Outside
of Avignon sits one of UNESCO’s prestigious world heritage sites. Pont du Gard
is a Roman-era aqueduct built 2,000 years ago to bring water to the nearby city
of Nimes. We arrived in the calm of the early morning before the coming
thunderstorms. The river that is bridged by the aqueduct was still with no
current or ripples detectable. This allowed this magnificent structure to
reflect perfectly against the glass-like waters.
By
late morning, the storms arrived with full force and gusto. But not before we
were able to take more photos from various angles along and above the river.
During our visit, we were able to fully appreciate this masterful work of
ancient engineering. How it was done to perfection without the use of modern
day measuring devices and moving equipment has been left to the historians and
archaeologists to explain. It was, and is, a marvel to behold.
Back
in the Avignon, we walked through the city's protected walls from medieval days and toured the grounds outside of the Palace of the Popes, an
edifice built in the 1300’s that was the home of nine popes during a time when
there was a schism between the Catholics in Rome and Catholics in Avignon.
These nine popes served concurrently with those in Rome, becoming known the
anti-popes.
Our
tour of the inside of the Palace was limited to the interior courtyard where just
after dusk, a laser and light show of mystical and dream-like images,
accompanied by deep bass and powerful vibrating sounds, were cast upon the
walls of this centuries old building. It was quite a display.
The
following day was one were we didn’t do much at all, and loved every minute of
it. At the Les Halles indoor market, we found a vendor selling Beaufort cheese,
a delicacy we had over ten years ago when we were last in France and have been
unable to find since. Creamy, firm, a little tart and… simply delicious.
At a
street-side table outside of a café along a narrow lane, we sat to eat morsels
from our block of cheese while sipping coffee and drinking a beer, simply
content to people watch for hours on end. One couple, with two small boys,
reminded us how families are largely the same wherever you are in the world.
One of the boys was teasing the other which led to a fight requiring the
parents to step in, the mom scolding one of the two while the dad stood up and
stood in a way of the other to ensured they stayed separated from each other.
Later,
a photographer followed a model who stopped nearby to pose and primp for his
camera. Other like-minded people watchers took time away from their wine
glasses, leafy salads, and creamy desserts to watch with interest. Shop owners
went about their business. They’ve seen it all before I’m sure. When not busy
serving tables, they’d chat with each other to catch up on the local news and
gossip, sometimes alone with newspaper in hand when a brief moment between
customers would allow.
We
have found that our people watching enjoyment is heightened when, while
traveling overseas, we rely largely on the local public transportation that is
available. It is a cheap, reliable, and budget-friendly way to travel. It helps
stretch our vacation dollars significantly. As an added bonus, we can collect
stories and witness sides of society that you would not often see or experience
if seated anonymously inside a rental car or while hermetically sealed aboard a
tour bus with fifty septuagenarians.
I was
reminded of this when I recalled some of our experiences just the other day
while waiting for our connecting train on our trip down to Avignon from Paris.
Only at a train station could you experience the following all within a 90-minute
time span:
It was
a beautiful, sunny afternoon so we decided to sit at a picnic bench in a plaza
outside the station while enjoying our lunch.
“Hello,
do you speak English?” asked a well-dressed lady, maybe in her late 40s.
“Yes,
we do”, we both replied in unison. With that, she walked closer to us to give
us her tale of woe, clutching with one hand a large purse that was looped over
her shoulder while using her other hand to tug at a small roller suitcase. It
seems she was being targeted by the French government with a sound wave
experiment that was making her and her fellow employees in the U.S. diplomatic
corps sick and disoriented. She needed money so that she can go to a country
where she will be safe from these types of attacks.
“Can
you help me out with a few euros so that I can buy a train ticket?” she
pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. I must admit, of all of the panhandling
techniques, this one was pretty original and, at first, I was intrigued by her
story, halfway believing it since stories of similar sound wave occurrences
have been in the news lately. For some I’m sure, they would find her very
convincing. But, I soon came back to reality when it was clear that the details
of her story weren’t adding up. I mean, the French are our allies after all (at
least for now, they are).
MK and
I looked at each other before I turned back to the lady. “I’m afraid we can’t
help you,” I said dismissively.
“Thank
you for your time.” She was angry and walked away briskly. “I would have helped
you,” she said, turning her head to look back at us before confronting another
person across the way.
Now,
contrast this with a disheveled man who later approached us looking for money
as well. He began with his simple and short pitch in French, hanging on a leash
attached to his lowly dog which was wearing a black kerchief. I cut him off mid-sentence. “Je ne parle pas
Francais (I do not speak French).” Ok, so the irony is not lost on me –
speaking French to tell the man that I do not speak French. But, it was one of
the phrases I rehearsed before arriving in France and I was eager to use it.
“Can
you give me and my dog some money?” He had quickly changed to speaking English.
Ah, a straight-talking panhandler, I thought. He must think the direct pitch
without a long story attached is the best approach. He moved on quickly as I
waved him off.
I know
this may sound like I’m trying to impose some level of superiority over these
people. And I’m glad to help out people when I sense they are truly in need. But,
these two didn’t seem to qualify and I didn’t feel like getting caught in a web
of giving. I’ve learned long ago, that if you give to one, many others will
notice. Soon, you will be confronted non-stop by those who think you’re an easy
mark.
No
longer bothered, we returned to our lunch while watching the events going on
around us. A young lady was sitting at a nearby bench. Her face was tilted up
toward the sun, absorbed in her thoughts as she took in its warmth. A young man
sat nearby and began to strum his guitar with a rhythmic beat. Being close and
within hearing distance, the lady began to sway to the music, her eyes still
closed, her head still back, her face still turned to the sun. She soon stood
up and began to dance in front of the guitar player. His beat intensified as
her dancing became more animated. When we left later, we noticed they had
become fast friends, drinking beer, and having a good time with each other’s
company.
Meanwhile,
on a bench next to us was another lady (or, honestly, it could have been a
man). She wore a gold sequined mini dress. Her ankles and wrists were adorned
with dozens of bracelets and anklets. She was painting her fingernails with a
florescent green polish to match her eye shadow. When I noticed she had already
painted her toenails with the same color, I saw that her (his?) feet were
probably size elevens and had hair coming out from the tops of her (his?) toes.
The nails were curled out and downward, werewolf-like.
Just
then, a grandmotherly type, toting a shopping bag and wearing a long red and
wrinkled skirt along with a babushka hiding her grey hair, walked by. Seeing
the sequin lady, she exclaimed, “Ah, ooh-la-la!”
The
sequin lady smiled. I think that was just the type of attention she was looking
for.
Fascinating...
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