Road-Trip 2008: Day 4

Our morning was spent drinking coffee, settling our bill, and having a laugh with Emilie who was also staying on top of the pizzeria. We dropped into Wedding HQ briefly to say goodbye and hit the road — this time attempting to avoid the national roads by heading straight to the motorway and heading back into France towards Avignon.

We had planned on visiting Porta Ventura for some rollercoasters, and even considered going to Zaragoza to see the World's Fair. We decided against these ideas because it was right in the middle of a local holiday period and the weather was stinking hot.

So, we entered France.

Stopping off for a short break and some fuel, I was approached by a Spaniard claiming to have a residence in France, however his car had run out of petrol and he had run out of cash. To make things worse, his credit card was either expired or over the limit (it was unclear), and his insurance company wouldn't cover him for running out of fuel.

Oddly, he continued to point out his car, parked nearby, which had French number plates. I respectfully rejected his request for enough money for a full tank (probably about 60€), and he went off to find someone else. I noticed that while he was talking to someone closer to the petrol station, a woman came and drove off in the car he claimed was his. Ah-huh.

By late afternoon we had arrived in Avignon, known to some for its famous popes and anti-popes, but probably known to most for the Saint-Bénezet Bridge («Pont Saint-Bénezet») featured in the nursery rhyme Sur le point d'Avignon.

Today, though, popes and bridges be damned — we needed a hotel room.

After checking out a few places within the old city walls, we eventually settled on the budget option of the Etap Hotel, much to the chagrin of a revolting hotelier in his equally revolting discount hotel down-town who insisted that the Etap was a scam!

After checking into our sterile accommodations, we headed into the old town for some dinner. We settled on an Irish Pub, of which we soon discovered it was no where near what we expected.

Contrary to every other Irish Pub I know, nobody here spoke English, and summoning a smile was difficult. Despite this, the food was very good — albeit overpriced — yet the service was atrocious. I suppose the proud Fosters sign out the front should have been a warning, let alone the misspelling of the word “Irish” within their very own menu!

Tomorrow we plan on seeing the sights of the city and hitting the road…