I like to kid myself that in visiting France and spending lots of time in museums I’m improving my French.
So today I learnt that “bonnets d’affranchises” are what is known in English as the “cap of liberty”, given to freed Roman slaves as a symbol of their new status, and more widely used as a symbol of liberty.
OK, so it might not come up while buying a train ticket, but you never know when it might come in handy…
Okay, you might say this is a bit of a specialist subject, and you might be right, but who could resist this hare?
Unfortunately there’s only one room with the original 14th-century tiles surviving in situ, and you’re not allowed into that!, but there is a nice collection of original ones from around the palace in the consistory hall. As a visitor you’re directed to the surviving frescos, and there’s no doubt they are very fine, particularly those attributed to Matteo Giovanetti in Saint John’s chapel off the consistory.
But somehow, I find more moving, more evocative, these products of certainly humble workmen, working fast, but showing real artistic skill. And the colours are marvelous – a real sign of the art of the workman who blended them without the aid of modern chemistry.
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I started out my tour of Avignon at the logical chronological point, the archaeological annexe of the Musee Calvet, the grand collection officially founded in 1811 but owing quite a bit to an early 18th-century “cabinetâ€.
It is housed in a surprisingly attractive baroque church (no, I’m not generally a fan of the Baroque, but here at least the decoration overload is contained to a great cornice and the nave and chapels are attractively plain, a good setting for the collection). It did well to survive being a WWI storeroom, and then its use for a beekeeping trade fair (which must have been about the 20s. (It was dedicated for museum use in 1933.)
There’s a small ancient Egyptian collection, of no particular local relevance, but it then moves into Greek vases and Etruscan funerary sculptures reflecting early influences here, before moving into the Roman world.
What’s striking about that last collection is how you have to read the labels to tell the origins of the piece – they might be from Rome itself, from the Balkans, from the east, but generally you can’t tell which – a reminder of how monocultural the Roman world was, in many respects. This is an unknown woman from the 3rd century AD, of Avignon – but really she could be of anywhere.
1. Food, glorious food
Stopping between trains at the Gare de Lyon, I nip out of the station to the nearest Chinese restaurant and have a delightful scallops fried with baby corn, spring onions and lemon grass – suddenly the whole point of Cantonese cuisine – usually in Anglo countries a stodgy, sweet mess – becomes clear.
Then on to Avignon, my “home†for the next week – I’m calling this my “Christmas holidayâ€, since I didn’t get one then, and I figured it might be good to get here before the tourist hordes in spring. Dinner on the Grand Square – a vegetable soup served with grated cheese that melts beautifully in it, a ham steak covered with a parsley and honey glaze, perfect pomme frites, and a yoghurt with delightfully tart fruit compote. Nothing flash, but all perfectly thought out and prepared (even if the waiter was surly since I insisted on eating outside, making him walk a bit further – no tip for him then.)
2. Public architecture that works
The grand new TGV station at Avignon is all straight flat planes of glass and concrete – built underneath the raised tracks but surprisingly airy and light. Do this in Britain and by now this would be a smelly, dirty, graffitied home to the homeless and worrying local youths – here it is bustling but friendly, with half a dozen shops seemingly doing a roaring trade.
In days ahead, I’ll probably be adding to this list…
Having just done quite a long trip on GNER to Scotland, similar to one I did last year on Virgin, I have to say how much more pleasant this experience was. There was some ventilation on the train, not the recirculated airless feeling of the Virgin train, and pleasant staff, unlike the sullen, curt types on Virgin.
And at least on the Friday up a lovely dining car that, while not cheap, served non-plastic properly cooked food – a rather good steak, asparagus and broccoli nicely cooked and dished up silver-service style by staff who acted like they didn’t mind being there.
Only one hitch – a classically British one. After the asparagus came the waitress offering “mustard, English or French”. Sounds good. Then “one or two”. After all that fine service the offering was Heinz mustard in little plastic sachets … oh well, it is still Britain I suppose.
And unfortunately the dining car isn’t open on weekends. I was hoping for a nice leisurely dinner in the big seats tonight, but was turned away. Most disappointing…. Mr/Mrs GNER, please, seven-day dining!
And I found the on-train WiFi worked pretty well… ridiculously expensive (£5/hour), but convenient.
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