To my very good fortune, I must add two new friends: Gilles and Amaury, who own and operate a lovely and growing guest house in Avignon. When you are traveling to Avignon, you absolutely must stay there. They are located on the Imapsse Jean-Pierre, a small dead end street, just blocks from the Palace of the Popes. The suites are lovely, comfortable, and luxurious, every detail is beautifully designed, and as functional as they are stunning. Okay, enough about the lodgings themselves, it is the people that make it special. Amaury and Gilles invited me for dinner last night, before I left for Chateauneuf de Pape. We ate in their kitchen, a simple meal of cheeses, salad, and home made breads (yes, three separate loaves & all delicious).

Everything was delicious, but was particularly great was their company. I am best in the company of good people...my own strength and sense of self is often a reflection of my friends and family, who love me, listen to me, and break bread with me. That is what this trip is all about, so meeting these guys was a real treat.

Along with Thomas, they are running their guest house with the idea that they will welcome people into heir home to enjoy all that the South of France offers. They speak a little English and I a little French, so we managed with a Franglais, and their was not shortage of conversation!

We had such a good time that they took me to the antiques market this morning in Villeneuve. This is a must stop for any tour of Provence. The town itself is just dripping with charm, just stunning, and the Saturday morning market is full of great, interesting stuff...but for me the real find was my first French Croissant...

it was worth waiting for...the owner explained, "you cannot get this in the US," and I agreed. Thankfully, we cannot. I adore Pain D'Avignon, but I must have a reason to visit France;)

friends, wine, and croissant!

Friday, lunch at La Tartinerie okay, I will put it plainly, I did not write a post last night because I enjoyed wine at dinner at Chez Ripert in the long overdue company of friends, Chef Julien and his wife Marion, Jean-claude from La Manarine...it was so fun that I may have consumed a bit too much wine and found myself with a touch of "the flu" this morning. That said it was crucial that I find a delicious remedy for this cold...I walked for nearly three hours. Seriously,I have a problem! Okay, a bit of poking in the shops may have slowed the process, and getting turned away from some places that close midday, and wandering because my hangover made it difficult to make any kind of decision or have any discussion in English, never mind French.

I recall at one moment thinking that I would never find the right place, I would soon collapse in the corner by one of the many churches in Avignon, never to be seen again. I began to try to compile a list of the first people who might notice I was missing...yes, good thing I found the right place when I did. A tagedy narrowly averted. (If this should happen, I would like Juliette Binoche to play me, ok?)

After nearly giving up, I walked into a small square, Place de la Principale, and I found La Tartinerie de la Chappelle. I said, quietly, but with confidence, "bonjour, peut- je prendre le dejeuner?" He answered, positively, and I sat down in the shade. (insert heavy sigh here-Bre, you know whatI am talking about!)

The menu is very simple, tartine, which is thick cut toast with a variety of wonderful spreads to choose from, served with a green salad, or galletine, again filled with your choice of delicious items and served with a salad...but the thing about the galletine is it is served with cider. It was a hot day today, though the Mistral winds cooled things off a bit, but made it much drier...yes, sun, heat, warm dry breeze, and a hang over...get me that glass of cold cider, s'il vous plait! And, stat!

I had one of those uncomfortable moments when traveling in a foriegn land, of which I have had several in the last four days, when the waiter delivered the cider. It is a small but recognizable bottle, familiar enough, but he places next to it a small ceramic bowl. Attractive enough, but am I seriously supposed to drink the cider out of it? I say merci, and look around with hopes that someone else has ordered this, to no avail. I wonder, should I ask? Mais non! I then consdier whether they are looking out of the quaint shop waiting for the stupid american to drink out of a soup bowl, but my thirst overpowers my concern for public humilation, as I am concerned that I may collapse and be dragged off by some undesirable (oh, I did not mention that part of the narrative? which is naturally followed by the "I told her so" narrative and the self-loathing. Okay, right, back to the main story), so I poured and drank from the lovin' cup and all was right, again. The cider is dry, light and refreshing with just a tiny touch of sweetness.

With the galletine, it is perfect.

I went for the obvious choise for my filled crepe, a soft egg, ham, and cheese, and it could not have been a more perfect remedy for what ailed me. One bit and a sip of my cold cider, and I was revived and ready to journey on. It could not have helped that I took so damn long to find the very perfect spot, but it was worth the wait.