Hanging on – the amazing hanging bridge near Bilbao

29 06 2016

I love bridges, especially ones on which supporting truss or cable stays structures add to their overall aesthetics.

One rather interesting looking bridge the sight of which I was particularly taken with, is the Puente Vizcaya (Bizkaia in Basque) or the Vizcaya Bridge. I managed a visit to it during a sojourn in the north of Spain in 2013. Straddling the Río Ibaizábal, close to where it spills into the Bay of Biscay, the bridge with its horizontal span elevated some 45 metres above the ground and supported by four lattice ironwork towers, is quite an amazing sight to behold.

The suspended gondola of the Vizcaya Bridge with Portugalete seen in the background.

The suspended gondola of the Vizcaya Bridge with Portugalete seen in the background.

The bridge, a so-called transporter bridge, is not what one might think of as bridge in the conventional sense. Rather than a roadway or walkway across which vehicular of pedestrian traffic is carried, a transporter bridge carries its load on a gondola that is suspended by wire-ropes from a moving trolley running across its horizontal span and is more akin to a ferry.

The Vizcaya Bridge.

The Vizcaya Bridge.

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The bridge in its early days (Gizmodo Australia).

A close-up of the gondola.

A close-up of the gondola.

Developed as a solution to allow the crossing of navigable waterways in areas where space and geography restrict the deployment of the long ramps that  would be necessary to carry vehicular traffic to the deck of bridges elevated high enough to clear shipping, the do have limitations in the volume and rate at which traffic can be moved across the gap and as a result have not seen widespread use. Less than thirty were built worldwide, mostly around the turn of the twentieth century.

The gondola is suspended using wire-ropes from a trolley running across its span.

The gondola is suspended using wire-ropes from a trolley running across its span.

The idea for the transporter bridge has been attributed to Charles Smith, an Englishman from Hartlepool. While his invention was made public in 1873, it wasn’t until two decades later in 1893 that the first such bridge, which was the Vizcaya, was completed. Designed by Basque architect Alberto de Palacio, a disciple of Gustave Eiffel (of the Eiffel tower fame), it sparked off a small wave of construction of several other transporter bridges.

A view of the trolley from the top of the bridge.

A view of the trolley from the top of the bridge.

Known also as “puente colgante” or “hanging bridge”, the Vizcaya Bridge as a structure, takes us back to the heyday of the industrial and maritime age in Bilbao and a time when the area’s deposits of iron-ore fed the hungry blast furnaces of Europe. This, as well as several other factors that include its dramatic presence and aesthetics,  the technical creativity it expresses, and its role in influencing the development of similar structures, has seen its inscription on the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Inscribed in 2006,  the Vizcaya Bridge now holds the distinction of being the only World Heritage site in the Basque Country.

A view of the moth of the Ibaizába estuary from the bridge.

A view of the moth of the Ibaizába estuary from the bridge.

The bridge is well worth a visit if you do find yourself in and around Bilbao, a city best known in these parts for its football team and the rather iconic Guggenheim Museum Bilbao. Besides the unique experience that crossing on its gondola offers, the bridge also features a walkway across its horizontal span, which provides not just a view of its trolley and operating mechanism but also a fantastic view of the towns of Getxo and Portugalete as well as the landscape around the mouth of the Ibaizábal estuary. More information on the bridge, access to its walkway and its UNESCO World Heritage listing can be found at the following links:

Portugalete fron the bridge.

Portugalete fron the bridge.

The gondola, seen from the walkway.

The gondola, seen from the walkway.

The walkway.

The walkway.

Getxo as seen from the bridge's walkway.

Getxo as seen from the bridge’s walkway.

The Ibaizába River.

The Ibaizába Rive, a passage for shipping destined for the old docks of Bilbao.

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The Vizcaya Bridge seen through the buildings of Portugalete.

The Vizcaya Bridge seen through the buildings of Portugalete.

 





The river I once knew

7 07 2011

I first set eyes on the Singapore River in my very early years when I accompanied my mother on her regular forays to the department stores in Raffles Place. To get to them, we would cross the river on the wonderfully designed Cavenagh Bridge. The open balustrades of the bridge offered an excellent view of the comings and goings on the busy river. It was fascinating to the curious child that I was, to watch the heavily laden wooden twakows (cargo boats) straining upriver with the cargoes that their much larger, steel-hulled cousins in the inner harbour had fed them. Even more fascinating to me was the spirited movement downriver of the boats whose bellies had been emptied by the industrious coolies at the many godowns (warehouses) lining the river.

Cavenagh Bridge.

Watching the coolies at work fascinated me more than seeing the passing of the twakows. I would stop and stare at the men as they took small but quick steps across the narrow planks that linked the boats to the stepped, concrete banks of the river. The planks would strain under the weight – not so much that of the bare-bodied men themselves, but of the load that each balanced on one shoulder. The loads seemed not just to outweigh the men who bore them, but to also be larger than the coolies’ lightly built frames. At times it looked as if the planks were too narrow, but I never once saw those men lose the ability to balance themselves and the offset loads that they carried.

A scan from an old postcard showing the river in busier days, filled with the twakows that transported goods from their steel hulled cousins upriver to the numerous godowns that lined the river.

In those days, besides the colourful distractions that the twakows, godowns and coolies provided, the waterway had a reputation for its less than pleasant smell. In fact, many visitors who arrived prior to the late 1980s remember Singapore for the river’s smells. It was an odour that I well remember myself and was reason enough for my mother to avoid stopping by the very popular Boat Quay food stalls. These had fitted themselves onto the narrow strip of land between the back of the buildings that lined the river (one was the Bank of China Building) and the river itself.

The (old) bank of China Building set against the new building has been one of the few survivors of the area around the river since I first became acquainted with the area in the late 1960s.

Much of what went on in and around the river had indeed contributed to how it smelled, as well as to the murky waters that the twakows ploughed through. A massive effort to clean up the river began in 1977 and meant that life in and around the river as it was, would soon be a thing of the past. The twakows, a feature of the river for over a hundred years, disappeared in the early 1980s, an event that I somehow missed. By the time I got around to visiting the river again, they had vanished from the waters that had once held hundreds of them. Soon, the river was to be cut off from the sea that had given it life, with reclamation work at Marina South and the construction of the Marina Barrage. The river did not go quietly, however, and is now entering its second life, integrated into a potential source of fresh water for the modern metropolis that has grown around it.

A massive effort to clean up the river began in 1977 and the twakows, a feature of the river for over a hundred years, disappeared in the early 1980s, Many of the godowns along Boat Quay (seen here dwarfed by the steel and glass of new Singapore) have since been transformed into food and entertainment outlets.

Nevertheless, the river will always evoke its colourful past for me. I still look at it through the eyes of the child, and what I see are images of the twakows, coolies and godowns that are today all but forgotten.


This post has been published in the July / August 2011 issue of Passage, a Friends of the Museums, Singapore publication as “Singapore River Reminisces, Boat Quay in the 1970s”.






Architectural masterpieces of KL: The Railway Station

13 01 2011

Of the four grand pieces of Moorish influenced architecture that the Malaysian capital Kuala Lumpur is blessed with, the old Railway Station is the one with which I have had the most interaction with, with it having been the destination and starting point of the many train journeys I made on the Malayan Railway. It was a place that brings many memories back of these journeys, and particularly of the first I had taken from the station on the return leg of that first journey I had made from Tanjong Pagar which I remembered for the wrong reasons.

The Moorish styled Railway Station in Kuala Lumpur is one of a quartet of buildings that Kuala Lumpur has long been associated with.

The station, another one of Arthur Benison Hubback’s magnificent works of architecture, complements another, the Railway Administration Building, just across what is now Jalan Sultan Hishamuddin (Victory Avenue prior to independence), which I introduced in an earlier post, with its whitewashed façade spotting the distinctive arches and domes that give the building a grandeur fitting of an old world railway terminal. Together with the Railway Administration Building and Masjid Jamek (both of which were set in motion on the Hubback’s drawing board), as well as the grandest of them, the Sultan Abdul Samad Building, the Railway station makes a quartet of Moorish influenced buildings that for a long time was what the city that grew out of a muddy confluence of rivers, had been identified with. These days, unfortunately, Kuala Lumpur seems to be identified with the monstrous pieces of modern architecture that rob these four buildings of the attention that they deserve.

From one of Hubback's masterpieces looking across Jalan Sultan Hishamuddin to another. A view of the Railway Station from the Railway Administration Building.

The Railway Station in Kuala Lumpur was built during the period when a certain Mr. Charles Edwin Spooner (after whom Spooner Road in Singapore and Ipoh is named after), oversaw the expansion of the Malayan Railway, known as, with the formation of the Federated Malay States (FMS) in 1896, the Federated Malay States Railway (FMSR), which included the link through the state of Johore which connected Kuala Lumpur with Singapore (although then the absence of a Causeway meant the crossing to Singapore was carried out by boat), in his capacity as the General Manager of the FMSR. Mr. Spooner was certainly influential as the Chief Engineer of the Selangor PWD, his prior appointment before taking up the position in the FMSR, having had his say in the design of the Sultan Abdul Samad Building in Kuala Lumpur, and skewing it towards a Moorish styled design, befitting of Kuala Lumpur’s position as the capital of a protectorate, the FMS, rather than a colony. He would have certainly had an influence in the building of the station as well, but unfortunately, he passed away in 1909 before the completion of the grand old building in 1910.

The Station Building (on the right) as well as the Railway Administration Building (on the left) across Jalan Sultan Hishamuddin were built during the turn of the 20th Century and were designed by A. B. Hubback.

Besides that first ever journey that I made in the less than comfortable wagons of the Mail Train, I have had many more encounters with the station. It was in the early part of the 1990s that I made frequent trips by train, often catching the overnight sleeper, the Senandung Malam, from Singapore’s Tanjong Pagar Railway Station, on which I would be able to catch a reasonable enough rest, often waking up a the sight of strange bedmates in the form of the resident cockroaches. The approach to the station from Salak Selatan station was always something that I looked forward to with anitcipation as the train took a slow course past the Lever Brothers Building in Bangsar, and past the Brickfields area before the grey truss Sultan Sulaiman Bridge over which Jalan Sultan Sulaiman runs came into sight. The bridge would be the last sight before the station came into sight, with its distinctive domes atop minaret like structures which complemented the many arches that gives the building its Islamic flavour.

The Sultan Sulaiman Bridge provides is the last sight before the passenger catches the grand sight of the station on the north bound train.

The northbound approach to the station.

Stepping out onto the platform was always nice after the long journey where I would usually be greeted. Back then, non-passengers could get on the platform to send-off or receive passengers by buying a platform ticket for a small cost, and I was pleasantly surprised to find on my recent visit to the station that the ticket dispensers were still where they were. More often than not I would end up catching a ride from the side across from where the front of the station building was where the main public carpark was at. It was there as well that I could catch a taxi, buying a prepaid coupon from the taxi counter, wherever I did not have a ride. The occasions on which I had seen the front of the station was when I caught a lift in, either to catch the return train or to purchase tickets (I would buy my return tickets in Kuala Lumpur to avoid paying for tickets which were priced at the same amount in Singapore Dollars as they would in Malaysian Ringgit if I had bought them in Singapore). Trips to the station to purchase tickets did on many occasions end in frustration as I would very often be greeted by a sign at the ticket counter which read “Maaf, Komputer Rosak“, which meant “Sorry, Computer Breakdown (or Failure)” in Malay, which meant I would need to make another trip down to the station. It was on those occasions that I got to explore a little, walking around the driveway where security guards would be busy trying to get traffic moving as there would be many cars and taxis stopped there, from which I could get a peek at the equally magnificent Railway Administration Building across Jalan Sultan Hishamuddin.

Stepping out onto the platform was always nice after the long overnight journey.

The public could gain access to the platforms in the old days by buying a platform ticket from one of these dispensers.

Trips to the station to purchase tickets were very often frustrating affairs as I was often greeted by the sign "Maaf, Komputer Rosak" at the counter.

A disused Train Departures board at the rear side of the station building.

The rear of the station building where the large public car park is.

What used to be the taxi booking counter where coupons could be purchased for taxis taken from the station.

The driveway at the front of the station.

This time around, my visit was very much prompted by the nostalgia I have for the many journeys I had taken out of Tanjong Pagar, as well as to visit the Railway Administration Building across the road. I had also thought of seeking out the Station Hotel, which wasn’t operational during my previous visits to the station. I had heard about the revival of a so-called Heritage Station Hotel at the station only to be frustrated by the chains and padlocks that greeted me as I walked towards the entrance. The Railway Station was one of three that had a Station Hotel, the others being the other Hubback designed station in Ipoh, and the southern terminal of the FMSR at Tanjong Pagar. The one at Tanjong Pagar had long ceased operations, leaving possibly the one in Ipoh to be the last of the Station Hotels. The hotel had initially opened with six rooms in August 1911 before ten more rooms were added, and in a report in 1915, the hotel was said to “compare favourably with any (hotel) in the country”.

A sign showing that a "Hotel Heritage" had operated at the station. The station was one of three that had a Station Hotel operating in the building, the others were the stations at Ipoh and Tanjong Pagar.

The quest to visit the Station Hotel ended in disappointment as the chain and padlock greeted me instead of opened doors.

A peek through a window and through another window of the lobby of the former Station Hotel.

The station now serves as a commuter train station, with the brand new KL Sentral taking over in 2001 as the main train station in Kuala Lumpur. Housed within the station in what was the main hall is a Railway Museum which opened in 2007. This was a little disappointing on the whole, but does provide displays of memorabilia associated with the history of the railway, including old station clocks, weighing scales and even the bone of an elephant that had been hit by a train trying to protect its herd.

The station is now used as a Commuter Train station ...

... as well as a museum. Some of the exhibits include old signs, weighing scales and old station clocks along with other memorabilia.

Another exhibit from one of the predecessors to the FMSR ...

There was even a bone of an elephant who died defending his herd from an oncoming train.

More views in and around the station.

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The Bridge over the River Kwai

22 12 2010

It might have been because of the nursery rhyme “London Bridge is Falling Down”, that I have held a long fascination with bridges, having many doses of it throughout my early childhood. It was a fascination that was also fed by my regular encounters with the two railway bridges from my childhood journeys through the Bukit Timah area, and of those with the magnificent Anderson and Cavenagh Bridges that sets our Civic District apart from much of the rest of Singapore, and maybe by the picture of the red oxide coated Forth Rail Bridge on the back of a postcard that my mother had for much of my childhood displayed on her dresser. There were of course bridges of significance that I encountered in my diet of war inspired movies and novels that might also have fed that fascination: one being “A Bridge Too Far” over Arnhem that was the subject of Cornelius Ryan’s novel which was adapted by William Goldman for the movie of the same name; and the so-called “Bridge on the River Kwai”, part of the infamous Death Railway, that was made famous by the 1957 David Lean movie based on a novel entitled “Bridge Over the River Kwai” by French writer Pierre Boulle, which I had watched many times on TV.

Poster for the movie "Bridge on the River Kwai".

The bridge over the River Kwai in Dec 1984.

The bridge in 2006.

That I guess was what compelled me to visit the bridge that stands over the River Kwai today, or the River Mae Khlung as it should rightly have been (the river has since been renamed as the “Kwai Yai” for the tourists). The bridge that stands today isn’t the wooden bridge built in 1943 that was the subject of the movie, but a second more sturdy bridge of concrete and steel built by the Prisoners of War (POW) also in 1943. It stands as a powerful symbol of the pain, suffering and death that was inflicted on the POWs who were put to work on the infamous Siam to Burma rail supply line that the Japanese intended to use on their push towards India. Estimates vary but at least 100,000 POWs and labourers died in the construction of the railway due to the harsh conditions, starvation and malaria.

A view of the bridge from the far bank. The two straight-sided spans were transported from Japan after the end of the war as part of Japanese war reparations, to replace the two original arched spans which were brought over from Java by the Japanese which were destroyed.

Another view of the bridge.

Information plate on one of the replacement spans.

One of the original arched spans which the Japanese brought over from Java.

My first visit to the bridge which is about 5 kilometres out of Kanchanaburi , which is located 130 kilometres west of Bangkok was in December 1984 – back then I was struck by the surreal calm that taking a walk on the bridge provided despite the presence of the tourists (not the hordes that one encounters these days) and the vendors trying to hawk a few souvenirs. I did return some twenty years later – dismayed to find that the bridge had been overrun by hordes of tourists and the area now dominated by the tourist shops that have somehow destroyed the peace that I had first encountered in 1984. Still, taking a walk on the bridge provides a wonderful experience, and certainly once across the bridge, the far back does provide that sense of calm absent on the near side.

Taking a photograph of the bridge in 1984.

On the bridge in 2006.

Around the bridge, there is the River Kwae Bridge railway station which is certainly worth a visit. The station in fact provides an gateway for rail passengers coming from the south who can make a connection at Nakhon Pathom, and also directly from Bangkok. The line itself runs over part of the original Death Railway route to Nam Tok. The line which was assessed to be too poorly constructed to support commercial use was sold by the British in 1946 to Siam for a sum of ₤1.5M which included 65 locomotives, 1125 wagons and other stock, and revived in 1948. The train also runs through and stops at the town of Kanchanaburi.

Ticket counter at the River Kwai Bridge Station.

River Kwai Bridge Station.

An old steam locomotive (#719) on display at River Kwai Bridge Station.

Beyond the area where the bridge is, it makes sense to also pay a visit to one of the war museums to have a sense of what went on, as well as the Kanchanaburi War Cemetery. The museum I visited was the JEATH (Japan, England, Australia Thailand, England) War Museum, which is housed inside the grounds of the Wat Chai Chumphon temple and is built around huts meant to replicate those that the POWs had been housed in and contains graphic images showing the conditions the prisoners had lived in.

Kanchanaburi War Cemetery in 1984.

Kanchanaburi War Cemetery.

Plaque at the entrance of the War Cemetery.

Plaque at the War Cemetery.

The JEATH War Museum.

Exhibit at the JEATH War Museum in 1984 with photographs of the bridge destroyed in 1945 by allied bombings.





The Gemencheh Bridge

6 12 2010

One of the main attractions around the railway junction of Gemas would be the site of the Gemencheh River Bridge, a wooden bridge that was blown up by Australian Forces as they desperately attempted to stem the tide of the Japanese invasion through Malaya in the final days of the Battle of Malaya. Those were dark days as the relentless Japanese advance arrived close to Singapore’s doorstep. Gemas was perhaps where any final resistance could be offered being the entry point into what must have been the psychological final buffer to Singapore, after which only the state of Johore stood in the way. It would probably not have come as a surprise that it was at Gemas where an ambush was planned, one that could and perhaps might have had influenced a very different outcome if events had worked in the favour of the defending forces. That it did not, brought the Japanese invasion forces closer to their goal both physically and psychologically, and within two weeks of the battle, the Japanese had arrived at Singapore’s doorstep at Johor Baharu.

The Gemencheh River, near Gemas, was the site of an ambush in January 1942 that saw a heavy loss of life amongst the Japanese troops.

The ambush was mounted at 4 pm on 14 January 1942, launched by “B” Company of the 2/30th Battalion. Ignoring the advance party of Japanese scouts on bicycle, the Australian unit blew the bridge up as the main party crossed resulting in a heavy loss of life by the Japanese. Estimates range from 600 to 1000 fatalities on the Japanese side and a handful suffered by the Australians. While the initial ambush was a huge success, reports suggest that fighting continued south of the bridge for two days, in part due to a lack of artillery support due to communication lines being cut by the Japanese advance party, with the Australian forces withdrawing south through Gemas.

Possibly the bridge that was rebuilt by the Japanese as seen in 1945 - Caption on Photograph at the Austrlian War Memorial (http://awm.gov.au) site: Gemencheh, Negri Sembilan, Malaya. 1945-09-25. The bridge (middle distance) over the Gemencheh River where, on the 1942-01-14 members of the 2/30th Australian Infantry Battalion supported by No. 30 battery, 2/15th Australian Field Regiment and the 4th Australian Anti-Tank Regiment ambushed and killed some 600 Japanese soldiers (57 mile peg.) (source: Austrlian War Memorial http://awm.gov.au).

Today, a memorial can be found at the site of the ambush. Referred to as the Tugu Sungai Kelamah or Kelamah River Memorial, the memorial appears to be named after a tributary of the Gemencheh River. The site of the memorial is on the southern bank of the part of the river where the Gemencheh River Bridge had stood (coordinates 2° 35′ 43.66″ N, 102° 31′ 8.22″ E), with wooden stumps – remnants of the bridge’s columns still very much in evidence in the river itself. The site lies some 11 kilometres north-west-west from the Gemas Railway Station and within sight of a road bridge to the east along Federal Route 1 – probably the one built to replace the destroyed bridge, and can be reached by taxi from Gemas (about a 15 minute ride).

The remnants of the original wooden bridge that was blown up by the Australian Forces - wooden stumps of the supporting columns, is very much in evidence at the site.

The new bridge just east of the site - part of Federal Route 1.

Sign at the entrance of the Sungai Kelamah Memorial along Federal Route 1.

Sign at the Memorial Site - unfortunately the date is wrong and the ambush occurred on 14 January 1942 rather than in 1941 as the sign suggests.

The same sign in Bahasa Melayu.

At the site, there is a Memorial that has been erected to remember the Australian troops that fought in the battle – this fortunately has the correct dates on it as indicated on a tablet at the foot of the memorial. Pausing to take in what was around us, surrounded by the air of silence that permeated the air, it is hard to imagine the ferocious battle that was fought close to sixty years ago … it possibly makes us think of the futility of war and the unnecessary pain and suffering it inflicts. I am certainly most grateful to those who fought for our freedom in battle, some losing their limbs, some a lot more psychologically and the many that paid the ultimate sacrifice – with their lives.

A memorial probably erected by the Australians with a tablet at the bottom indicating the correct dates of the ambush and subsequent battle.

The tablet at the bottom of the Memorial.

Another view of the new bridge.

Resources on the ambush at the Gemencheh River Bridge / Battle of Malaya:

Sungei Gemencheh Ambush, Gemas Area – Malaya, 14 January 1942,`B’ COY 2/30 BN AIF, Report by Captain D.J. Duffy OC `B’ Coy (Later Lt. Col. D.J. Duffy MC, ED)

On ABC: Sequence of events in the Japanese campaign leading to the fall of Singapore

Wikipedia stub on the Gemencheh Bridge during the Battle of Malaya

Australian War Memorial WWII Site (Australian Government Site)





Sur le pont d’Avignon: Exiled Popes and a broken bridge

28 12 2009

The popular children’s song Sur le pont d’Avignon comes to mind each time one thinks of Avignon. The lyrics of the song describes people dancing on the bridge in a circle … conjuring up images of jovial folk dressed in their medieval finery dancing in celebration on what must have been a magnificent Pont Saint-Bénezet, stradled over the Rhône.

Sur le pont d'Avignon: On the Bridge of Avignon

The Chorus of Sur le pont d’Avignon,

Sur le pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse, l’on y danse
Sur le pont d’Avignon
L’on y danse tous en rond

translates into:

On the bridge of Avignon
We all dance there, we all dance there
On the bridge of Avignon
We all dance there in a ring

Le Pont d'Avignon: Pont Saint-Bénezet (The Saint-Bénezet Bridge)

What is left of the bridge these days, are four remaning arches, where there had been twenty-two arches supporting the length of the beautifully constructed bridge. A large part of what had been a 900 metre long bridge was swept away by a flood in the late 17th century. A first glimpse of the bridge on the approach from the cool shadows of the tree lined ramparts of the city walls, against the drone of the gentle chorus of cicadas, who one might suggest, were attempting to mimic the tune of the children’s song, provides a foretaste of the impressive divine inspired work. The solid looking bridge, inspired by the vision of a shepherd boy, Bénezet, after whom it is named, who, in a vision, was commanded by angels to build a bridge across the river, was constructed in the late 12th century. For sometime the bridge served strategically as the only built river crossing between Lyon and the Mediterranean. Standing on what is left of the bridge, one feels a sense of awe and can’t help but marvel at what is truly an impressive feat of medieval engineering.

Sur le pont d'Avignon: The Palace of the Popes as seen from the Saint-Bénezet Bridge

The bridge offers a wonderful perspective of the walled city of Avignon and the Palais des Papes (Palace of the Popes) where the day had actually begun. The Palace of the Popes, built in the 14th century, served as the seat of the Papacy during a tumultuous period of time when the Papacy took leave of absence from its seat in Rome – the only period of time since the establishment of the Papacy when it had been based outside of Rome. The Palace with its 15000 square metres of floor area is an impressive piece of medieval architecture and is in fact the largest Gothic palace in Europe. It was built from 1335 to 1364, after a French dominated Papacy had moved from the strife and hostility it faced in Rome in 1309, serving as the seat of the Catholic Church until 1377, when the Papacy moved back to Rome. It continued serving as the seat of two rebel popes installed by factions opposed to Rome during the Papal Schism that followed the departure of the Papacy, until 1403.

Palais des Papes - The Palace of the Popes

View from the Ramparts of the Palace of the Popes

Roof at the Palace of the Popes

The Palace of the Popes

Cathédrale Notre Dame-des-Doms and the Palace of the Popes

Across from the Palace of the Popes, stands the delightful Petit Palais, which houses the Musée du Petit Palais and its collection of mainly Italian and French primitive and early renaissance art, including Bottlcelli’s The Virgin and Child. On display is what perhaps a glimpse of the art from a period of time during which the awakening of art and culture had started, from a time when art, architecture and much of life, was dedicated to the glory of God.

Botticelli's The Virgin and Child (1465)

Giovanni Baronzio's Madonna and Child (c. 1343)

Outside the palaces, the streets, that had on the walk into the walled city that morning, been filled with the dissonance of a student protest, one that maybe one expects to come across on the cobble stones of a city as French as the dissension of its citizens is, seemed quiet in the heat of the Provencal summer afternoon. Wandering around somehow seemed a lot less interesting after the morning’s journey into the city’s colourful past.

The quiet streets of Avignon

A Medieval Tower in the centre of Avignon