Hidden Avignon: Beyond the Postcard

Most visitors to Avignon only scratch the surface. They snap photos on the Pont d’Avignon, wander through the imposing Palais des Papes, and linger in the two main squares—Place de l’Horloge and Place du Palais. They dine at busy cafés, shop for Provençal linens or lavender sachets, and leave believing they’ve seen all there is to see.

But the real Avignon lives at the fringes of the walled city, just outside the postcard views. That’s where you’ll find its pulse—quirky, artistic, and delightfully local. One such area is the Rue des Teinturiers—the old dyers’ quarter—a bohemian stretch of cobbled street where the Sorgue River trickles by and ancient water wheels still turn, creaking quietly as they have for centuries. Here, under the shade of plane trees, you'll find cafés and bistros with mismatched chairs and chalkboard menus, frequented more by locals and university students than camera-toting tourists. Street musicians are common, and it’s not unusual to hear impromptu poetry readings or see dancers practicing in the open air.

This neighborhood also hides several small theaters, some dedicated to experimental dance, others to intimate one-man plays or avant-garde puppetry. Among them, the Théâtre des Doms, tucked beside the Rocher des Doms, focuses on contemporary French-speaking productions from Belgium and is known for its bold programming and relaxed courtyard bar. Not far away, the Théâtre du Chêne Noir, set in a medieval chapel, stages everything from political monologues to reimagined classics in a moody, atmospheric space. These venues are at their most electric during Festival d’Avignon in July, when theatergoers descend on the city en masse. But even outside the festival, there’s an undercurrent of creativity that keeps these small spaces buzzing year-round.

It was in this part of town that we stumbled, quite by accident, into a nondescript corner bar one Saturday night. We had only intended to stop for a glass of rosé, but the crowd’s energy was impossible to ignore. Turns out, we had walked into the final round of Ms. Avignon 2025, a spirited drag contest with as much glitter and humor as heart. The bar was full of regulars, not tourists, and no one blinked at our presence. Avignon has long been quietly LGBTQ-friendly, and pockets of the city host gay bars, cafés, and events in a refreshingly unselfconscious way.

When it comes to museums, many tourists expect the Palais des Papes to be the highlight. And while the scale and architecture of this Gothic fortress are undeniably impressive, the interior can be disappointing. Most of the original furniture, tapestries, and treasures were carted off to Rome after the Great Schism ended and the papacy returned there in 1377. What remains is largely bare stone, with minimal ornamentation—making it more a monument of political history than a lived-in palace.

Fortunately, Avignon boasts a collection of smaller museums that are far more rewarding—and comfortably air-conditioned, a lifesaver during the sweltering Provençal summer. The Musée Calvet, housed in an elegant 18th-century mansion, features an eclectic array of paintings, decorative arts, and sculpture. But the real secret is its hidden courtyard, a peaceful retreat with a burbling fountain and leafy trees—an ideal place to catch your breath away from the crowds.

Another favorite is the Musée Angladon, a private home-turned-museum showcasing the art collection of Jacques Doucet, a pioneering fashion designer and visionary collector. Though his most iconic acquisitions—Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon and Van Gogh’s Irises—are now held in major museums abroad, the remaining pieces by Degas, Modigliani, Cézanne, and others still provide a rich, intimate experience of a discerning aesthetic.

Avignon is also full of quirks and quiet curiosities. As you wander the streets, be sure to look up—you’ll spot small statues of the Virgin Mary perched just above the first floor of buildings. These date back centuries and were placed there to ward off evil, including the plague. In contrast, you’ll find that many of the city’s churches are eerily austere—stripped of their religious figures and decorative iconography, remnants of the French Revolution and the secularizing zeal that came with it. The tension between these private devotions and public erasures tells a quiet story of faith, fear, and politics.

And then there’s the cultural contrast that every observant traveler will eventually notice: while tourists devour ice cream and snacks on the go, you’ll rarely see a French person eating on the street. Food in France is sacred. Whether sipping an espresso or eating a sandwich, the French always sit, always use utensils, and never rush. Even pizza is eaten with a knife and fork. It’s not snobbery—it’s ritual. And in Avignon, even the smallest rituals feel woven into the fabric of life.

Finally, as you plan your days in Avignon, it’s essential to remember that most shops and museums close between 12:00 and 2:00 p.m., and many are also closed on Sundays and Mondays—unless they’re located right in the heart of the tourist district. Rather than fight it, embrace the rhythm of local life and use that time for a leisurely lunch, just as residents do. If they’re lucky enough to live within the city walls, many locals still go home for the midday meal. It’s a gentle reminder that in Avignon, time is not something to race against—but something to savor.