Versailles

This morning Beth and I awakened to the sound of knocking on the door of the room across the hall. It was only 8:30; had the maid gone crazy?? As we gradually woke up we realized that the knocking sound was on our own door, and when Beth answered it, it was Charlotte. She woke up at 7:30, so excited to be going to Versailles. She went down and ate breakfast and didn't bother to take the key because she was sure we would be up by the time she was finished. We quickly got up and got ready to go!

Perhaps I should mention that my niece Charlotte has studied and read about the kings and queens of many nations, but most particularly England and France, all of her life. She is certainly the most knowledgeable person I know when it comes to who was married to whom, and when they lived, and who their children were, and how they exited the royal life: divorced, died off or beheaded, all the gory details. So visiting Versailles is kind of like the Holy Grail for her. I felt honored to be able to take her there.

Well, I almost didn't take her there. Matt and Jeanne got our tickets online for us last night, and gave us instructions about getting there. We were to take the RER C train to Versailles Rive Gauche. From there it was just a short walk to the Chateau. We found the train easily and were confidently watching the station names go by. Another tourist asked us in broken English, "Are you going to the Chateau?", and we said, "Oh, yes, just follow us; we know where we're going!" Then a French woman seated near us said, "You are going to the Chateau? Then you have missed your stop." The stop was named Viroflay Rive Gauche; there was nothing about Versailles, nothing about the Chateau. So we got off at the next stop. The woman assured us we would be able to walk to the Chateau, although it would be quite a hike.

Getting off at the next stop we were still in the town of Versailles. It was the three of us and the middle-European tourist we had conned into trusting us. But now a new problem: people were inserting tickets into the turnstyles, to exit the train platform. I had never seen this before. We didn't know what to do and were trying to find someone to ask, when another French lady, leading a group of confused tourists, approached. She was talking (in English) about what a shame it was that they didn't have better signage, and how confused all the tourists got about where to get off the train for the Chateau, etc., etc. Then she talked with the station master (?) and told him these tourists had to be let through the exits because it wasn't their fault they missed the stop, the country didn't have good signage and what a terrible reflection this was on the French people, etc., etc. Anyhow, we just silently joined the group of people she was helping. Thus began the formation of a strange little tourist group: the four people the French woman was helping originally, the three of us, and the middle-European guy. Off we set to find the Chateau, with the French woman cheerfully leading our rag-tag little band.

Of course we did make it to the Chateau and we had a wonderful day there. The opulence, the sheer beauty of it all, the size of it all, the names: Mansard, LeNotre, Marie Antoinette, the Dauphin; it's as if history has come alive. Charlotte was a wealth of information, and many times she began her stories where the audio guide left off. We had a great time.

I have to say, though, that even at the Chateau, the signage could use some work. We got lost twice trying to find the Trianon area, with the smaller chateau where Marie Antoinette preferred to live, and where she and Louis XVI had beautiful gardens with plants and trees from all over the world. We did manage to find a nice place to have lunch, midway between the Chateau and the Trianon. By that time we needed to sit down and rest our feet.

We finally headed back home at 5:00 after a full, full day. The ride home was a lot less eventful, to say the least. It's pretty easy once you know the routine. Back at the hotel we soaked our feet in hot water, took long showers and rested before going out to dinner. Matt had made reservations for us at Enoteca, an Italian restaurant near us. It was great just sitting (!) and eating dinner, and talking about the day and what we had seen. Charlotte thanked us for being troopers and walking as far as we did; we told her we'd be recovered enough to go to the Louvre tomorrow. Yikes! I might need some more foot-soaking.

We totally forgot about our feet as we ate Enoteca's excellent desserts, all of which are made in the restaurant. Beth had hazelnut ice cream with hot chocolate sauce (drowning in hot chocolate sauce, actually) and Charlotte and I had little chocolate cakes with ginger ice cream, strawberries and a drizzle of chocolate sauce. We were floating along on a sugar high on our way back to the hotel; a beautiful, balmy night, 10:00 and not fully dark, the cafes brimming with people drinking, smoking, laughing, talking. Paris.