Paris, Day 6: Versailles. Le sigh.
The exhaustion is beginning to tell. I think both Elizabeth and I are beginning to feel the lack of good sleep, the lack of familiarity, and the press of time. We chose to spend ten days in Paris because it was clear we couldn't do everything we wanted to in seven. At the same time, in order to beat crowds and spend our time well, we've been getting up early and trying to maximize our opportunities for site-seeing by walking rather than taking the subway. What this has done is made us extremely footsore and, at this point in the trip, a little tense. Today, I think it got to us both a bit, and Versailles didn't help.
Our original plan was to be out the door by 8 AM, to get to Versailles at 9 before the crowds really begin to hit at 10. We got a late start. Though I woke ridiculously early and couldn't go back to sleep, I wanted to let Elizabeth get the sleep that was clearly escaping me, so I didn't wake her at 7 but at 7:30, which meant we both got started later. We narrowly avoided getting on a train going in the wrong direction to Versailles. An accordian player and a sax player serenaded our train car at the start of the trip, which would have been more entertaining if it hadn't been so loud. Misseur Reek helped get us to Versailles without making a wrong turn.
The place is massive. One's first impression, as one approaches, is of lots of gold: golden gates, golden window frames, golden roof trim. And lots of statuary all over the buildings. And it's another place that fills the field of vision. The French clearly love gargantuan construction that makes a statement. We tried to sign up for a guided tour in English; they were all already full. So we headed into Versailles, using Misseur Reek as a guide--and it immediately became clear that it was going to be a day of fighting crowds. Really big crowds.
The tour starts with a look at the royal chapel, a study in excess, with paintings on the walls and gold everywhere. And then the museum funnels you into a series of rooms explaining the history of Versailles. On the face of it, this looks like good crowd control, but it rapidly became exhausting as we jostled our way around to read the captions beneath paintings and dioramas--and this was before we actually got to see any of the rooms! When we finally got to see the rooms, as magnificent and over-the-top as they were, there was more jostling in the crowd. It all got to Elizabeth much sooner than it got to me, and I felt bad about the experience. It had been my recommendation to push off seeing Versailles until we had nicer weather so we could enjoy the gardens, but by pushing it off until the weekend, we found ourselves in a crush of people that just wrung any potential joy from the experience.
So we threaded our way through the rapidly thickening armies of tourists from every portion of the globe, standing against walls to try to avoid the press of bodies, staring up at extravagantly painted and sculpted ceilings, and marveling at the almost obscene excess. Learning about how even the king's getting up in the morning became a ritual in court life--as the sun king rose and set each day, so did life in France--was a little gobsmacking; he was worshipped in a similar way to the ancient Egyptian kings and queens. At one point, Elizabeth observed that Versailles helps one understand the French Revolution much better, and it's really true.
We tried to escape the crowds by getting lunch in one of the cafes. It worked marginally well. I purchased a mille feuilles for us as dessert to help take the edge off and by way of apology for such a difficult experience. We stopped at the gift shop, where I picked up a book about the real man in the iron mask, and then headed out to the gardens . . . which required a separate 7 Euro fee because of the music and fountain show they were running. At that point, in the wake of the crowds and everything else we decided to just leave. The prospect of paying for the privilege of not enjoying blaring classical music and a fancy water show seemed insult on top of injury, and so we left. While I regret not seeing the gardens, of which I got only a glimpse from palace windows, I don't regret it all that much. Instead, we strolled the streets of the surrounding town, purchased some pastries, and then headed back to the apartment.
Where we drank a whole bottle of wine, ate our delicious pastries, and each took a nap.
We woke to attend a ghost walk for which we'd purchased tickets earlier in the week. I've been on these things before so I had some idea of what to expect: history, bad jokes, a couple of ghost stories, a lot of tales of murder, and walks to places one might not otherwise see. Which is pretty much what we got. Our tour guide was a short, dark-haired and bearded fellow (whom Elizabeth said reminded her of davidlevine) in black slacks, vest, and top hat with a red cravat. He spoke very good English, but his delivery sometimes oversold and sometimes undersold his material. Still, we got to hear some interesting stories, and enjoyed a walk under the full Paris moon. After that, I had to retire. I was well and truly done.
I have no idea what we'll be doing today. We deliberately decided to sleep in and not make plans. We'll see where the day takes us.
Our original plan was to be out the door by 8 AM, to get to Versailles at 9 before the crowds really begin to hit at 10. We got a late start. Though I woke ridiculously early and couldn't go back to sleep, I wanted to let Elizabeth get the sleep that was clearly escaping me, so I didn't wake her at 7 but at 7:30, which meant we both got started later. We narrowly avoided getting on a train going in the wrong direction to Versailles. An accordian player and a sax player serenaded our train car at the start of the trip, which would have been more entertaining if it hadn't been so loud. Misseur Reek helped get us to Versailles without making a wrong turn.
The place is massive. One's first impression, as one approaches, is of lots of gold: golden gates, golden window frames, golden roof trim. And lots of statuary all over the buildings. And it's another place that fills the field of vision. The French clearly love gargantuan construction that makes a statement. We tried to sign up for a guided tour in English; they were all already full. So we headed into Versailles, using Misseur Reek as a guide--and it immediately became clear that it was going to be a day of fighting crowds. Really big crowds.
The tour starts with a look at the royal chapel, a study in excess, with paintings on the walls and gold everywhere. And then the museum funnels you into a series of rooms explaining the history of Versailles. On the face of it, this looks like good crowd control, but it rapidly became exhausting as we jostled our way around to read the captions beneath paintings and dioramas--and this was before we actually got to see any of the rooms! When we finally got to see the rooms, as magnificent and over-the-top as they were, there was more jostling in the crowd. It all got to Elizabeth much sooner than it got to me, and I felt bad about the experience. It had been my recommendation to push off seeing Versailles until we had nicer weather so we could enjoy the gardens, but by pushing it off until the weekend, we found ourselves in a crush of people that just wrung any potential joy from the experience.
So we threaded our way through the rapidly thickening armies of tourists from every portion of the globe, standing against walls to try to avoid the press of bodies, staring up at extravagantly painted and sculpted ceilings, and marveling at the almost obscene excess. Learning about how even the king's getting up in the morning became a ritual in court life--as the sun king rose and set each day, so did life in France--was a little gobsmacking; he was worshipped in a similar way to the ancient Egyptian kings and queens. At one point, Elizabeth observed that Versailles helps one understand the French Revolution much better, and it's really true.
We tried to escape the crowds by getting lunch in one of the cafes. It worked marginally well. I purchased a mille feuilles for us as dessert to help take the edge off and by way of apology for such a difficult experience. We stopped at the gift shop, where I picked up a book about the real man in the iron mask, and then headed out to the gardens . . . which required a separate 7 Euro fee because of the music and fountain show they were running. At that point, in the wake of the crowds and everything else we decided to just leave. The prospect of paying for the privilege of not enjoying blaring classical music and a fancy water show seemed insult on top of injury, and so we left. While I regret not seeing the gardens, of which I got only a glimpse from palace windows, I don't regret it all that much. Instead, we strolled the streets of the surrounding town, purchased some pastries, and then headed back to the apartment.
Where we drank a whole bottle of wine, ate our delicious pastries, and each took a nap.
We woke to attend a ghost walk for which we'd purchased tickets earlier in the week. I've been on these things before so I had some idea of what to expect: history, bad jokes, a couple of ghost stories, a lot of tales of murder, and walks to places one might not otherwise see. Which is pretty much what we got. Our tour guide was a short, dark-haired and bearded fellow (whom Elizabeth said reminded her of davidlevine) in black slacks, vest, and top hat with a red cravat. He spoke very good English, but his delivery sometimes oversold and sometimes undersold his material. Still, we got to hear some interesting stories, and enjoyed a walk under the full Paris moon. After that, I had to retire. I was well and truly done.
I have no idea what we'll be doing today. We deliberately decided to sleep in and not make plans. We'll see where the day takes us.