Versailles

While we were in Paris, we decided to take a day trip to Versailles since it's an easy 1/2 hour train ride away. On the train we were treated to an accordion song. Unlike the little gypsy boy on the Circumvesuviana train in Italy, who played badly, stared you down for money, and then individually cursed each person who didn't hand it over in Italian, this guy was actually good. He also seemed very enthusiastic about his music, tapping to the beat, so this time we donated to the cause.

We never intended to go inside Versailles as neither of us were interested in the gilded, baroque interiors or the mob scene to actually buy tickets and take the tour. We came for the gardens. I know, we're not really "garden" people either, but wanted to see the scale of this manicured paradise we'd heard so much about.


Again, not knowing much about the history of Versailles except that a lot of guys named Louis lived there, here are our top 10 weird & wonderful things about Versailles.

10. Rows of sculpted trees. The avenues are so long your eyes can't decipher it—the trees just about disappear into infinity. This seems to be the foundation of the garden with endless avenues and types of trees sculpted into perfection. It also showed man's (or the King's) dominance over nature.




9. Mowing. Even the guys at Versailles mow steep slopes by lowering a lawn mower down with a rope, just like our neighbor on Halpin. If they don't have a better way of doing it here, I guess there isn't one.


And I thought we had a lot of mowing obstacles in our yard...


8. Madame de Maintenon. Morganatic wife of King Louis XIV, she was the only member of royalty ever credited with saying "Hey, shouldn't we stop sinking money into this place and FEED our people?" I thought she deserved a mention for her opposition. Who knows, if the king had actually listened to his wife, the Revolution may have been averted. I think that's a lesson for us all...

7. Topiaries. These aren't fake, but are very dense, carefully manicured sculptures that show up everywhere throughout the gardens. Not a hair, or leaf in this case, out of place. Pat's favorites are the ones with "satellites."




6. The grand scale of it all. The gardens span about 3 miles from the the Chateau to the back of the Grand Canal and also about 1 1/2 miles on each side of it. At one time the Grand Canal had 9 ships, including a 32-cannon warship, in addition to Venetian gondolas for royal transportation over the waterway. It's huge. It's grand. You couldn't even really see front to back because there was a little haze in the air.




5. Garden transportation. Because of the grand scale, there are many modes of transportation rented to tourists to fully experience the gardens. These range from a tram, golf carts, bikes and Segways to row boats. We decided to stick with our feet (if we had known about Segway rental at the beginning that probably would have changed) and came to regret it later. It also begs the question how the royalty actually moved through the gardens. I can hardly see them trekking around in all that getup, powdered make-up dripping off their brows. It is said that Louis XIV had "15 rolling chairs upholstered in damask of various colors for his less energetic guests."


4. Man either emerging from, or returning to, the earth. The volcanic-like rock is a nice touch. If the fountains were on, it looks like water would shoot out of his mouth. Turns out, the real explanation is that this is the story of winter as "...a sad old Saturn lies down wearily amid the shells and seaweed." Looks more like agony than tiredness to me...


3. Marie Antoinette's Hamlet. Commissioned by Marie Antoinette, this was a collection of 8 small, idealized thatch-roofed cottages that may have inspired Disney himself. The plaster walls were even painted with cracks to make them look weathered and authentic. This life-size doll house came complete with vegetables, livestock, a mill, and dairy. Unlike any other part of the estate, access was strictly limited here and even the King had to ask her permission to come. Some describe this as a Queen's desperate attempt to get away from the grandeur and formality of the palace to a simpler, rustic country life. Others look at is as a perverse playground, costing too much money, and where even the lambs were groomed and perfumed for times when she wanted to play shepherdess.



Today sheep graze just outside of the Hamlet. With its extra-fluffy mane, this one looks like it could be worthy of Marie Antoinette's sensibilities.

2. The Orangerie. This is an entertaining symphony of plant placement. We think that every white tick mark on the ground will get a potted plant and, while we were there, workers were busy bringing them out of winter storage. This was just another way the King showed his power. Despite the fact that none of the 21 varieties of citrus, palm, pomegranate, clove, and oleander potted plants can survive in the French climate, HE was able to make them grow and bear fruit. This was (and is) an elaborately orchestrated and expensive proposition. Only outside in the warmer months, the pots are all carted back indoors inside massive cavities beneath the staircases and balustrade. In the 17th century, the gardeners kept the plants warm during the winter with fires made with coal imported from England. I'm guessing these plants were warmer than the peasants.





Careful... careful... this palm brushed the top of the giant doors, but certainly wasn't the tallest one we saw come out.



1. The Bosquet de la Salle de Bal. To us, this is the volcanic "Roman" amphitheater. Turns out this is more literally a "ballroom." According to some information I found, "...spectators were seated on... steps cushioned for them with a covering of grass. [I'm guessing the boxwoods weren't there then] Opposite them, water cascaded down the steps inset with shells brought back to France by Louis's navy from India, Madagascar and the Red Sea. The musicians stood above this cascade while dancers performed in the centre of the salle. Candelabra perched between the waterfalls illuminated this scéne de fée."







Some unfortunate worker had the pleasure of individually wiring each of these stones to a framework judging by a small hole we found.

If you end up in the neighborhood, it's good to know that the gardens themselves are free, but just about anything inside will cost. On summer weekends, starting in April, they turn on all the fountains and play music. They also charge an admission. As Pat said, that's probably fair since there are SO MANY fountains that they probably need the money to break even on the utility bills :) Seeing the gardens with the fountains on would totally change it and, I'm sure, would be even more impressive. I guess it gives us a reason to possibly return someday.

Built for Kings given power by God himself, this place is insane. As you walk around, you can't help but quote Mel Brooks... "It's good to be the King."

Paris

Ah, Paris. City of lights, city of love. The trip that almost didn't happen. (Note to future UK train travelers—local train service on the weekend can be canceled on a whim without notification and there is little to no personnel at the train station early in the morning to help you. You're suppose to know to check that the train is running before you leave. We didn't and barely made the Eurostar train from London to Paris by a different route—a stressful start.)

I'm not going to write about what I don't know, and that's a lot when it comes to France. Neither Pat nor I know French or much about the history, culture, and politics of the country. The cities we visited on this trip are some of those unusual places that neither one of us had been before.

Afraid of the snobbish French stereotype, we tried our best to use some simple French phrases, mostly "Parlez-vous anglais... s'il vous plaît??" (Do you speak English... please??) Even that, we probably didn't pronounce correctly—we would have embarrassed Jannelle quite a bit :) The really sad part is that we have spent more time trying to learn Italian and more time in Italy recently so we were si-ing when we should have been oui-ing. It surprised me how much Italian I have retained and how that always came to mind first when struggling for basic phrases. This is not to say that I could survive in Italy using only simple Italian either. Pat's co-workers assured him that he'd be able to get by using mostly English in France, that the French rudeness has dissipated when faced with the almighty tourist Euro. I told Pat we weren't there to make friends, just to see what we wanted to see, and try to be polite enough that we wouldn't get a lugee in our food. Sightseeing in Paris for 2 1/2 days, we got to see everything we had planned to, but there is certainly a lot more out there. You could probably spend a week in the myriad of museums alone, not to mention all of the neighborhoods we didn't get a chance to see.

With all of that being said, what follows is our very subjective view of Paris, comprised mostly of pretty pictures...

What struck us almost immediately is the large scale, and very dramatic, city planning. The French seem to be experts in sculpting views. It becomes very obvious that this can only be achieved through a tyrannical monarchy with a strong vision. Our very first stop was at Napoleon I's Arc de Triomphe, where 12 streets intersect in one massive, chaotic roundabout with no lanes (think Chevy Chase's European Vacation x 10). This is the only roundabout in Paris where the people coming into it have the right of way. It's also the only place where neither party is at fault if you're in an accident and both insurance companies split the bill 50-50. Luckily, there's an underground passageway for pedestrians to safely reach the Arc in the center of this madness. We climbed the 284 steps inside the Arc to tour the interior rooms (there are a few and they're surprisingly large) and to get a better view of Paris (and the entertaining traffic below) from the top.


As you stand at the Arc, you can see straight down the Champs-Elysées to the Egyptian obelisk, and into the center of the Louvre.




The 3,300 year old, 72 ft., 220-ton red granite obelisk of Luxor was a gift from Egypt in the 1830s and took 2 years of torturous travel to get from Egypt to its current resting place. What always amazes me about these ancient obelisks, whether here or in Rome, is how perfect and crisp the engravings are since they were done in such a hard stone. They always look brand new to me.


In the space between the obelisk and the Louvre are the manicured Tuileries Gardens, gilded fountains on the Place de la Concorde square, and another smaller Arc du Carrousel.






If I knew, I forgot that the Louvre started out as a palace that dates back to 1200—it only became an art museum after the Revolution in 1793. The large, airy, ostentatious interiors made an interesting backdrop to the art. Seeing the mob scene at the Louvre, I was afraid of another Sistine Chapel repeat (being herded like cattle almost single file through a maze of hot, sweaty rooms where you have to wear pants and where I became thoroughly disgusted by the wealth of the catholic church). I can report that the Louvre is better than the Vatican Museum. It is temperature controlled, there isn't a dress code, and most importantly, there are infinite routes to take and lots of space so that you can avoid the press of humanity.








Of course, the most crowded parts are around the most popular attractions. We braved the throngs to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo statue, and The Winged Victory of Samothrace statue. I didn't realize Napoleon III's apartments in the palace had been left intact so we ran through those so I could see what the gilded age was all about. As I expected, it's complete visual overload with grandeur dripping from every orifice, but a marvel, or maybe a curiosity, similar to a traffic accident. Below is a picture of a more digestable room—I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the really gaudy stuff.


As I've said before, we're not museum people so we spent as much time in there as our feet and patience could take and then headed back out into the world where the sun was shining for the first time during our trip.

We visited Ile de la Cité, Pont Neuf, Ile St. Louis and, of course, Notre Dame. I don't know if it's because we now live within sight of the Minster in York, or if it's because I've visited more churches in the last 9 months than in my lifetime combined, but it wasn't as impactful as I would have thought and actually looked small. Of course it's still worth seeing. The buttresses are flying elegantly, the rose windows are more impressive in scale and number than any I've seen, and in the spring you have beauty blooming all around it.






Then there's the Eiffel Tower—one of those international icons that lives up to its reputation when you see it in person. What truly amazes me is that it was meant to be temporary and was suppose to be torn down in 1909, but is still structurally sound today. I was surprised that it's brown. I guess most of the images I've seen are black and white or artificially darkened because of the bright sky behind. Here's an interesting Wikipedia fact on that... "Maintenance of the tower includes applying 50 to 60 tonnes of paint every seven years to protect it from rust. In order to maintain a uniform appearance to an observer on the ground, three separate colors of paint are used on the tower, with the darkest on the bottom and the lightest at the top. On occasion the color of the paint is changed; the tower is currently painted a shade of brownish-grey." When it gets dark, the tower has a light show for the first 10 minutes of every hour—white lights all over the structure blink randomly making it glitter. It is well worth seeing.


Advice for future travelers to the Eiffel Tower: 1) Go with patience. You're easily looking at more than an hour wait to go up, day or night, even midweek. I overheard in line that you can buy tickets in advance online and get into the almost non-existent fast lane. That would be worth looking into. 2) Be prepared for a carnival atmosphere—there are carousels, ice cream galore, and trinkets available from every third person. It is after all probably THE tourist sight in Paris. 3) They say the view from the second level is usually best because of pollution, etc. at the top. It is a pretty view, but I'd have to admit that the Empire State Building is better (at least at night—the "City of Lights" can't compete with the amount of electricity surging through the Big Apple anymore).

Riding the elevator inside the tower is an experience in itself. The original mechanisms for lifting the elevator are still being used, but have been restored and computerized. As Wikipedia describes, "The passenger lifts from ground level to the first level are operated by cables and pulleys driven by massive water-powered pistons. As they ascend the inclined arc of the legs, the elevator cabins tilt slightly, but with a slight jolt every few seconds, in order to keep the floor nearly level." This, in addition to the glass walls of the elevator, can be a little disconcerting. When you get out you can see the little platform on the outside of the elevator where the "driver" used to control the elevator with a wheel—not a job I would want. Now the "drivers" are inside pushing buttons.

Ok, so enough of the big sights. You have to see them, but one of the real reasons I wanted to go to Paris was to experience the ambiance, or je ne sais quoi, that you always hear about.

For this, you only have to walk the streets to experience it. Between the architectural elegance, the thousands of sidewalk cafes, sidewalk art, leafy green parks, and the tasty treats on every corner, Paris is a special place.









(Pont Alexandre III bridge across the Seine)


(one of the original Metro, or subway, entrances)


(a little Art Nouveau that reminded us of Barcelona)

The cuisine (I think referring to it as "food" might be insulting) was great. Not to say that we didn't have a bad meal, but the majority were so good they canceled out the bad. Excellent sauces, tender beef, creamy potatoes, wonderful quiche, chocolate mousse, and chocolate cake gave us a taste of what French cooking is all about. Pat even dove into some excellent escargot and mussels—I'll have to take his word for that. We also had some good international fare ranging from sushi (how we miss you) and gyros. I can safely say much of it was better than anything I've had in Britain (with the exception of Indian and Sticky Toffee Pudding).

What I really appreciate is the bread culture. In Britain, they are big proponents of free-range eggs. I would say the French are big fans of free-range bread. I can't tell you how many times I saw people walking the streets with a big old baguette in their hand. Naked, golden crust exposed to the wind and held only by a napkin handle, these loaves get a good view of the town on their way to the chopping block—what better way to live? In fact, the French take their bread products so seriously that you can only be qualified to make either bread OR pastry, since it is assumed that no one person can do BOTH well :) Many times, the two disciplines will partner to sell both goods in one store. Judging by the number of free-range loaves and quantity of boulangeries/pâtisseries (bread shops/pastry shops), buying fresh bread must be an almost daily event. That's a love affair I can get on board with.


We frequented our local boulangerie/pâtisserie for breakfasts, feasting on superb bread, croissants, and other pastry treats with apple, almond, or chocolate fillings. The nice thing about the French versions is that they aren't sickly sweet like the American attempts. Don't get me wrong, I am not under the impression that they are healthy, but you do need some fuel for the "Bataan Death March" as Pat fondly referred to our vacation.

Feet tired and sore, but stomachs pleasantly full, we left Paris... au revoir!

Happy 30th JAMIE!!

We celebrated my big day in Paris. Never in a million years did I think I'd say "I turned 30 in Paris," but I guess you never know, do you? We had a great day wandering around the Latin quarter, touring the Louvre, and then had a tasty dinner with outstanding Bordelaise sauce followed up by a nighttime trip to the second platform of the Eiffel Tower.

Even though I abandoned the British Isle for my big day, I recently learned that my birthday is (or was) a big day for the British too. I always knew William Shakespeare was born on April 23rd and died on April 23rd, which is both interesting and bizarre. I didn't know that April 23rd is also St. George's Day, which used to be celebrated on par with Christmas. St. George is England's patron saint, a partly mythical dragon-slaying martyr. Today, I think only the historic sites and random card shops, looking for another reason to sell goods, celebrate it. I can't say I have much in common with either Will or George, but it's cool all the same.

our last visitors

Unless any of you are sitting on airline tickets you haven't told us about, Lauren and Jeff are our last visitors in England. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we also visited them in their fancy digs down south in Kent.

Their place was a nice, modern stand alone villa on the estate of Broome Park. An old manor house, Broome Park is part country club, part hotel, part restaurant/pub, and part check-in center for the place Lauren and Jeff stayed. It was quite impressive. We spent one night in front of the fire inside the "pub"/drawing room which was welcome after the chilly, rainy day.

(the back of Broome Park)




(reception room/lobby with a stalactite ceiling)



When they came up to York, we did the usual gauntlet of sites, frequented a pub or two, and had some great Indian food.




We also managed to get a quick trip in to Masham for the Theakston brewery tour (see the archived post for background). After going on both Masham brewery tours, I'd have to say that the Black Sheep tour was better, but the Theakston ambiance and pub for the post-tour pint was superior. You'll have to ask Pat about the beers, but I haven't seen any disappointment in any of them :)






The night before we left for Paris, we went on one of York's ghost tours with Lauren and Jeff. According to the web, York was "named the most haunted city in the world by the Ghost Research Foundation International (GRFI)." Who knew there was such a thing?


I think one of the best stories is the guy who saw Roman ghosts in the basement of the Treasurer's House (see the archived post for a summary of the story). Another story concerns George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham who is suppose to haunt the Cock & Bottle pub.

"It is believed the ghost of George Villiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, haunts this pub because his house once stood at that location. He lived during the reign of Charles II and was known to have many affairs with women. In fact, the nursery rhyme “Georgie Porgie” was all about George."

Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie Porgie ran away.

"...His ghost is described as a man with long black wavy hair, large nose and wearing an embroidered outfit. He seems to be spotted by women only and has been known to fondle them."

It was a very entertaining tour and presented well, although, I have to confess, I was expecting more gore and really creepy stuff. I was happy that it wasn't too cheesy.

Last, but certainly not least, I have to give Lauren and Jeff a big "Thank You" for bringing a replacement camera with them. The new advanced technology (including higher mega pixels and image stabilization) almost made the old one worth dropping, but if I had known about the best unadvertised feature, the cinching wrist strap, I would have been sold immediately :)