I got up early on Saturday morning, around 7:30, with the intention of meeting John for coffee and pastry before heading off to Versailles. I told him to meet me at Notre Dame by 9:00, but he was nowhere to be found. By 9:20, I called him to find out what was up, and he told me that he'd just woken up. We bagged the cafe idea, instead planning simply to meet at Versailles around 10:30 along with Rishma and Marielle.
Seeing as I still had some time to kill, I walked around the Latin Quarter for a bit. Like most of Paris, it was really wonderful, but the Latin Quarter tends to be a night district, so few stores were open until 10:00, at which point I stopped into a great looking patisserie for a chocolate brioche, an apple fritter, and an elegant chocolate pastry.
The palace itself was simply stunning, full of everything you might imagine from Louis XIV. It was simply gaudy, with a seemingly endless number of rooms—700, with 2153 windows, 67 staircases, and 6,123 paintings—each one decorated in a different bright colored cloth. Over and over again we were provoked to ask the question, "why?" Why have so many rooms? Why have a bed with a bed if it isn't a bedroom? Why would anybody need a church in their house, let alone a two-story church with a grand organ? Why put an obelisk inside? Why have a hall of mirrors? The only reasonable response we could come up with was, "why not?" It seemed that at least every other room had no function and was simply furnished with chairs around the perimeter of the large space, to which we asked, "when would anybody use such a room?" Would they inquire for tea in the slightly mauve room one day? "I think we'll take tea in the scarlet room tomorrow." For this we could only come up with one answer, "if you have the means, why not?" To the common man or peasant, Versailles was reason enough for a revolution.
The palace was really gorgeous, and I particularly liked a room where maps were painted on the walls. It was fascinating to see the depiction of a vastly different looking Paris, and it's hard not to appreciate a room as grand as the hall of mirrors. After a bit though, the palace became numbing, as we seemed to be seeing the same rooms over and over again decorated in different colors. The whole place reminded me of Stanley Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, where an Irish peasant lucks into considerable wealth during the second half of the eighteenth century, somehow marrying into nobility. That movie, for me, depicted just how pointless much of the space really was, as some scenes showed the family sitting around in silence, basking in their own glory, not sure what else to do with it.
The gardens were equally endless and fabulous. We walked towards Marie Antoinette's private abode, twenty minutes out onto the property by foot. Of course, it began to rain halfway there, and we stopped in briefly at a cafe to grab some shelter.
There were not many flowers in the gardens, at least this time of year, but I think the French accounted for their climate, aiming to make it a beautiful landscape all year-round by filling it with fountains, sculpted bushes, orchards, and a gigantic cross-shaped pond that I can only imagine was used for rowing. It was built long enough to support competitions in both directions. As we approached the cafe, we saw two people coming off the pond in a small rowboat. Before long the rain subsided though, giving way to blue skies and brilliant white cumulus clouds. Just as we reached Marie Antoinette's house though, the next batch of rain began to pour down.
Marielle described this private residence as Marie's "Barbie" house due to its pink exterior. As she remarked, "even the orchard of trees outside is pink." Marie definitely loved this color, as a particularly intense shade of pink was used for the decorations in her bedroom. In keeping with the style of the rest of the palace, each room took on a different gaudy color. At least her house did not have nearly so many rooms, but upon seeing her large ballroom, we were again forced to ask, "why?" At least it seemed she had some hobbies, which could not be found in the main palace, represented in the form of a pool table and an easel.
When we were ready to return to Paris it was still pouring. We waited ten minutes for the shuttle to take us back to the palace. By the time we got back though, the weather had shifted back to blue skies and cumulus clouds. Even during our rainy season in Florence I didn't see this much shifting in weather.
John departed when we got back to Paris, and Rishma, Marielle, and I went back to the hotel. We hoped to meet up with some of the other girls at the catacombs, but by the time we got back, it was already 5:00, and they were closed. Rishma and Marielle had yet to see the Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower, so I left them for a bit, planning to meet up at the foot of the tower a bit later. I went off to see Montmartre and the famous Basilique du Sacre-Coeur.
The neighborhood of Montmartre, built up on the hill behind the Moulin Rouge, was really wonderful. I had a great time walking around up the hill, and I finally witnessed my first street artists in Paris at a plaza near the top. I'd expected to see artists around many of the major tourist sites, but today you mostly just find cheap copies of paintings others have made of the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame sold by street hustlers.
The Basilica was really fabulous, topped by white stone domes which appeared to me to have a large muslim influence. Of course, I went for the view though, which I'd heard was possibly the best in the city, and it did not disappoint. Up on the hill, you can see out over most of the city, although trees mostly obstruct a view of the Eiffel Tower. The great thing was, only thirty minutes earlier I had said to Rishma, "I'm surprised we haven't see a rainbow today with all of this sunny and rainy weather," and there at the top of Montmartre, I spotted the beginnings of a rainbow over one of the business districts out to the east. How much more could you ask for than a rainbow in Paris?
I then scrambled down to meet Rishma and Marielle at the Eiffel Tower. By the time I got there, they hadn't ascended it yet though, so I walked around the surrounding neighborhood for awhile, eventually making my way back towards the tower through the Jardin du Champ de Mars just as the tower lit up for the night. When I reached the foot of the tower, Rishma and Marielle were nowhere to be found. I knew we had to meet back at the hotel soon though, so I thought they might have already left, and I headed back myself.
When I reached the hotel, only Alex and Jen were there, but they informed me we weren't going out until 11:30. We were having a large dinner for Kate and Jen, who would each be celebrating their twenty-first birthdays in the coming week. I used the spare time to catch up on my sleep, as I napped a little while watching the French-Lithuania soccer match.
We went to a fancy place in the Bastille district for dinner. They had the best butter for bread, and Jen's dad treated us to two bottles of champagne. I was tempted by foie gras again, but I thought once was enough for the trip. Instead, I ordered a pumpkin-chestnut soup, which was quite tasty. For an entree, I did get duck though, this time in the form of a confit over sauerkraut. I liked the duck, but I didn't really enjoy the juxtaposition of flavors with the sauerkraut. Dessert was my favorite, as I got a chocolate cake which turned out to be closer to a fudgy mousse, like I'd had earlier in the day. It was served over a layer of vanilla sauce with a hint of rum.
By the time we left the restaurant it was 3:00AM, and we had an early flight that morning. Tryson, Jaimie, and Marielle decided to head back to the hotel, and the rest of us decided to stay up, killing the next two hours between a few bars near the restaurant. At 5:00 we had to head back in order to make our 6:45 bus to the airport. I was mostly packed though, so I headed off in advance of the group, and I went to see the Arc de Triomphe at night.
I then headed down Avenue de la Grande Armée towards the bus station, and was there with plenty of time to spare, so I stopped for a cappuccino at the cafe across the street. It took me a while to adjust to the Italian concept of drinking coffee while standing at the bar, but now I quite like the idea, and I was happy to find that this French place did the same. I was at the station by 6:35, and soon thereafter met up with the rest of the group as we departed for Beauvais, Pisa, and eventually Florence.
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