Versaille.. oh my God
Every now and then one makes a decision that has consequences out of all proportion to the plan. It seemed simple: the last major tourist jaunt in Paris before some general site-seeing. Snow and ice were predicted, but that wouldn’t stop two intrepid explorers, would it?
Like hell, it wouldn’t. From the moment we left the train at Versaille station, it was apparent that every tourist in Europe shared our idea. By bus, train and snow, they tramped to and through the chateau, and one felt sorry for the attendants and the conservators. Even the revolutionary crowds would not have caused as much damage.
We now have classified the various components of this rolling mall: the detemined French, the loud and obnoxious Spanish,the rude and pushy Italians, the whining Americans – and somewhere underfoot, the Poms, who know how to queue but don’t understand why no one else follows the same rules. It takes all sorts to make a world: and the good, bad and ugly all came to Versaille.
As an experience it was forgetable, for the hall of Mirrors. Even the gardens were too challenging with all the ice underfoot. We made our own fun, as usual; but the day left us feeling that we had not won the game today. A really crap meal rounded out a less than perfect day.
Well if it is any consolation, we caught the train to Versaille only to find that the palace was closed (it was Monday, no one told us Paris closes on Monday!) We did get to walk around the magnificent gardens and toured Marie Antoinette’s cottage and personal garden.