Saturday morning, we met up, and walked to the Gare Austerlitz to take the RER (the French equivalent of Metro North) to Versailles. The train ride took about 40-minutes, and within the hour, we were at the Palais of Versailles.
I had never been to the actual palace before, though I had visited the town when I was much younger. Naturally, I was expecting it to be, well, ridiculous. I was expected gold and fleur-de-lis and riches dripping from the walls; however, nothing could prepare me for what is was actually like.
To be brief, it was absolutely insane. Like woah, guys. Good job. The thing is huge. It's extraordinary. It defies explanation. And yes, I know that's what she said.
The only downside to our visit was that we had to pay the full price for admission, because there was no student tarif, but I guess that's ok, because I can't even imagine how much money they have to invest to keep the place in tip-top shape. We pay $40 each time we get our 1/2 acre lawn mowed. How much must it cost to mow, oh I don't know, like a million acres? I don't want to think about it.
Soon after arriving, and being mistaken for a German tourist (the lady was kind enough to give me a map in German--der Garten von Versailles! ACH!), I remembered why my parents and I had never gone: it's something that we call "Eurocrush" in my family. "Eurocrush" is what happens during the summer in Europe when every tourist is in the same place trying to so the same thing at the same time. Luckily we were there on a weekday in June before the major tourist season, and the crowds, while large, were manageable. Oh and also, the place is so huge that you could fit all of a small Eastern European country there anyway.
I cannot even fathom people living in a place like that. That's something that always really shocks me: when I think about the place *in use* and teeming with courtiers and the people who *lived* there. I cannot even imagine it. One really scary image was thinking of the day when the Palace was stormed by the crowds of rabid revolutionaries. That must have been a sight to end all sights.
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The Palace was extraordinary. The Hall of Mirrors was dazzling. Their own miniature Louvre was mind-blowing. You get the idea.
The price of our tickets also included a visit to the Trianons, the "little modest country cottages" that Marie-Antoinette inhabited on the edge of the massive gardens. The day was hot and the sun was beating down on us, which was lucky considering that most of the days I have spent here have been rainy or cloudy. The Gardens. Wow. Huge. Back in the day, how in God's name did they landscape the place? I can see it now: a thousand peasants armed with scissors and going out to cut the lawn. I pity them.
The Trianons were lovely--much more manageable and much easier to appreciate, mainly on account of their size. I was especially amused by Marie-Antoinette's "cottage" which is a mini-Versailles that she inhabited to get away and to live her deluded dream of being a shepherdess. Apparently, back in the day, there were little farm animals and gardens that she would tend. I'm pretty sure, however, that "gardening" went something like this:
MA: Servant, could you replace that flower there? The colour bothers me. Yes, the pink should suffice.
Servant: As you wish.
MA: Hm, actually, I liked the purple better. can you put it back? Oh well, no. Hm. Maybe the red.
The highlight of the visit was seeing Marie-Antoinette's gardening tools. There was a scythe, a shovel, a rake, and whatnot. However, they were all miniature and covered in velvet and tassels. So, basically, the "scythe" was 5 inches long. Not very effective, Marie.
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