Versaille is a 45 minute train ride from Paris. Derek and I stopped by our favorite corner bakery, picked up the most indulgent pastries we'd had yet (one filled with almond paste and covered in toasted almonds, the other stuffed with raspberries and chocolate and covered in a light glaze and sliced almonds....I'm literally drooling right now thinking about it), and made our way to the station.
We rode the line and talked to a couple from the States who had seen pick pockets working at a station. The man was a police officer in Canada and, although he saw a teen girl remove a wallet from a man's pocket, was unable to get her to produce it when he called her out...it had already been passed off through a maze of coordinated teens. He told us how the operation works - younger people, seemingly on their own, operate in a web, passing items off, so that if any of them is caught, the item is no longer on their person. There are signs all over the stations warning people of this. We didn't have anything taken, but we're very dilligent travelers - I don't carry a purse and Derek keeps his wallet in a front jacket pocket, always sealed, nearly in front of his face. There you go...if you want to rip us off, you know where to hit us now if you decide to pickpocket us abroad ;-)
It's Friday. This is important, because there are days no one should plan to visit Versailles (because everyone else plans to visit Versailles on those days). This place is a magnet for tourists, so never go on Sunday or Tuesday - it's closed Mondays, so obviously don't go then either. Saturday is a foolish time too, because the traffic is at an all time high on weekend days UNLESS you're a genius and visit during the summer when they do a special night show of the fountains only on Saturdays - then by all means! Our main focus was the famous Musical Gardens, which the Versailles estate only makes active on a specific schedule...it's worth the expanded ticket, believe me. Just pick a date where the fountains and music are on, but that's trickier than you'd think. Their schedule is more than a little haphazard, so check it carefully before you go.
It's not early. We're on vacation, so no one's talking Derek into waking up early to see fountains and tapestries, so we arrive around noon. The line outside the palace is probably a 3 hour wait...for people who pre-purchased tickets. Let that sink in.
We skip the palace and head to the gardens which we entered with ease...unlike many, who were being turned away with confusion-stricken faces at the fact that their tickets didn't cover the grounds. Do your homework - pay all the money and go wherever you want. Or don't, but then yeah, you can't see everything. It's not an all-you-can-eat buffet, unfortunately.
So, we wander the gardens, watching the fountains dance along with pre-recorded Baroque music. We got ourselves lost wandering among the huge hedges that formed a very Harry Potter-esque maze (if there had been a cup, I'd not have touched it, believe you me) and out to the main gardens.
We passed out of the gates at the waterway at the edge of the property and rented a row boat for an hour. The sun was shining, we had brought baguettes and wine, and paddled away, getting sunburned but hardly caring for our joy of such a peaceful day.
We bought gelato at a little snack stand and sat on the grass for our picnic (yes, wine, gelato and bread, that's all one needs here). Derek fell asleep (he does at every park we stop at) and I wandered back to the gardens to take pictures (take your ticket everywhere with you...they won't let you in again if you left it with the backpack your sleeping husband is guarding). I took a bajillion. And now I'm stuck editing them all. I'd be disheartened if I didn't get so much joy from reliving that day through them.
We spent all day in the gardens, and just an hour before the palace was going to close, we hopped in a much shorter (but still ridiculously long) line with a million other people and I took photos of the palace while Derek held our place in line. When we finally reached the entrance, we were shuffled through each room with the mob - I could literally have picked my feet up off the ground and would have been moved through the place through the pressure of other bodies holding me up. This wasn't what I remembered of Versailles.
My favorite room of all time is the Hall of Mirrors. Louis XIV was the biggest show off...as if he didn't have enough splendor in the estate and grounds, he filled a giant hall with the most precious and expensive items at the time - mirrors. There are 357 in all, primarily arranged in 17 pillared sections, which reflected guilded sculptures, marble walls, delicate chandeliers and the gardens through the enormous open windows. Oh, and the people. That's the other thing they reflect. Hundreds of people, all holding up their ipads and phones and listening to their translated audio guides, clumped in groups and shuffling together through the hall to cram into the next room. All the photos I took were of the ceiling. You'll just have to check out the photos online of the hall when it's blissfully empty - that's the only way any human not employed by the estate will view it that way again. It's a stark contrast to the garden, and Derek vastly preferred the garden. My memories of the place have been replaced with reality, and it's lost a bit of shine for its extreme popularity (perhaps it was the time of year...but I chalk it up to its beauty, historical significance, and the fact that people simply travel more). But hey, we're here, so I suppose they all should be also :-)
Edit: I originally posted without mentioning that after we visited the Palace, I hit absolutely every. single. fountain, whether it was running or not, until there were guards literally locking the grottos behind me as the gardens closed. Derek was patient, but only the "I'm in love with you so I'll be patient" patient, not the raptured engaged kind of patient that I'd have preferred. Oh, Bassin du Dragon, I'll return to see you in action yet!
Before we took the train back, we stopped off for a "real food" dinner at a cafe near the station. That real food was flambeed crepes, obviously. French flame on french crepes...our lives were complete. Derek had a savory, I had a sweet, and we hopped the train to head back.
Instead of getting off at our stop, we went a bit further to the Arc de Triomph, to see it at night. It's glorious at night. There's a restaurant nearby that my brother had recommended called Le Relais de l'Entrecote on Rue Marbeuf which serves amazing steak tartar. Tragically, it was closed, but we stopped next door at a restaurant that was equally amazing.
At Restaurant Le Bistro Marbeuf, we had a bottle of white wine and incredible bread, we shared french onion soup and I had the duck (I want to eat like this every day). No steak tartar - we'll come back tomorrow and search that out. A family sitting behind us was clearly from the US. They didn't even try saying hello to the waiter in french (do at least that - they really appreciate you making even a basic effort), they asked to substitute items (I died - pretty please don't be that person), they asked if the shrimp dish was vegetarian after they had it in front of them (what an amazing question), and they told us they were visiting Versailles tomorrow (Saturday...the weekend of Easter. Worst decision ever). We made small talk - they were from Ohio - then we walked home. Was it a long walk? Everything seems closer than it is here. Derek was so beat from walking that he forbid me from going across the street to get a perfect night shot of the Eiffel Tower. So you can thank him and his tired tourist feet for my lack of frame-worthy Eiffel night pictures. I do. Just kidding :-|
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