Versailles

Another Big Day Out for the Fosters, who visited the palace of Versailles on Tuesday.

We had a very early start to allow for the 45 minute train trip. Eleanor, no morning person, was not best pleased with this. We walked to the metro near the Musee D'Orsay, near a beaut statue of a rhino, to avoid to much swapping of lines in the underground. This was when Eleanor remarked that she had not gone to the toilet this morning. Oh, dear; these stations do not come with conveniences. This is no doubt why they smell of excrement. Thankfully, Eleanor managed not to add to the odour. We rushed her into a loo near the station at our destination, and walked up the hill to the palace with time to spare before opening time. We duly admired all the gilded bits as we waited for the office to open. Cunning now, we already had tickets.

Armed with another audio tour, off we went. We started with a splendid private chapel, (see picture), before wandering through some small picture galleries until we came to the main rooms. Not only were there pictures on the walls, but every inch of the ceilings were painted, too. Louis 14th featured heavily in these paintings. Annie was not impressed by his vanity...

Here we are in a hall full of chandeliers that balls and receptions were held in, with the king on his throne down the far end. I would have been impressed!

The Royal bedchambers were just adjacent to this. Here's the king's bed curtains. I was really struck with how the monarchs had no privacy at all here.







We had a much-needed cuppa, and then ventured into the extensive gardens and grounds.







They were very formal near the palace, but woodier places led away from it - still liberally sprinkled with fountains with gilded statues, though.







Eventually we came to the canals, in the shape of a cross with arms a kilometre long, which Louis 14 had made so as to feel like he was in Venice, being punted about. Bravely, we decided to walk along near this to the Grand Triannon and and the Petit Triannon. This would be two kilometres along a splendid avenue. Eleanor began to baulk at this point, having already walked a fair way around palaces and gardens, but she was outvoted, poor mite. (We were a bit jealous of the people with bikes, but sniffed at the lazy people in golf-buggy type things, especially if they were not old or visibly disabled...)


Here is Annie near the Grand Trianon, an architectural confection of pink marble at the end of one of the canal arms. (I am sitting down with Eleanor slumped against me at this point. Annie is the keen one, wanting to see Marie Antoinette's little retreat from palace life in the Petit Triannon up the road - and her village where she played at being a peasant in the nicest way.)


Wincing at sore feet, up I got, and Eleanor trailed behind. The P.T. was very pretty and tasteful, and I could understand the queen's wanting to get away. The garden behind was rambling and lovely (although with a great whacking marble gazebo in it, presumably for an informal cuppa). The fake village had to be seen to be believed, though. No wonder the peasants revolted.

Having seen enough, we trudged back to the canal, where we found a restaurant ('La Flotille')to replenish our energy. What a relief! We mangaged to order in French. I should mention that mine is the better French, but because my hearing aid had pegged out on the train to Paris, poor old Wayne had been stuck with most of the transactions. I was very pleased that I was able to explain to some people in a queue to the loo here that I had left my sunglasses in the cubicle, and made myself understood. (Some red wine had helped loosen my tongue!)


So, back we walked through another bit of garden, and thence back to the station. We were very weary when we got home, and had an early night.