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Paris is a combination of vast, intimate streets and squares. This combination is one of the secrets of its perenial charm. For the first-time visitor with only a few hours or days at his disposal, it is adviseable to first take a glimpse of Paris via one of the many tours available. This is what I did on my first day in Paris. After having completed that first tour, which lasted four hours, I followed advice from several friends and procured a 'Plan of Paris', which shows every boulevard, street and 'place', neighborhood by neighborhood.
Some of the outstanding places and monuments I have either just 'seen' or visited, including some museums and parks are listed below.
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Planned by Napoleon to honor his victorious army, it contains some magnificient sculpture, most notably 'The Marseillaise', by Rude, on the right facade of the arch, as you face it from the Champs Elysees. A perpetual light to France's Unknown Soldier burns under this great architectural symbol of French glory. It was impossible for me to take the elevator to the top to view an interesting exhibition of the history of the Arc and a splendid view of Paris because, as most other points of interest and museums in Paris, it was closed to visitors on Tuesday! However, I did manage to see a similar fantastic view of Paris the next day, from the top of the Eifel Tower.
Paris, or anywhere else for that matter. Indeed, when I emerged from the Metro station, facing the Arc, I asked a Frenchman who was standing by how I could get to the Arc as there was so much traffic,, it seemed impossible for me to make it across the eight-lane full of swirving and careening cars swishing around the Place de l'Etoile. He then told me that the best way to get there was to dash across whenever I could see an opening and that the 'gendarme' who was across the street would then help me by halting the traffic just enough to let me make it across the boulevard.
I immediately thought to myself 'my God, those Frenchmen are crazy; why don't they build a tunnel or something to help tourists across'. I looked across the street and, sure enough, there was a gendarme there, appearing for all I cared to be there just for that purpose: to help stranded tourist cross the boulevard.
So, at the first slight opening in the flow of traffic I entered in my crazy journey. Immediately, I could hear brake squeals and various profanities hurled at me by mad frenchmen drivers attempting to either run me over or circling around me. At the same time I could see that gendarme gesticulating like a madman, trying to tell me I supposed to get back to where I came from but it was too late... I was already right in the middle of the mess and I had to keep going!
I have to hand it to him: he was not crazy! Not one did he venture into the boulevard! But he did get thhat whistle going though! Oh did he ever. All that time, drivers were yelling at me, pointing fists, you name it, I got it. After what seemed an eternity, I miraculously made it safely, if somewhat shaken, to the other side where I received one of the worst 'talk to' by the 'unfriendly' gendarme. His first words were "Mais vous tes fou ou quoi? Ca n'va pas, non?" It took a little while for me to regain some of my breath, and composure, needless to say after which I explained to him that I had asked for directions as to how to get to the 'Arc' and had been told by a 'bon samaritain' that I had to 'fight' the traffic and that he, the kind gendarme, would 'clear' the way for me.
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I suppose he figured that I had to tell the truth because it was too crazy to have improvised that excuse. It was then that he told me that there was an underground passage for pedestrians. As a matter of fact, the entrane had been located but some thirty feet or so from where I had embarked on my perilous journey!
I guess he was quite ready to cite me for jaywalking and perhaps ten other 'charges' but he must have figured that I had had enough exitement for the day and, after giving me a blast, he sort of became more friendly. When I told him I was Canadian (which he had guessed by himself, the good man), and from Montreal, he asked me if I knew his cousin who had lived there for a few years. He seemed disappointed when I told him that I did not, unfortunately, had had the pleasure of meeting him!
We shot the breeze for a few more minutes then I went on with my visit of the Arc and the surrounding grounds. He must have thought I was a 'special case' because he never let me out of his sight for a moment. Even when I went around a corner, I looked back and there he was... At least, there was one 'official' witness to my next 'adventure'.
Yep! I was to remember the Arc the Triomphe for another reason, as if nearly getting killed while getting there was not enough. I was so awed by the immensity of the place, I kept looking up the ceiling of the Arc, admiring the fine sculptural works, mouth opened wide... in awe. Then, it happened. One of the permanent residents let go a five-hundred pounder from up high in the Arc and made a bull's-eye hit, right through that open mouth.... Yurk!
I still can see that gendarme laughing his head right off! Luckily he was the only 'eye-witness' to my humiliating incident but that was enough. Damn pigeons! And on with the visit...
At the other end of the Champs Elysees is the Place de la Concorde, often touted as the most beautiful square in the world, and, having seen it, I believe it. There is nothing in its present proportions to suggest that it was once the notorious Place de la Guillotine, splashed with the blood of Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette , Lavoisier and some 1340 other blood gushers of the French Revolution. (Amazing what you learn from tourist guides!)
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Standing at the Champs-Elysees entrance to the Place, one is flanked by the beautiful Chevaux de Marly, sculptured horses by Guillaume Couston (never met the man, but he was 'good'). In the center of the Place is the Obelisk of Luxor, a 200-ton stone from Egypt. It was erected here in 1836.
There was a sign there staying that you could reach the obelisk at the 'risk of your life' because of the highly nervous traffic but, although the brush with death would have been rewarded by a series of magnificient urban perspectives, I passed the offer. Not after having just gone through the Arc de Triomphe's near catastrophy! One learns from mistakes, doesn't one?
With my back to the Champs Elysees, and facing the Tuileries Gardens, I had a long vista, framed by some winged horses down through the little Arc du Caroussel right up to the Louvre! On my left, the Rue Royale, leading to the classic Eglise de la Madeleine (of which we have an oil painting at home) is framed by two 18th century buildings designed by Gabriel (whoever he was!). The one on the right is the Ministere de la Marine. Its western twin houses the Automobile Club of France and the famous Hotel Crillon.
I visited the Automobile Club and obtained a huge amount of guides, pamplets, maps. You name it, I got it. For a while, I thought I had cleaned them right out of freebies! As a matter of fact, I had so many of them that I had to discard the majority of the pamphlets in the nearest trash can. As I travelled light, with only one flight bag, it was either buy anoter suitcase or dump them. I therefore had no choice.
The perspective from here toward the Seine is equally impressive, leading the eye across the Pont de la Concorde to the Palais Bourbon, the French National Assembly. The Place de la Concorde is further embellished by two splendid bronze fountains and eight rather formidable stone females symbolyzing the cities of Nantes,Brest, Rouen, Lille, Strasbourg, Lyon, Marseilles and Bordeaux. Ouf..... what a name dropper, that one!
I had read in one of the many tourist brochures I had just acquired from the AAA that even if one had only one night to spend in Paris that one was not to miss seeing the square illuminated. I returned that night and, seeing first hand, had to agree with the familiar opinion that indeed, Paris is the most beautiful city in the world! This is even more so now that many of the old buildings surrounding the square have been restored to appear once more in their original freshness.
The tourist brochures highly recommend to first approach the Ile de la Cite via the Pont Neuf but my first visit to the Ile de la Cite was via the Metro, late on my first night in Paris. I had always anticipated my first look at the Notre Dame Cathedral, wondering how I would 'feel' but as it turned out, my first view of Notre Dame was quite a shock, a happy shock mind you, as I had not a clue then that I was even near the cathedral.
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I had taken the Metro and exited at a station named Ile de la Cite. I then started walking, turning here and turning there, just looking. Then, rounding one more corner... there it was: Notre Dame! I just stood there, transfixed, awed... but mouth shut! (remember the pigeons).
Who hasn't read "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", by Victor Hugo?I could hardly beleive it. There I was. I could almost feel the hunchback watching me from his preferred spot, high up in the left spire. The cathedral was begun in 1163 and completed in 1345. No big hurry in those days, no siree, but they built to last! It was badly damaged during the revolution, restored in the 19th century and is one of the most beautifully proportioned of cathedrals, large enough to accommodate 9000 persons! Again, I would have liked to climb to the tower but it was closed at night. When I did return for a second visit, it was also closed, it being Tuesday!
I did manage however to visit the interior of the cathedral. As the ad on TV says so well.... awsome! When I did return for a second visit, I followed the advice given in the brochure and approached the island from the Pont Neuf. Funny thing however is the fact that the Pont Neuf is the 'oldest' bridge in Paris. It dates back to 1604! Boy! Don't you learn things when you travel. Awesome.
At the Statue of Henry IV, you turn left (watch for those mad drivers) into the Place Dauphine, walk around the massive Palais de Justice and into the court where stands the Sainte Chapelle, a real Gothic jewel. The Sainte Chapelle was built by Saint Louis to house the true crown of thorns and other holy relics and it was consecrated in 1248.
The most notable aspect of the Sainte Chapelle is the fact that it appears to have no walls. Its a marvel of stone lacework and ancient stained glass and is one of the most impressive sights in Paris. A short walk from here brings one to the Cathedral of Notre Dame.
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A walk through the cathedral park and across the foot bridge to the Ile Saint-Louis brings us to a point from which one has superb views of the Seine and the apse of Notre Dame. From here, it also is just a step over to the Rive Gauche and the Latin Quarter. It was while touring the Latin Quarter that I learned why it was so called. It was because the students of the Sorbonne spoke and heard lectures in Latin here during the Middle Ages. So much for history.
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Saint-Germain-des-Prés which was at onetime the citadel of Paris' intellectual life is now suffering from anemia. Invaded for years by foreigners who only think of rubbing shoulders with the intelligentia on the terraces of the Café de Flore and the Deux Magots (where Lenin and Hemingway were often holding court) it is now but a pale reflection of its former glory..
The area is still stuffed though with expensive antique shops, art galleries and bookstores, but the artists and writers who used to animate the cafes and bars have migrated to less expensive haunts. But this old romantic neighborhood still has many permanent charms, such as the massive Romanesque bell tower of Saint-Germain des Prés which has the honour of being one of the oldest 'clochers' in France, dating back to the earlies 1000's. Still, the quiet streets in the immediate vicinity are worth a ramble, especially the neat little Place Furstenberg
Nearby is a Jesuit masterpiece , the Church of the Invalides, with its golden dome, the most beautiful in Paris and under which of course lies the sarcophage of Napoleon Bonaparte. I then took a thirty minute tour of the new Unesco building on the nearby Place de Fontenoy. For two francs, it was a bargain.
To really return to the past, there are two places on the Right Bank that are a must to visit. The first is the Palais- Royal which Richelieu built opposite Le Louvre. One can enter the palace garden either from the Rue Montpensier or the Rue de Beaujolais. I entered via the Rue de Beaujolais, not because I am a wine lover but because this is the street I was on! The garden has several arcaded shops and oozes an oasis- like tranquility, right in the heart of bustling, modern Paris.
The famous Comedie Francaise has its historic headquarters in the Palais Royal. The guides recommend that, if one has the time, one should not miss a performance in the jewelbox Salle Richelieu. I had the time but, alas, not the money to do so.Therefore, I reluctantly passed... In any case, I beleive that my 'checkered suit' of vivid colours would have been too noticeable in that palace. More on the 'checkered suit' and the impression it left all over Europe, in another chapter!
The second place worthy of a visit is the oldest monumental square in Paris, the Place des Vosges. All of the houses surrounding the Square blend together and were built of rose-colored brick under the direction of Henry IV himself in the early 17th century. Once the center of fashion, royal tournaments and the like, this proportioned square keeps its Renaissance beauty today.
The nearby Les Halles, once the home of the famous central market is becoming something of a new Saint-Germain des Pres, full of kooky shops, far-out restaurants and modern youth.
Just as famous as the Invalides, though far less esthetic, is the dome of that celebrated 'white-elephant' of the late 19th Century, the Basilica of Sacre-Coeur, which dominates all of Paris from the heights of Montparnasse. This is one of the most popular attraction of the city. The ascent into the dome of Sacre Coeur gives one several vertiginous eyefuls of the huge interior of the basilica but one is rewarded for the dizzy climb by a thirty-mile view over Paris and its environs from the top. Short of a balloon flight. this is the best way to see Paris.
Nearby is the Place du Tertre. It and the adjacent narrow streets, full of painters and artists selling their work reminds one of the Old Quarter in Quebec City..
The only way to see the gilded, grandiose, white, blue, pink, red and green marble interior of this immense baroque palace is by attending a performance of the opera or ballet.. Needless to say, I did not see the gilded, grandiose, white, blue, pink, red and green marble interior of this immense baroque palace! Pity! I could just see it... walking into that place with my checkered suit. No way....
Next to the Notre Dame Cathedral on my 'must visit' list was the Eiffel Tower! Funny to learn that the parisians hated the tower so much when it was first erected in 1889 that there was talk of tearing it down.. During the World War Two occupation of Paris, the Germans gave serious thought about requisitioning its 12,000 sections of metal and its 2,500,000 rivets, but, they thought better of it,, perhaps because so many germans, like good tourists, enjoyed climbing it.
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It was not because Hitler wanted to save that near-sacred monument that he preserved it, far from it. As clearly exposed by Lapierre and Collins in their book 'Is Paris Burning', Hitler had indeed ordered the destruction of the Eiffel Tower, along with 'all' of Paris' monuments, places, and bridges toward the close of the war. That's history, my friend.
It costs only a few francs by elevator to the first étage' and a little more if one goes higher. 'One' went higher indeed; after all, there is but one Eiffel Tower, non? The trip to the top is worth every franc! Just fantastic. On the second level, there is a restaurant where I, just like the last of the big spenders, indulged in an ice cream cone and a coke! Not so much for the ice cream but just so I would not be 'expelled' by the gendarme patrolling the area.
Being a great student of anything touching the Second World War, it was only natural that I would seek out the Hotel Meurice, especially after having read and re-read 'Is Paris Burning' by Lapierre and Collins. Indeed, the Hotel Meurice, situated half-way between the Ritz and the Crillon had been the headquarter of the Gross Paris Kommandant during the occupation and it was from there that General Choltitz had surrendered at the liberation of Paris. Anyone who has read that work cannot stand in front of the Meurice and remain untouched.
Having read for the second time that book just a few days before leaving on this trip, I could recall several episodes while sitting on a bench near the entrance of the Meurice. What a feeling when one thinks that, during the last days of the occupation, all bridges, monuments, places of interest within Paris had been mined by thousands of pounds of explosives and that only the 'go-ahead' by Choltitz was required to see all of Paris blown to bits!
As a sideline to history, suffice it to say that Choltitz had been personally selected by Hitler as Gross Kommandant of all Paris with the simple purpose of destroying it. He came with good recommendations, being the general who had cold- bloodiedly ordered the total destruction of Sebastopol, earlier on during the war. He also had been responsible for the near total destruction of the center of Rotterdam in June of 1940. But, luckily for the Parisians, and the world, he had second thoughts and finally, said 'nyet' to Adolf. Yes, sitting there on the bench brought back many memories, albeit 'book' memories.
On my way to the Hotel Meurice, I just had to make a swing into the famous Hotel Ritz, if only for a look-see. It is said that the Ritz is one of the few great hotels in the world where the number of its staff is greater than the number of its guests. I believe it! I would have liked to stay longer enjoying the beauty and splendor of its 'grand foyer' but, alas, I chickened out. Perhaps it was the attention paid to my inordinate checkered suit, I don't know. But somehow, I had the distinct feeling that my suit and I did not belong in that place.
A word of advice for anyone wishing to book an hotel room in Paris, or most anywhere else in Europe for that matter: to avoid unpleasant surprises, always confirm the room price when you register at a hotel. The basic reason for that is the fact that most hotels now charge what they call 'prix forfaitaire', which includes room, breakfast, service charges, and taxes. If a hotel simply quotes the room rate alone, expect to pay at least an additional thirty percent more for the 'extras' that are otherwise covered by the 'prix forfaitaire'.
Should I have been aware of that fact prior to my landing in Paris, I perhaps would not have gone through my bad experience as I did at the Hotel du Nord. Indeed, having already stayed at the Hotel du Nord on my first two nights in Paris, at what I then beleive were reasonable rates ( francs, all included), I once again selected that hotel upon returning from Amsterdam.
As I had then arrived at the Gare du Nord around midnight and, wishing to 'crash out' as soon as possible, I walked across the street and booked in for another night of lodging. I was then told the room was ..... francs and, although a little more expensive than during my first stay, I accepted.
Unfortuantely, the price quoted was not the 'prix forfaitaire' but merely the regular price for the room, with no frills. I was therefore a little surprised and somewhat angered the following morning when presented the bill. Indeed, the bill amounted to quite a few more francs than expected as it included the items normally included under the 'prix forfaitaire'.
Having seen all that I wanted to see of Paris and, helped by the ever increasing costs of hotel rooms, it was then that I decided to go to Vienna. In addition to giving me the occasion to visit that old city the next day, it would have the advantage of saving one more night of lodging in Paris as I intended to 'sleep tight' aboard the train, on my way to Vienna. I therefore spent the day visiting Versailles and, at 22:30 hrs, boarded the train for Vienna.
It is said that Paris boasts over 8000 restaurants. This is to say that if one ate out two meals a day, going to a different place each time, it would take one over 13 years to get through them all. A nice piece of statistics. Almost all the restaurants in Paris have their bill of fare plainly posted outside so that you can study their offerings and calculate the price of a meal.
Rest assured that any which do not post their menus in this manner are very expensive. One such restaurant is the Tour d'Argent located on the Quai de la Tournelle. It offers a wonderful view of Notre Dame. The Tour d'Argent is located on a roof but, its prices are higher still! A nice place to stay away from unless you just on the big Lotto!
If you have just lucked in at the Loto, you might try Maxim on Rue Royale. This joint, in turn-of-the-century decor, has a teribly chic clientele, a sort of 'place to be seen'. The average Maxim's patron pays more attention to his fellow boarders than to his plate. After having your 'noisettes d'agneau Edouard VII' and 'crepes joyeuse Sophie', you must then pay the bill without batting an eyelash, or else, you lose points. But then, having just won at the lotery, who gives a hoot, oui?
As there was no big winner of lotery among my forebears, I selected a restaurant which came to me highly recommended by a local hobo I had met near the Carrefour de l'Odeon. It was called the Brasserie du Morvan (no, not Morveux) and, this tongue-in-cheek pastiche of La Belle Epoque serves a quick meal in a somewhat noisy setting. If you wish to partake of your meal in a quiet, subdued atmosphere, ask the 'Garcon' to sit you at a table located as far away from the slot machines as possible.
The quickest and I hasten to add the cheapest way of visiting Paris (short of walking) is by Metro. It is quite easy to use as every station has a big map showing all the lines and stations and you can make as many transfers as you want on a single ticket. With a copy of the Plan of Paris in one's pockets, using the Metro is then a cinch.
Just riding the metro itself is an experience. To begin with, it boasts two classes of travel: first and tourist. During the rush hour, (twenty-four hours a day in Paris, it seems), you may opt for tourist class if sitting on a rough, un-padded bench and being jostled around by millions of fellow travellers is your forte! As the 'tourist' cars are most of the time packed to capacity, it also is the perfect spot to be in to have your pockets picked of any valuable.
Most stations feature ambulants troubadours and artists of varied categories offering 'free' shows, some of dubious nature! I suppose that the double standard in the metro (first and second classes) must get on some frenchmen's nerves because in one of the stations, for example, a local artist gave us his own personal rendition of what 'he' thought about the system.
As soon as the wagon doors opened, he let us have it. It had to do with rich 'bourgeois' riding comfortably in 'Premiere' while members of the 'petit peuple' such as he had to contend with roughing it on the hard benches of the 'tourist' cars, if they could afford a ticket at all. It made one very proud indeed to be riding 'en premiere'!
Of course, this did not affect me the least at the time because, although physically occupying a place 'en premiere' I was actually holding a ticket stating that, indeed, I should have been in the car behind, with the rest of the 'petit peuple'! Unfortunately, I did not know how the Paris Metro really operated.
When I had first boarded the metro, I had noticed that, although you had purchased a 'billet régulier', that is a cheaper ticket giving you access to the 'tourist' class, you could sit in a 'first class' car and no one seemed to care. The doors opened and you hopped in, and, voila! But, as I found out to my dismay, it was not to be. After having travelled in that fashion for ten trips or so, and never having been worried, I found my Waterloo on the run from the Hotel du Nord to the Ile de la Cite.
The train had just departed one of the stations situated near Place Pigalle when, to my horror and, I hasten to add, my consternation, I heard a man yell 'ticket, ticket... ticket'. I turned around and saw him, just in time, as he was admonishing some poor soul who had been caught without a first class ticket in his possession and was desperately trying to explain to the 'agent collecteur' that he had lost it since he had boarded the train, etc, etc. But to no avail.
The 'agent' informed him that he had to pay the 'prix forfaitaire', whatever that meant, and, he didn't look all that simpathetic either. I was then hoping that the unfortunate man who had been caught would stall the agent long enough for the train to reach the next station, where I could make an honorable escape. But, no. That agent was only two seats behind me and, short of jumping off the window, I was grilled.
I then hit on a flash of an idea. It occurred to me that I obviously was taken by all onboard as a real tourist, what with my checkered, one-of-a-kind-in-Europe suit. I quickly removed my canadian flag lapel pin, replaced it with an american flag lapel pin (why give a bad reputation to canadians, said I to myself) and, looking and acting like a real, 'unilingual, bosterous, loud' american tourist, awaited my moment of truth. And indeed, it came sooner than expected.
The agent, coming up to my bench, made the standard call of 'ticket, ticket'. Playing with my camera and acting sort of stupid, I turned around to the man riding next to me and asked, in 'very fast' english what all this was all about.
There was a lot of 'what does he want' and 'what is the matter with him,... I've got my ticket' jibbery yacking. And, of course, all in english. It is said that if you put fifty frenchmen together you have fifty arguments. I found this to be true as I listened to the brouhaha going on around me. I heard many comments, some in my favor, some not. But most of the comments had to do with the 'maudits touristes americains' trying to ride for free en 'premiere'.
Lucky for me that I had switched my 'flag of allegiance' from Canadian to American. It was only a sweet revenge on the american tourists who, knowing how much they are liked and admired in most of Europe, wear a ''' Canadian ''' flag on their lapels instead of an american flag.
The poor agent seemed a little lost for words by then and, besides, we had reached the next station. I made my exit, along with the man who had been sitting next to me and, as the train was again departing toward the next station, I turned to the man and said, casually, and in french "Pardon monsieur, vous avez l'heure?". Observing his reaction, I didn't stick around for an applause and ushered myself out of 'that' particular station (and, situation).
One of the highlights of any visit to Paris must be the visit of the famous 'sewers' of Paris. It took me a long while to find out from the locals where I had to go to 'enter' the sewers. No one seemed to know. For the record, the place to go is at the statue representing the city of Lille, in the Place de la Concorde. The tours start from that point. For those with an equally morbid desire to visit 'odd' places, there is also the excursion to the Gallo Roman Catacombs, under the Left Bank. To join the tour, one must meet at 2 Place Denfert- Rochereau on the first Saturday of the month. Naturally, as today was not the first Saturday of the month... I missed on that one too. Pity.
The one sad part of having but a few days to visit Paris and the surrounding sights is the fact that one would require over two months to be able to enjoy the visit to any degree of satisfaction. One of the sights where one could spend days galloping around is Versailles. In spite of the tight schedule I was operating under, I did manage to spend some five hours in Versailles and, I hasten to add, the time was well spent.
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The main chateau and its fabulous gardens, created over a fifty year period by no one else but Louis XIV himself is the climax of French architecture indeed. I had the chance to visit the huge gilded reeption rooms, the royal chapel and the celebrated Galerie des Glaces (Hall of Mirrors) where, incidently, the Treaty of Versailles ending World War I was signed in 1919.
To think that to own a personal mirror some ten inches square was a luxury during the reign of Louis XIV gives an added dimension when one visits the Hall of Mirrors. It is a huge hall, completely composed of enormous mirrors on both sides.
I also visited the 'petits appartements' where the king and the queen actually lived and also, the sumptuously decorated little opera house. Unfortunately, the palace gardens were not in bloom at this early time of the year. It was easy however to imagine what the gardens would look like when all the flowers were in full bloom and the fountains were operating. In any case, the gardens cover over 250 acres and given my tight schedule, it would thus have been impossible to visit them.
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I heard a good one about those gardens. I can't say whether the story is true or not... after all, Louis isn't around anymore to validitate the story but here goes. It would appear that given the number of fountains of all sorts in the days of old Louis, the water pressure presented some problems. As the story has it, whenever Louis took one of his walks in the garden, a huge staff was busy running slightly ahead of him, switching fountains on. When Louis had passed, you guessed it... they shut them off. Then the pattern repeated itself when Louis retraced his 'trajet'. True or not, the least one can say about all this is that it kept the unemployment level low. Just one of those little stories to brighten one's day.
A small incident occured during my visit which, I am sure, made me quite unpopular with one of the chateau's guide. I had tagged along a tour which included several young students. Throughout the Chateau, one sees the symbol of a sun displayed all over. The guide was asking the young students if anyone knew why there were so many 'suns' decorating almost every apartment and public halls throughout the chateau.
No one seemed to know and, to be honest, before anyone had a chance to answer the good guide, I blurted out "Because Louis XIV was the 'Roi Soleil' ... or, 'the Sun King'". There I was, 'tout fier de moi' as they say and I was totally prepared to receive the Légion d'Honneur' for such a display of knowledge. Instead of 'congratulating' me, the guide gave me a look which, should it have been a bullet would surely have killed me on the spot. The man was not impressed at all. Given the glacial atmosphere, I then decided to loiter around and catch the next tour which was right behind us. I felt that was the right thing to do.
It is highly recommended to join a guided tour to visit this fabulous chateau if only to hear all the oddities uttered by the guides. They do have many stories to tell about Versailles. After all, hasn't someone once said... "Si Versailles m'etait conté". For example, when one visits the 'Petit Trianon', also located in Versailles, one hears from the guide that the little palace was a favorite of Marie Antoinette who preferred it to the overcrowded and overwhelming atmosphere of the main chateau. Nearby the 'Petit Trianon' is her model village, 'le petit hameau' where she, and her companions, played at being shepherdlesses among flocks of perfumed sheeps. Imagine listening to stories like that; it is worth the admission price!
If only for the same reason cited above, (to hear good stories), a visit to Fontainebleau, located south of Paris, is a must. The Chateau of Fontainebleau is a history of France in stone. Begun in the 12th century by Louis VII it was actually reformed by Francois I who imported Rosso from Italy to direct an army of decorators employed to make the place suitable for his mistress, a girl by the name of Duchesse d'Etampes. He also bought the famous Mona Lisa to hang in one of the rooms!
His successor, Henry II ornamented the whole palace with his initial interlaced with D for Diane de Poitiers who then happened to be his 'lady love' as the French call it. During that time, his wife, the queen, Catherine de Medicis just gnashed her teeth with rage. The gardens were also designed by Le Notre, the same fellow who had designed the gardens of Versailles under Louis XIV (he must have been a busy architect indeed).
Shortly thereafter, Fontainebleau declined to the status of a royal hunting lodge. Napoleon rehabilitated the place , used it as a prison when he incarcerated Pope Pius VII, lived here himself for a while, first with Josephine and then with his second wife, Marie Louise of Austria, and bade his farewell here in the Cour des Adieux before he was escorted out to Elba.
The nicest story has to do with the fabulous Chateau of Vaux- le-Vicomte, built for the young Louis XIV's minister of finance. As the story goes, when the chateau was finished in 1661, Fouquet gave a banquet for his king which was so sumptuous that Louis, full of rage at being outshone, imprisoned Fouquet, commandeered his artists, confiscated his wealth and proceeded to build Versailles. The morale of all this I presume is that, when inviting your boss for lunch, serve him hot-dogs!