Walking in the Footsteps of Queens

Wanderlust. Travel. Eating everything you can in the span of 3 weeks because you have the excuse of never trying it before.
This summer I got to run off to Europe for three weeks with my family before settling back into NYC life. We visited Paris and Portugal, and I took some photos and had some thoughts.


When our plane touched down I was exhausted (we were delayed and jet lag was already causing shenanigans) and excited. My mother grew up right outside of Paris, and even though my brother and I have grown up in the USA, we have spent a lot of time in France visiting family. Both New York and Paris have a kind of magical mythology because of their history and prevalence in culture (movies, books, facebook videos, etc.), and although big cities are often similar because of the multicultural people living and working inside them, to me, Paris is more refined. Sure, you are saying, it's in Europe. Don't they make everything there more gorgeous anyway? The short answer is yes. The long answer is this: I'm looking at France from the outside-in, and so no matter how many times I visit, the mythology will always be exciting. Buildings that Parisians shrug at, I will marvel at, and I can only assume that when some people come to my city, they feel the same. Paris is an old soul. She's seen a lot more than my scruffy NYC, and her bricks, sky, and pavement seem to reflect that. 



We only stayed for 2 days, which is obviously not enough time. It felt like we were racing back home to make sure the house was clean before impromptu guests came over. I can't wait for the day when I get to be in Paris for more than just a rest stop (we do this often so that we can see friends/family).  

We spent time walking around the 11th arrondissement, which is where we most often like to stay, and sought out a market. The tables outside were covered with old photographs, books, linens and tins, and inside there was a food market with different stalls selling fish, meat, pastries, and vegetables. I was struck with the thought that ended up becoming the theme of my trip: All of our things will end up in a proverbial flea market; no one is remembered forever. More on that existential crisis later. 

 




We bought some Marx and some Vlad, and stopped in a cafe for some highly caffeinated thé à la menthe to get rid of the sleepiness we were continually shaking off.

We also visited Shakespeare and Company. (Read: I dragged my family to Shakespeare and Company). I dream about this bookstore. On the water across from Ile de la Cité and Notre Dame, one would expect an English bookstore to feel like a tourist trap. (Maybe it is, and if so I am TRAPPED). Books are shelved on every possible surface, including the undersides of stairs. Around each corner is another joy: a resident writer typing quiet words on a type writer, soft notes coming from a slightly-off piano, or a comfortable day bed to read your newest discoveries. It's a living, breathing place with an incredible history, and I love visiting dearly.

 

Speaking of history, (How about that transition?) our second Parisian day was spent in Versailles: the castle, grounds, and museum that housed French kings and queens, as well as their parties, rebellions, etc. Honestly, I watched Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, which was shot on the grounds, and comments on how privilege of the upper class caused distance from reality and eventually their downfall (sound familiar?). I fell in love with the shots in the movie, and after I did some more research on the restoration, I wanted to see the decadence for myself.

If you read any article about Versailles, it will suggest that in order to beat the crowds, you should arrive early, buy your ticket before you arrive, and work from the outside of the grounds in, so that you hit the castle later. We cleared our schedule for the day and arrived fairly early, armed with good walking shoes, sunscreen, and water (which are a must).  I would also suggest bringing a picnic so that you can spread out on the grass instead of dining in an expensive restaurant on the premises.
Once we passed through security we headed to the castle first, based on a museum guide's recommendation.

The Chateâu wasn't worth going to for us. If I went back, I would skip it entirely. We couldn't see any of the rooms we were entering clearly because of the throngs of people meandering through, and all of the pictures I took had to be angled strangely to avoid the tops of people's heads. (The photos below took a long time to capture). The pictures painted Versailles as a mysterious, intimate and quiet, but our first hours were anything but.

 



 
The day quickly got better when we headed into the gardens, and after some exploration rented bikes (yes you should pay the extra euros for the bike lock). We rode down and around the gardens. I eventually gave up trying to follow the paths and pedaled down dirt roads, behind attractions, and in random directions, not giving a lot of thought to where I was heading. The breeze was cool, my skirt was billowing behind me, and soon I found myself surrounded by green. 


We docked our bikes to wander through Petite Trianon and came upon the Hameau du Reine, which was Marie Antoinette's hamlet, complete with a (still) working farm. 


The farm and group of Hameau houses were built in the English style of the time, which gave the whole area a more rustic, relaxed vibe. 





I wandered through the gardens and over bridges, admiring the fish, flowers, and vegetables. Here was the Versailles I had been dreaming of: charming, quiet, with just a few smatterings of tourists. I finally felt like I was walking in the footsteps of Queens, and seeing their world as they had laid it out. 

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