Domestic Adventures, Part 2: Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, etc.

On Saturday we woke up earlier than any of our bodies would have liked, and the extra-France residents had their first experience with a curtainless shower. Meredith was still feeling pretty exhausted and opted to stay home for the first part of the day, and save her energy for the Eiffel Tower that night.

Mel and I took a few metro lines to the RER C and rode it all the way out to Versailles, which was a trip I hadn't taken before. Since we'd seen the Louvre just the day before, the whole trip felt like a big tour of Louis XIV's ego. The palace was, of course, beautiful and incredibly grandiose. It was also choked with people, and Mel and I were pretty constantly exclaiming over various photographic opportunities we might have had, were we given a shot that wasn't full of other tourists.

There was a photographic exhibition on display, celebrating the palace and its significance over the years. They had photos from pretty much the inception of the camera, to the signing of the treaty that ended World War I, all the way up to last year.

We had audioguides telling us about various aspects of the construction and the art, but they were sort of unsatisfying in their brevity. I wish we'd arranged to have an actual tour guide. I guess I'm nerdy that way. I think I most enjoyed the ceilings, in the end. I'm now contemplating hiring someone to paint a bunch of mythic scenes on my ceilings. Probably unlikely, huh?

The gardens were pretty in a stiff, planned way. There was less in the way of swirly plant designs than I was expecting, and more huge expanses of lake and promenade.

We got an exceptionally French sandwich on the way back to our train. The jambon cru kinda freaked Mel out by its texture, though she enjoyed that it was made on a baguette.

I bought some canelés on the way home, just so Meredith and Mel could try something from Bordeaux on the trip. Mel's cousin's stepson was home, so we gave one to him. He spoke a surprising amount of English for a boy of 8, but I talked to him a little in French. He was watching Alvin and the Chipmunks' live action movie, dubbed in French, which was kind of ridiculous. Another doctor came, to see the baby this time, who is 4 months old and who had a cold. The doctor was extraordinarily eccentric, handing his coat off to Mel and making grand speeches, forbidding anyone to talk until he was finished.

The good news was that Meredith was feeling much better. So much better, in fact, that she had gone for a walk and didn't come back for about another hour. We headed over to the Eiffel Tower, where we waited about an hour to get tickets and get to the first observation level, then another 45ish minutes to get to the top.

The wind was pretty miserable on the ground. It had been a really pleasant temperature, despite the intermittent rain-spitting, while the sun was out, but after sunset when the wind picked up, I was not a fan. It was a relief to finally get to the elevator, though the last fifteen minutes of the wait was even worse, as we were standing in a wind tunnel created by the tower.

The elevator is more like a cable car than an elevator, and sways a bit in the wind. I didn't find this alarming, but most people seem to.

The third level is, I think, the first observation deck. We tried to take the obligatory photos with little success, since the light was poor and the wind was discouraging.

The wait for the top story wasn't too long, but colder. The asshole Americans in front of us were writing their initials on the wall, and I remembered for the second time that day why Americans have such a terrible reputation abroad. I'd heard more American accents in Versailles than I had in a long time, and all of them were saying such stupid things that I felt ashamed.

We didn't stay too long at the very top, since we were all growing hungry. By this time it was about 11 p.m. and our pastry snack had worn off. We got some crepes on the way home, filled with nutella and bananas. It turned out to be Mel's first crepe, which was pretty incredible to me. We made some pasta at the apartment and talked for a while before going to bed.

The next morning we woke up confusedly. It turned out the time change had come, and affected the time my alarm went off, so Mel and I woke up, but Meredith, who was sleeping upstairs, didn't. So we left the house much later than we intended as a result of several misunderstandings. We headed to Musée d'Orsay, which I had been looking forward to, since it's one of those Paris things I hadn't yet done. The line to get in, however, was pretty ridiculous. Just as we were getting discouraged, we noticed a much smaller and nearly empty museum dedicated to the Legion of Honor and all manner of war medals, from France and abroad. It was really interesting and entirely unexpected. The man at the welcome desk continued to speak French to me and then to translate in English to my friends for the entire time. I'm not sure if he was just being nice since I'd started the conversation in French or if he didn't know I wasn't French (I'd prefer to think this last, but I find it kind of improbable). He gave me a French audioguide, about which I was pretty happy.

On leaving, we saw this little park, which was full of trees that had leaves. I was psyched. The first leaves I've seen this spring.

From there, we headed up to Montmartre. This church, St. Jean de Montmartre, was just outside of the metro stop we arrived at, so we went in. It turns out it was Palm Sunday (in my heathen state, I was unaware). It was newer than most everything in Paris, dedicated in 1905, with cool wooden floors and a lot of new perspectives on religious art in the stained glass windows and murals. Jesus enthroned in front of a lot of people dressed in early 20th century clothing, deco-ish designs, etc. I was glad we stumbled upon it.

We walked up the hill and ended up on the backside of Sacré Coeur, so that we avoided the stairs. We ended up winding through some of the less touristy streets (alleys, really) to get to the church. It was packed with people, since it was Palm Sunday. Masses were starting about every thirty minutes, and traffic, which usually circulates from the northwest door through the church, behind the altar, and out the southwest entrance, was entirely blocked on the south end of the church. There was mass confusion and when we finally got to the entrance, Meredith wasn't where we'd left her. We spent another twenty minutes trying to locate her in the crowd while I felt grateful to be part of the generation of mobile phones. Not having mobile phones is a pain in the ass, as it turns out.

I got this one forbidden photo of the interior before I saw the giant "no photos" sign. As giant Parisian churches go, I infinitely prefer Notre Dame in every way except for the view, which is pretty amazing and which can't really be captured on film.

On the last flight of stairs up to the church, we found a giant crowd of people sitting and watching a few breakdancers, whose crowd-stirring antics got a little old but who were mostly entertaining. I could tell there were often performers there by the guys walking around with 30-packs of Heineken, trying to sell them to the crowd.

There were these dudes sitting around with guitars, who were largely ignored. Everyone was watching the dancers, who were entirely obstructing traffic by standing in the street, even though most of the time they could have been standing just about anywhere. Only one of them was impressive -- he was doing this awkward thing were he stood on one hand and jumped up, changing hands, while simultaneously throwing his body weight the other direction. I didn't capture it very well. It was a feat of momentum control. He reminded me a lot of a dancing crab, though I couldn't really say why.

We got a coffee at a little cafe, and then headed back to the metro and the apartment. We met Mel's cousin and went out for dinner at a fondue restaurant nearby. I'd had the cheese variety of fondue, but not the meat-cooking kind, so that was a new experience. I've found that, since moving here, I can eat meat a lot rawer than I previously was able to -- or, can, until I see the blood left on the plate after it's cut. There's something about blood soaking into a baguette that's pretty unappetizing.

Still, Tara (Mel's cousin) and I talked a little bit about wine. I still don't know very much about it. I tend to walk into a store, pick something cheap, red, and from Bordeaux, and leave without really considering anything else. We had a nice conversation, and as the restaurant was closing, around 11:30, Tara and Meredith did the sensible thing and went back to go to sleep.

Mel and I stayed out for a drink, and came home sometime after two a.m., when I packed and went to sleep. I woke up at 5:45 and left at 6:20 to get over to the train station. I was back in Bordeaux at 11 a.m., and had time to take my bags home and get some lunch before I took the tram out to Pessac to go to my history lecture. This was largely a really painful experience, since I was really exhausted and the lecture was entirely about the growth of small towns and economics in France in the 18th century, which I find almost infinitely uninteresting, compared to the rest of the intrigue and sex and despicable practices of the Church we're normally talking about. Still, since I'd come home so early and created all that pain in the first place just so I could get to class, I went.

All in all, it was a really nice trip, and it was great to get to see Mel, as always.