Wicked Good Living : Rest in Peace

Marie Antoinette started her day with hot chocolate, so we decided to do the same. We walked a few blocks to a patisserie, a French bakery. Hot chocolate and a couple of croissants to start the day. I know it’s kind of a running joke even though I’m deadly serious when I make these pronouncements, but, you guessed it, they were the best I’ve ever had. The only hot chocolate that I’ve ever had is Swiss Miss and I never eat croissants, so there it is.

We wanted to venture outside the city to Versailles, so we hopped on the Metro. It would take us about 40 minutes to get there. The Palace of Versailles is about 12 miles as the crow flies. We were treated to a French jig by a train performer with an accordion, which was a nice little delight. I suppose now is a good time to review the public transportation. The London Underground, or the Tube, is pretty nice. Train cars are modern, comfortable, and clean and navigating is fairly easy. The Paris Metro is wow. The trains are not only functional and modern, but they are also chic and beautiful. I enjoyed being on the trains in Paris because I was traveling in style. The Paris Metro is sexy.

We got off at the Versailles stop and walked about ten minutes to the palace. As soon as we walked through the gates, Amanda observed, “What the fuck? This is a city!” That fairly accurately captured my thoughts.

We did not have all day to explore Versailles. You need a whole day to see everything. We had only a couple of hours because we booked the Catacombs for 530, so we had to do the Versailles rapide tour. The place is so massive that you spend a week there.

To Reign Where the Weeds Have Been Pulled

Versailles was originally used as a hunting lodge for Louis VIII and became the extravagant palace that it is today under Louis VIX, the Sun King. The king’s court was moved from Paris to Versailles for about 100 years until Louis XVI was forced back to Paris when the French Revolution began. Versailles is spectacular, lavish, and the peak of opulence. As a museum, it makes sense and it is fascinating. It provides employment for French citizens and is a source of revenue for the French economy because it one of the busiest tourist attractions in the world with about 15 million visitors per year. As a personal residence, as it was for a series of Louises, it is gratuitous, superfluous, and totally ridiculous, but that’s how it was intended. No wonder the people of France revolted!

At the speed with which we moved through the palace we’re lucky that security didn’t stop us because we probably looked like thieves. Visitors stopped, lingered, took photos, and we breezed past all of them on the way to the Hall of Mirrors. It felt like all 15 million visitors were there the day that we chose to show up.

Approaching the Hall of a Mirrors had a dramatic build up because we passed so many rooms of old portraits that all seemed the same, like we were in a funhouse. We eventually arrived. The room was pretty spectacular. There’s something like 357 mirrors in the Hall of Mirrors. I have exactly zero mirrors in my bedroom, if you care. Amanda has a mirror in her closet bedroom for her. I don’t need one because Amanda is my mirror, if she approves then I don’t care what anyone else thinks. The mirrors were intended to flex the wealth of the monarchy. To demonstrate just how wealthy King Louis was. At the time, mirrors were a great luxury and rare.

The Treaty of Versailles that ended World War I was signed in the Hall of Mirrors. As impressive as the room is, let’s not sign anymore treaties there because the treaty was a rallying point for Hitler and the Nazis and led to World War II.

We dodged a downpour in a spectacular and impressive bathroom line that must have been a royal pain in the ass for Amanda to wait in. After that we went out to the gardens. It is the winter, so the gardens and fountains were not as grand as they could have been. We hustled straight for the trianons. We skipped the Grand Trianon and went directly to Marie Antoinette’s Petite Trianon, which seemed more interesting. The Grand Trianon was Louis’s residence away from the palace and the Petite was Marie Antoinette’s. We walked through the Petite Trianon.

After that, we really felt the time ticking. We had to escape the Versailles compound, which seemed like it could take days, then take the trains back into Paris. So, we tried, with no luck, to locate Marie Antoinette’s hamlet; her escape at Versailles, where she pretended to feel like a commoner. Pas de chance.

We ate our Marie Antoinette macarons, which we bought inside the palace, outside the Petite Trianon in the rain. It sounds kind of sad, but it was a vibe.

We took a selfie in front of the Grand Canal and bid adieu to Versailles. We left Versailles willingly. The same can’t be said for King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. In 1789, when the Revolution began, they were forced from Versailles back into Paris. They, and others, may have pretended they weren’t prisoners, but when they tried to escape there was no doubt after that. They were prisoners and the escape attempt s was a disaster and a failure. They would not live much longer. Louis had a trial, but it was more of a show trial because there was strong sentiment at the time against the monarchy. For the Revolution to live, the King must die.

The people that voted spoke loud and clear. King Louis XVI’s fate was sealed. Death without reservation. King Louis XVI’s final words as he approached the guillotine:

I die innocent, I pardon my enemies, and hope that my blood will be useful to the French, and that it will appease God’s anger…

Then he was cut off by drums, ordered by the general in charge.

Marie Antoinette would meet the same fate a few months later.

Petite Trianon

We arrived back in Paris with an hour to spare before the catacombs booking. It really made me feel guilty about not looking around for that Hamlet more. It was raining and we had a long journey back, so I forgave myself, eventually. We sat at a cafe and had wine and cheese. Obviously. I got a really cute photo of Amanda.

We queued up for the Paris Catacombs and entered at 530. The catacombs are stacks and stacks of bones under the city. Hundreds of years worth of bones. More human bones than you’ve ever seen. In order to create the grand boulevards and modernize the city with underground metros and install sewage systems, old graveyards had to be dispatched and them bones had to go somewhere.

When you enter, after security, you descend over 200 steps on a spiral staircase. A death spiral, if you will. It was dizzying. Amanda said she was feeling nauseous. When we reached the bottom the air was a little heavier and more moist, like a cave. That’s exactly what it was, a cave filled with bones. It was an atmosphere for sure.

The Temple of the Equal. Whether you were the wealthiest aristocrat or the commoner who cleaned the chamber pots, down there all the bones looked the same and lay side by side, unidentified. There are no names in the city of bones.

We walked through long tunnels. The gravel underfoot makes it sound like bones crunching with every step. When I first saw the bones, it was impactful. Stunning. Because there are so many bones. I’ve probably seen human bones in a museum, but I’ve never seen anything like this. There are bones stacked about five and a half feet high and as far back as I could see. They all looked like they’d been carefully, respectfully placed. The mood down there is solemn. It is a graveyard. All the bones are from humans.They lived and died then had to sacrifice their eternal rest by having their remains disturbed and relocated. Suffering in life. Suffering in death. The bones must be weary, and now it seems that they will finally be able to rest.