Paris Journal, 30 December 2005

30 December 2005
Friday

I never bothered to set the alarm last night, so wife and I slept in this morning until around 10:00. We got ourselves ready and we hopped the Metro again to Saint Michel and the RER C, this time bound for le château Versailles. The further southwest the train traveled, the murkier the weather looked, until we saw snow falling past the windows of our train car. Gare Versailles-Rive Gauche is the end of that particular line of the RER, so we knew we wouldn’t have any trouble knowing which train to board on our way back…or so we thought.

Once outside the station at Versailles we followed signs posted to guide the way to the chateau. We arrived at an intersection, looked in the direction to which the nearest sign pointed, and off in the mist was a grand palace. We walked toward it and, once across the last street and onto the chateau property, we were assaulted by icy snowflakes stinging our faces in a vicious wind. Fortunately there was a short line into the three-day-pass-holders entrance, so our agony was short-lived.Le Château Versailles, home of kings and queens until the common folk got fed up with them! (Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago)

The place was beautiful, as expected, and huge, as expected. After about our thirtieth royal chamber we got tired of seeing so much opulence and finery and sort of zombied our way through the last fourth of the self-guided tour. We stepped outside into the cold and decided, rather than find the next part of the property to which our passes earned entry, to just head back to our hotel.The Hall of Mirrors at Le Château Versailles. I don't know if it was the quality of the glass of the time, or if the chateau needs to replace its housekeeping service, but the mirrors were pretty scummy looking, and hard to see reflections with any detail. (Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago)



Near the end of the walking tour one is guided through this very long hallway adorned with statue after statue of famous historical figures who, I'm guessing, were French, or who made France their home for some stretch of time. In this photo, wife tried to see what was up his "skirts." I won't say anything other than what we saw up there was rock hard! (Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago)




We stepped out into the wind only to be pelted by small crystals of hail or sleet. Neither of us had thought to bring the umbrella, thinking that the forecast was for snow, if anything. So we hunched forward and trudged across the huge – and now very slippery – chateau cobblestones on our way back to the train station. It is about a ten-minute walk from the chateau, and in that time we became coated in a thin sheet of ice, as we discovered at the train station! We tried to make heads or tails of the schedule board, but it took us quite a while – long enough to miss a train – to figure out that we could board any train heading out, as all of them went through the center of Paris.

Back at the hotel I ran down to boulevard Saint Germain to purchase a couple of crepes from the kiosk kitty corner from our hotel. Actually speaking French, I ordered one strawberry crepe and one Nutella crepe, though, honestly, when I ordered the strawberry, or fraise, I thought I was ordering raspberry, which is actually framboise. I took them back to the room where wife and I shared them both.

Dinner tonight was at La Grenouille, which means “The Frog.” There was a frog motif, to be sure, and there were frog legs available on the menu, but the charm of the place was on the walls and ceiling: hats. After about an hour of sitting, drinking wine and eating our appetizers, the matron of the house placed a hat on my head. I didn’t see what it was until wife took a picture with our camera and showed me.I was somehow bestowed with the honor of "leader" of our group, either by our group or by the matron, so I was the first to receive a hat. I think it's becoming, don't you? It's my color, anyway. Note some of the other hats on the wall in the background. (Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago)



My embarrassment was shared shortly by the rest of the crowd which, tonight, consisted of wife and me, of course; Polish co-worker and family; and co-worker number one and family. Within a few minutes we were all wearing hats of various shapes and sizes, the best being that of a green, flowery type placed at wife's and my request on co-worker number one’s head. I think the best looking person with hat was wife.The matron of the house, whose name I neglected to get, was quite a character herself. She doesn't speak much English, but that was okay, as I speak very little French! About 2/3 of the way through dinner she came out in this getup to great shock and laughter from us and others in the restaurant. (Photo credit: Farrago)



My appetizer was the escargot, which I shared with wife, Polish co-worker's daughter, and co-worker number one's child number one, both of whom had never had it and whom I challenged to just try it. Wife let me have a couple of her frog legs. My main course was the Beef Bourguignon. It was okay. Wife had the lamb chops. I tasted hers and, of course, felt that I had again chosen the wrong thing for myself.

The first red wine was a mistake. It was an Alsatian wine that seemed anemic. The next bottle was another Margaux. It wasn’t as good as what we had at Georges last night, but it was still very good. I had the crème brulée for dessert while wife had the mousse au chocolat. Mine was typical (good), but wife's mousse was actually kind of grainy.

As we filed out the rest of the group was heading back toward The Great Canadian, but wife and I headed back to our hotel.


dassall! More later!