Paris: Day 4

We were out the door before sunrise on Friday -- lightposts throwing shadows.

We grabbed a train and headed out to Versailles, a 40-minute ride.

Walking through the suburb of Versailles toward the palace

Greetings from Louis.

Yes, it is every bit as ornate as you could imagine, and then some.

You walk into the chateau that housed the king and his court nearly 300 years ago, wandering through rooms adorned with gold and mirrors, pillars and massive murals devoted to the greatness of the royals.

The Royal Chapel, where the king had Mass.

And statues, statues everywhere.

Another room, another ceiling

Hall of Mirrors

Looking outside at the gardens

A room devoted to art glorifying the great victories of France

But my advice would be to skip the 720,000-square-foot chateau -- or go when it isn't the high season -- and head straight for the gardens, which comprise nearly 2,000 acres.

We walked ... and walked ... mostly pretty stunned at the grandeur of it all, the over-the-topness.

When you're in the depths of the gardens at Versailles, they've got you ... especially when it's someone like me who's hungry and whose husband really doesn't want to deal with a cranky woman.

Good thing lunch was pretty darn good, if pricey.

Walking toward the domain of Marie-Antoinette

Louis XIV had the Grand Trianon -- basically, a smaller estate within the grounds of Versailles -- built for retreats. A retreat within a palace. Good Lord. It takes about 25 minutes to walk to it from the chateau (unless you're us and you stop for a glass of wine to alleviate the edge the chateau crowds gave you and a little lunch).

The rear of the Grand Trianon

 Pink freakin' marble.

"Oh, good -- it's been at least an hour since we've seen some art."

Next, the Petite Trianon, another, smaller chateau on the grounds. Again, you could fit my house in one of these rooms. This was the exclusive realm of Marie-Antoinette when she became queen, so she could escape her husband and court.

Apparently France didn't grow giants until the 19th century or so

Royal toilet

Leaving Petite Trianon

The vast gardens extend even past the two Trianons, upon which Marie-Antoinette built all sorts of toys. Like statues and pavilions and gardens and theaters and this, the Temple of Love:

So you're Marie-Antoinette, and you're a bored royal who misses her homeland -- Austria -- and longs to live the life of a peasant. Well, you know, except for that whole work-like-a-dog thing and the no-money thing. What do you do? You build your own hamlet.

 With chickens and roosters and ducks and geese and cows and gardens -- you name it.

I'll keep my head, thanks.

Back in Paris ...

One amazing beer.

We're back in the Latin Quarter and we cannot decide what to eat. Again. And the next night was our New Year's Eve dinner, which wasn't going to be cheap. So we let ourselves be called into some cheap Greek fast-food joint, where we discovered the cutest little girl, her dad and his friends, and we were all chatting, especially with a woman who spoke some English, a little more French, a little of another couple of languages, but mostly something ... else, I can't remember.

We all leave, and our new friend excitedly asks us to take a walk and enjoy the night, and Rich is ready to drink -- but we discover she's Muslim, so no drinking stops.

But what was great about it was that the four of us who were left at the end of the walk -- from three countries, none of which are France, all learning about each other's jobs and cultures -- were enjoying each other's company, trying to communicate, all knowing that this is what traveling is about. That the world is not meant to be islands of individuality, but a global network of communication and mutual respect. We went our separate ways, sharing info so we could reconnect on Facebook.

While I'd lost my drinking "edge" -- Rich had not, and I was ready to call it a night -- we stopped at another place for champagne. It was clearly a favorite of local lesbian couples, very intimate and friendly, playing loud, cheesy pop that was a great mood-setter. Alas, we took too many pictures at Versailles and the camera was finally out of batteries, so no pics. But good memories.