Versailles and the Eiffel Tower

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Issy asks me to read her yesterday's blog before I publish it. I read the first sentence, which is "we have breakfast at the hotel". She tells me that I can't write this. She says that no one will be interested in where we have breakfast unless something significant happens. I delete the sentence. I decide not to read her any more, or she might tell me to delete the whole blog. Today nothing significant happens at breakfast, so I don't write anything about where we have it. Later I remember that it was raining at breakfast. I wonder if Issy would consider rain to be a significant enough event to warrant writing about.

This morning we've booked a tour to Versailles. We walk to the meeting point, which is in front of a cafe just around the corner from the hotel, where we meet an Indian couple waiting for the same tour. It's very close to the time the tour's supposed to start and we're seemingly the only people here. I compare notes with the Indians. Unlike our information sheet theirs says that if the tour is after 1st July they should go to another meeting point instead. They hadn't read that bit, a fact for which we're suddenly very grateful. Today is 9th August. I'm not very happy with the tour company. We quickly jump in a taxi, and arrive to find a large group of our fellow tourists waiting patiently for us to grace them with our presence.

Our train to Versailles stops at a station called Issy Val de Seine, and then another one that's just called Issy. My beloved seems quite pleased to learn that at least two Paris stations have seemingly been named after her.

We arrive at Versailles station. Our guide leads us to the wrong end of the platform, so we need to turn around and walk back again. We might be in for a long day. If she can't find the right end of the station we're not sure how she's going to go guiding us through a massive palace.

Our guide's name is Katherine. She's Welsh, and she's been living in Paris studying French history for three years. She tells us that she graduated yesterday. She says that she's been a tour guide for four months now and this experience really helped her revise for her exams.

She tells us that the palace site was originally a large swamp, and Louis XIII, who ruled in the early 17th century, liked to come hunting here. He was happy to rough it, but his royal minders didn't think this was appropriate, so they built him a small lodge.

Louis XIII died young, and his son, Louis XIV, then came to the throne when he was only four years old. A lot of his countrymen weren't too enamoured with the idea of being ruled by a four year old, so there were numerous attempts on his life. His mother tried to protect him by getting him out of Paris as often as possible, usually to the hunting lodge. He was apparently quite a strange character, and was amongst other things totally paranoid. I'm not sure this is all that surprising given that people had been trying to kill him all his life. He was apparently also completely in love with himself. When he was in his twenties he decided to turn the hunting lodge into something much more elaborate, and he didn't hold back. The gardens took 20 years to build and cover an area of 800 hectares. They include 15 fountains, and a one and a half kilometre long 70 metre wide canal which he used to take visiting dignitaries on gondola rides. The extravagance of both the gardens and the palace itself were largely due to Louis wanting to show the French people and the rest of the world that he could do anything, and outdo anyone. He moved in here after it was finished, having previously lived at the Louvre in Paris. The palace needed to be very large, as his paranoia meant that he needed to be able to constantly keep a close eye on his entire household. His staff had to be on hand at all times to attend to his every need, including anticipating any potential future wishes. There was an orchestra on permanent standby in the garden on the off chance that he might decide to go for a stroll there. Water was in short supply so again staff were on standby to start the fountains in case he turned up unannounced. He was known as the Sun King due to his obsession with the sun and the sun god Apollo, and many of the symbols around the palace depict his face in a picture of the sun.

Katherine tells us that Louis XV had 300 mistresses and died young of chlamydia. I'm not sure I'm finding this all that surprising. Louis XVI came to the throne when he was only 20, and was too young to have any idea what he was doing. The country was deeply in debt at the time mostly due to the extravagances of Louis XIV, and Louis XVI didn't do a lot to resolve the situation. He consequently became very unpopular, which eventually led to the French Revolution and Louis' demise under the blade of the guillotine.

The gardens are currently exhibiting a temporary modern art exhibition. This includes a large metal statue which looks like a trumpet. It's called "Dirty Corner", and is apparently supposed to represent Marie Antoinette's private parts. Loud classical music's playing continuously from what must be a very fancy sound system. I tell Issy that I wouldn't mind having something similar installed in the back yard back home. I'm sure the neighbours wouldn't mind.

The Palace interior is ridiculously ornate. The famous Hall of Mirrors looks like it's about 100 metres long, and is indeed all lined with mirrors. When Louis built it, mirrors were apparently very rare, and most French people had never seen one. Most of the world's mirror makers were based in Venice, so he travelled there and convinced some of them to come back to Versailles with him. Some of their fellow Venetians weren't all that happy about their artisans giving up their trade secrets, so they had some of them poisoned. Louis used the Hall of Mirrors to intimidate visitors, most of whom were terrified of him to start with. He was very insistent on them following etiquette, and Katherine tells us that he is often credited with having invented the concept. He would get visitors to walk up and down the hall with him, knowing that they were terrified of making etiquette mistakes. This was then made worse by them having to simultaneously cope with seeing their own reflections for the first time.

We catch the train back into Paris, and go to meet our guide for our tour of the Eiffel Tower. She's Australian! She tells us that the Tower was built for the World Exhibition in 1891, and was the result of a competition to see who could come up with the best idea for a temporary structure to form the Exhibition's gate. The rules included that it must be more than 300 metres high, which was twice as high as the tallest structure in the world at the time. Entries included a giant pink elephant, a giant guillotine, and a 300 metre high fountain. The fountain idea was knocked out when someone realised that it would have rained on the exhibition for most of the time. Gustav Eiffel was a famous architect and engineer, and his idea of a steel tower won. The City of Paris told Eiffel that he could build his tower if he funded 80% of the cost, which was $30 million in today's money, and it was originally supposed to have been dismantled at the end of the Expo. Eiffel agreed to the City's terms, but only on the condition that he get to own the Tower after the Exhibition, and keep it in place for 20 years. He turned it into a paying tourist attraction, and got his money back in only six months.

We're told that we're not allowed to take any sharp objects, glassware or padlocks up the Tower. They've brought in the padlock rule to avoid turning it into the Pont Neuf, the railings of which are now completely covered with padlocks. They're also apparently worried that if someone threw a key off the Eiffel Tower, which is what you're supposed to do from Pont Neuf, it might do an unsuspecting passer-by some nasty damage. As we go through security screening we see a tray full of items that have been confiscated. It's very large, and it's overflowing with scissors, knives, corkscrews and a whole array of other dangerous looking weaponry.

We go up to the second level, which is about half way up. It's heavily overcast but the views are still stunning. Issy's feeling tired so she goes back to the hotel while I queue up to go the rest of the way up. The queue seems to be moving very slowly, and I then notice some very concerned looking officials standing around an unattended backpack. I think they're worried it might be a bomb. After a while they start to look a bit more relaxed. I'm not quite sure why; it hasn't exploded, and they don't seem to have opened it up to see what's inside. I decide that being blown up on the Eiffel Tower would at least be a memorable way to go, so I stay in the queue. It looks like you can see half the world from the top.

On the way back to the hotel I pass the same Chinese restaurant that we passed two nights ago that had a long and unruly queue of Asian people outside it. The queue's there again, only this time it's even longer, and again all the other restaurants around it are almost empty. This restaurant must serve amazing food. Either that or there are no other Chinese restaurants in Paris and these people are really really hanging out for noodles and fried rice. I wonder if I'd queue up for hours outside a restaurant in Shanghai to get a pie and sauce.

We're both very tired so we decide to have dinner in our room. I wonder if this is considered significant enough to blog about. I'm sure I'll find out when Issy reads it.

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Comments

[maree young]

Loving the blog & enjoying the history lessons. Keep writing Dave !