The line at Versailles

My uncle returns home and in the evening five of his friends and two children arrive to welcome him home. We feast on bread, meats, pate and a variety of cheeses. There is champagne and red wine but two centimetres of red is the limit of my underdeveloped palate. I nod politely and pretend to understand more French than I do. I listen attentively and pick up bits of the conversation. ... with ... all... in the morning .. politicians ... the cheese... Japanese ...

My uncles friends are thirty years younger than him. I ask him the next day if he has any friends his own age. He says they are all dead or at least, those that are still alive are infirm and not able to visit.

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On Friday my uncle leaves early for medical appointments. I have the morning free so I head out for Versailles. This is only forty minutes away by train from Paris but this figure is misleading. I catch the metro across town but there are problems with the train line. I have to change to a shuttle bus from which I jump off too early. I have a pleasant brisk walk along the Seine. I find the right train and wait for it to depart. In Versailles I orientate myself, buy tickets and walk 5 minutes to the palace. The gold trimming of the buildings shines brightly. I enter the first gates to the palace and now comes the longest part of the journey. The entrance line.



It curves around the courtyard for about 500m. But fortunately it is moving fairly quickly and I am almost constantly ambling forward. There are throngs of people in other lines and I wonder where they are headed but then I realise with horror that they are all in the same line ahead of me. The line snakes and folds and is twice as long as I thought. It takes 50 minutes before I enter the palace and then I rush around to see as much as can in an hour and half.




The palace overlooks vast sprawling gardens and lawns. The central path is wide and clear and features a long canal. Along the sides are arrays of enormous hedges with long corridors of greenery which lead to hidden gardens and fountains. There are also some modern sculptures that litter the grounds. Huge curves of rusted metal that look like the rib cage of a whale. They spoil the scenery.





A path leads to the estate of Marie Antoinette and I spend what time I have rushing through sumptuous rooms with ornate paintings. There is a room with a large billiard table and a very old theaterette, dim and musty, with ornate trappings a shadow of past glories.


But now it is late so I rush back over the grounds to return to Paris as quickly as possible to keep my appointment.

I did have a lovely time but it was too rushed. I would have enjoyed it more if I had more time for it.