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Saturday. Chissa' (Who knows?!) AM.
Once again we've missed our complementary breakfast at the hostel, so we go to a patisserie we saw near the hostel the day before. I'm not hungry, and I'm slightly disoriented from finally getting some sleep, and I stand, droopy-eyed and expressionless, slowly glancing over the wide array of pastries crowded in the glass cases before us. I am completely, totally, and utterly overwhelmed. I feel like we are playing a game with this pastry shop and I am losing. It becomes clear to me that my head is not screwed on right quite yet and I move through a long line of Parisians, like a chinook heading upriver, outside onto the street to wait for the others. Apparently my Italian tendencies are winning out over my Parisian ones: Never mind breakfast, just give me some espresso, immediately, or I will keel over and die.
We walk a few blocks to the nearest Metro stop. My head is still not screwed on right. We rode the Metro many, many times yesterday, but as we enter the stop on this beautifully bizarre morning, I feel like I am walking into a video game. We're familiar with how to ride the Metro now, and we wind our way through various tunnels, following arrows, taking quick glances at musicians and gypsies, and all trying to stay together. We're spit out of the final tunnel onto the correct platform: 10 points.
The Metro in Paris is incredibly easy to figure out, which makes experiencing Paris all the more enjoyable and possible. While in Rome, we walked everywhere and only had 10 hours to "see it all." We walked 23 miles that day and only saw a quarter of what we could have seen if there had been a Metro. One day in Paris blows one day in Rome out of the acqua frizzante.
But the Metro is much more than an easy mode of public transportation; it is the best way to experience the people of Paris and get a glimpse of their everyday lives in this teeming city. The hundreds of faces one sees during a day's worth of travel on the Metro inspire much thought about Parisian life, and inevitably, our own lives. (I apologize, I'm beginning to sound like a Rick Steve's episode)
We get to the north edge of the city center and catch a train to the country to visit the Palace of Versailles. A few minutes pass and an accordionist and a saxophonist come into our car to serenade us all. We reach the end of the track and walk down a grand avenue, at the end of which we can see a large, gilded building. The sky is gray and wind is whipping through the avenue. As we get closer and closer to the gilded building, Laura asks,
"Where are we? What is this?"
We all answer, "Versailles!"
She responds with,
"NO WAY! THIS is where the TREATY went down?!!"
The Palace of Versailles began as a simple hunting lodge, but in 1661 Louis XIV began enlarging it, and construction and interior and exterior design continued until his death 54 years later. His grandson Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette moved here in 1774--59 years after his grandfather's death--and turned the Palace of Versailles into what we see today: It was and is the largest palace in Europe, capable of housing 20,000 people at a time (which it did for many years).
In 1789 the King and Queen were then forced to flee their palace for Paris and were executed four years later in 1793. Exactly forty years later Louis Philippe, a "King of the French," turned the chateau--which Louis XIV made the center of political power in France--into a museum. The establishment of the Palace of Versailles as a full-fledged museum was a long and laborious process. Sometime during the final years of the 1700's, in the days following the palace's abandonement, the wealthy and politically connected Huges Lagarde (a soap merchant from Marseille) was appointed as bibliographer. Lagarde strove to turn the Palace of Versailles into a museum and assembled a team of curators. Thanks to the effort of individuals like Lagarde, ordinary mortals like us are able to wander about this regal place. I can only imagine the probable disgust and horror the royalty of this period would experience in knowing that millions of commoners pass through this palace every year.
Furthermore, I can only imagine the probable disgust and horror the royalty of this period would experience in knowing that Jeff Koons' art was displayed here. Koons, who is still alive today, is one of the world's priciest and most controversial artists. He is known for creating humongous, brightly colored metal reproductions of objects such as ballon animals and people, such as Pamela Anderson and Michael Jackson--sitting with his chimpanzee Bubbles no less. In 2008 one of his pieces sold for $25.7 million...it was a giant balloon knot resembling a flower.
According to Edouard de Royère (creator of the Fondation du Patrimoine and a noteworthy patron of Versailles), "I am not against contemporary art, but I am absolutely shocked at its descent on Versailles, a magical, sacred place."
According to Koons, "[Contemporary Art] is so imprisoned in the present that juxtaposing new works with old ones allows [us] to rediscover a connection between history and the history of art. . . The baroque is the ideal context for me to highlight the philosophical nature of my work."
In my opinion, Koons is correct, and I greatly enjoyed the exhibit and how it affected my perspective of Versailles. There was something so thrilling about this particular combination of old and new and the controversy it caused. I couldn't keep from grinning: the people involved in this exhibit really stirred the pot and brought to light the opinions concerning modern art today. It is controversy that coaxes the truth out of its cave.
In 1919 the Treaty of Versailles, which ended the war between the Allied Powers and Germany, was signed here in the Hall of Mirrors. The armistice signed in 1918 ended the actual fighting, but six months later the Treaty of Versailles drew the peace negotiations to a close. I couldn't help but imagine President Obama amidst a group of balding white men and a myriad of representatives for the Middle East, seated in the Hall of Mirrors, signing a peace treaty and eating croissants.
We spent hours and hours exploring both the interior of the chateau and the vast expanse of gardens outside, yet we were barely able to see even a third of the grounds. Inside the chateau we saw many of Jeff Koons' bizarre sculptures--among them, Michael Jackson posing with Bubbles, a scantily clad Pamela Anderson, a blow-up lobster beach-toy hanging from the ceiling, and a giant balloon animal dog--on display in the elegant living quarters and grand halls.
I felt a mysterious presence of royal blood. It was difficult not to imagine elegantly dressed figures moving about in the rooms and gardens we visited, leading lives of great--and in my opinion, DISGUSTING--excess. It was even more difficult not to imagine weary servants moving about, serving, serving, serving. The Palace of Versailles is breathtakingly beautiful, but it did not become so without many costs. Even more breathtaking than the display of creativity, skill and natural beauty one sees at the Palace of Versailles, is the display of greed and vanity.
After several hours exploring the gardens the weather is nearly unbearable. Our hands and faces are frozen by the biting wind and our bodies are simply tired. We bid adieu to Versailles and make our way back to the city center--but not before making a pit stop at a Starbucks near the train station of course. This time, I "imbibe."
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