last day

Hall of Mirrors in VersaillesOne of the things that everyone does in Paris is visit Versailles.


Built for King Louis XIV, the self-proclaimed "Sun King", the palace is the best example of decadence the world over.
Gold-gilded doors, a hall of mirrors, and crystal chandeliers are only the beginning of it. Each room is devoted to a different Roman god and contains a different portrait or statue of Louis XIV. Tapestries in heavy silks with gold thread hang from the walls, marble pillars and painted ceilings complete the look. As I walked through the palace I could only gaze open-mouthed upon the sometimes gaudy excess that was Louis' taste.


When my mom visited Versailles, she felt the same way--overwhelmed by a palace that was more ornamental than historic or charming. The part of the palace that she fell in love with was the grounds and Marie-Antoinette's garden estate. 

Marie-Antoinette's estate
Marie-Antoinette continues to fascinate people, whether it's for her gory death or her naiive remark regarding cake. Her little estate, modeled after a 17th century French farming village, only increases her allure. 


The village looks like something out of a Disney princess movie: small stone cottages complete with thatched roofs, charming rounded windows and abundant gardens. On a large pond, a single white swan swims gracefully and several small pastures hold a collection of goats, chickens, sheep and a peacock. My mom and I were completely enchanted and spent more time walking around the little hamlet than we did in the actual palace. 

Now and then:

Left: 1978, my mom took a picture leaving Versailles

Right: 2009, my mom took a picture of me leaving Versailles

At 11:15 a.m. tomorrow my mom and I will be boarding a plane for a the first leg of our 12-hour journey back.


Leaving France is bittersweet. I'm ready to be home but at the same time, I wish I could stay longer. I'm not sure when I'll return, but unlike my mom, I know I won't wait thirty years; I enjoyed being here far too much. A part of me is dreaming about moving here, living in an ancient stone house with a curving staircase to a dusty attic and windows framed by blue shutters and planter boxes full of red geraniums. 


It's not that I don't love my home in Seattle, because really I do, but there's something about the culture of France that I want infused into my own life. I love that the people still buy baguettes, even at the grocery store, instead of packaged, sliced bread. Every evening people crowd boulangeries to buy their bread for dinnr, leaving with the loaves tucked in bags or simply slipped under one arm. 


I love that the little markets on the streets put their fresh fruit outside under colorful awnings where you can smell them the moment you walk by. 


I love the convenience of Paris' Metro and watching the people get on and off the train: stereotypical French women dressed in black, working men in suits, and the occasional intellectual wearing horn-rimmed glasses, a rumpled sweater and loafers.


I love the flea markets in the country--even the tables of sausages, strange cuts of meat and jars of foie gras.


I love guessing the history of every limestone building, and drinking a cup of café au lait, a taste that can never compare to anything I can get in Seattle. 


Maybe if I lived here the wonders of France would get old; I'd move into a routine and take the street-corner accordion players and sidewalk cafés for granted. 


Today as my mom and I walked the cobblestone streets of Paris for the last time, I ignored my aching feet and instead tried to remember every detail of the city. We spent our last day exploring and shopping although we didn't buy anything except for pastries and coffee. Wind whipped through the narrow streets and twice it rained. The leaves are already falling and schools here are in session. Summer has left in the two weeks that we've been here and I feel nostalgic for school, yellow pencils and maybe, a little, for my home. 

the end of our first week

August 19, 1978 
Debbie writes:
"Today we set off for the Chateaus. Beautiful country. We saw Chateau Loches (but not inside), Amboise (beautiful, on a hill, looks over a river), and Roche D'Azay, and D'Usse (but that was too expensive to go inside, but it looks like Sleeping Beauty's castle!) We had a great pig-out at a bakery at Chenonceaux (another chateau). The pastry was fantastic. Also at Amboise, we had an ice cream sundae in the cutest little ancient ice cream pastry shop..."

Chamont
Thirty-one years later, my mom is back in the Loire Valley but this time she is more focused on the chateaux than on French pastries. Don't get me wrong, French pastry is delicious, and my mom and I constantly indulge in pain au chocolat (a pastry with chocolate) and, of course, la glace (ice cream). A lot of my mom's journal entries in the Loire Valley read like a menu describing gastronomic delights: flaky pastries, nutty, chocolate sundaes, and waffles topped 
with whipped cream and berries. Scattered here and there are descriptions of beautiful,   Disney-like castles. 


We left the chateau this morning, after the usual lovely French breakfast. (The French just know how to do food right: fresh baked croissants and baguettes with red currant jam, natural yogurt topped with fresh fruit and steaming cups of coffee. Perfect.) This time I drove.


As I crossed through fields following a winding countryside road I could not get over the fact that I was driving in France. It was just such an odd sensation. This time my mom sat and pointed things out the window, watching dancing fields of wheat, corn and sunflowers go passing by. 


The Loire Valley is filled with chateaux--literally they are only a few miles apart. Little farming towns encircle the base of each chateau. I marvel at all the little stone cottages, some that share a wall with the towering castles. I can't help but wonder how long it takes to get used to living in the shadow of a 15th century landmark. Do these village residents ever marvel over the history of the gorgeous architecture in their backyard? 



ChenonceauxOur first chateau was Chamont (it's right across the river from our hotel). Chamont is a "small chateau" and was given to one of the French king's mistresses after he died and the queen wanted the bigger chateau--Chenonceaux. (Keeping the lives of French royalty straight is like trying to keep up with a soap opera. The love interests constantly change.)


We then headed for Chenonceaux, the famous chateau that sits on a river (built for above mistress). The castle is built out of pure white sandstone and sits at the end of a long drive, bordered by ancient trees. The grounds are immaculate and include three gardens filled with perfect topiaries and beds of wild colored buds. It is truly amazing.

The gardens of Chenonceaux
Just as in 1978, my mom and I ordered pastry while there. It wasn't a pastry "pig-out" per se, but the dessert was still delicious: a little rounded cube with flaky, buttery layers and large chunks of dark chocolate.


After getting our fill on pastry, (and quiche), we headed to the fortified city of Amboise and its chateau. Built in the 11th century, it's one of the oldest in the Loire Valley, hosting the French court and its guests for many years. Leonardo da Vinci was the artist in residence there during the final years of his life and is buried in the small chapel beside the chateau, as was his wish.

Amboise
I think I'm getting used to France now. My mom says it feels like we've been here forever but at the same time, our first week has sped by. We're getting used to hearing French (as well as Italian and German) and now hearing English is odd--especially American-accented English. The little charms of France (or little irritations, if you will), are beginning to grow on us: the narrow, winding roads that barely fit one car, the tolls (and therefore perfectly-maintained roads), as well as the all the expenses (yes, sometimes you have to pay to use the toilets). The only thing that we miss are a few people that we've left behind in Washington.