As far as museum challenges go, this weekend's was epic. (Yes, I said it: epic. Go ahead, cringe.) It all began as a leisurely attempt to take advantage of the sunny weather and complete the Versailles visit of a few weeks prior-- we still had yet to see the Grand Trianon Palace, perhaps the fanciest of a collection of smaller buildings on the Versailles Palace grounds. Flash forward about two hours to 4:45pm: coat slung across my arm, beads of sweat beginning to form across our foreheads, we dodged mobile obstacles (aka tourists) as we raced the clock through the Gardens of Versailles.
No, no, they hadn't re-instated any sort of guillotining practice to motivate such an epic run on royal grounds. And while I may be notoriously running late, this time it really wasn't my fault. We'd been faced with a typical French problem: the RER (chronically problematic French commuter rail). Though we'd made it to the train station with time to spare, we arrived to learn that the standard line out to the Versailles Palace was exceptionally out of service this weekend. Great. As it was, we hadn't actually arrived with that much time to spare. Determined not to let the potentially last sunny weekend of the Museum Challenge go to waste, we crossed the city to reach another train station where we might get service to another station in the town of Versailles. By the time we arrived at the palace entrance, the woman at the ticket booth told us we'd never make it to Trianon. But never is not an answer that museum challenge veterans swallow easily. So the race began.
And in case you've been holding your breath for the final outcome of the human obstacle course, the score: Foreign tourists: 0, Museum Challengers: 2. (Yes, I'm giving Peter and me 1 point each for this one.) Despite our labored breathing and shiny red faces, we were admitted to the Trianon Palace with all of about two minutes to spare. That evening, we closed out the palace, with guards locking up each set of doors only after we'd strolled through, like cleaning staff awaiting the master of the house's final perusal before leaving their guard for the night. (At least I enjoy indulging in such fantasies as wandering through fully furnished small palaces on my Sunday afternoons. I'm guessing the museum staff felt otherwise.)
The Grand Trianon was built for Louis XIV at a site where he used to like to retreat with his mistress, Madame de Montaspan. I think it's worth taking a moment to reflect on just how serious this mistress-to-the-king deal was. I mean, these women could get buildings commissioned for them, they could change national policies, and they were even formally recognized at court! A far cry from the graves into which modern American politicians dig themselves when marriage vows are caught being broken.
News to me: in his day, Louis XIV, his sister-in-law, his brother-in-law, and his daughter lived in the Grand Trianon. (I'd always assumed they'd been living up in the main palace.) Later, Louis XV's wife Maria Leszczynska would live here in the summers, and later still Napoleon often stayed here with his second wife Empress Marie-Louise. The furniture on display is mostly from Napoleon's time, all the royal furniture having been lost during the French revolution. In 1963, President Charles de Gaulle had the palace restored as a guest house for French presidents (in whose number he could conveniently count himself).
A visit to the Grand Trianon is impressive in that, as Peter pointed out, though extraordinarily ornate, something about it seems much more liveable that the Palace of Versailles. The atmosphere is much airier, more fanciful (thank you, pink marble exterior), joyful even, compared to the heavy and imposing main palace. And as I mentioned from the start, it's not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon, strolling through a palace and imagining the guests you'd host and the parties you'd throw in such a "liveable" setting. Though it is missing a certain view of the Eiffel Tower. I guess even royalty can't have everything.
No, no, they hadn't re-instated any sort of guillotining practice to motivate such an epic run on royal grounds. And while I may be notoriously running late, this time it really wasn't my fault. We'd been faced with a typical French problem: the RER (chronically problematic French commuter rail). Though we'd made it to the train station with time to spare, we arrived to learn that the standard line out to the Versailles Palace was exceptionally out of service this weekend. Great. As it was, we hadn't actually arrived with that much time to spare. Determined not to let the potentially last sunny weekend of the Museum Challenge go to waste, we crossed the city to reach another train station where we might get service to another station in the town of Versailles. By the time we arrived at the palace entrance, the woman at the ticket booth told us we'd never make it to Trianon. But never is not an answer that museum challenge veterans swallow easily. So the race began.
And in case you've been holding your breath for the final outcome of the human obstacle course, the score: Foreign tourists: 0, Museum Challengers: 2. (Yes, I'm giving Peter and me 1 point each for this one.) Despite our labored breathing and shiny red faces, we were admitted to the Trianon Palace with all of about two minutes to spare. That evening, we closed out the palace, with guards locking up each set of doors only after we'd strolled through, like cleaning staff awaiting the master of the house's final perusal before leaving their guard for the night. (At least I enjoy indulging in such fantasies as wandering through fully furnished small palaces on my Sunday afternoons. I'm guessing the museum staff felt otherwise.)
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| Le Grand Trianon on Versailles Palace grounds |
News to me: in his day, Louis XIV, his sister-in-law, his brother-in-law, and his daughter lived in the Grand Trianon. (I'd always assumed they'd been living up in the main palace.) Later, Louis XV's wife Maria Leszczynska would live here in the summers, and later still Napoleon often stayed here with his second wife Empress Marie-Louise. The furniture on display is mostly from Napoleon's time, all the royal furniture having been lost during the French revolution. In 1963, President Charles de Gaulle had the palace restored as a guest house for French presidents (in whose number he could conveniently count himself).
A visit to the Grand Trianon is impressive in that, as Peter pointed out, though extraordinarily ornate, something about it seems much more liveable that the Palace of Versailles. The atmosphere is much airier, more fanciful (thank you, pink marble exterior), joyful even, compared to the heavy and imposing main palace. And as I mentioned from the start, it's not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon, strolling through a palace and imagining the guests you'd host and the parties you'd throw in such a "liveable" setting. Though it is missing a certain view of the Eiffel Tower. I guess even royalty can't have everything.
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