The Great Virgins:
Another Pretty Great Virgin:
Monday, February 22, 2010
Day 1
So we started out on the Salt Lake to Paris, since the booking agent swore that we had to visit London first, but fly in to Paris. Whatever works for you, I guess. Our very first picture is right after the overnight-butt long-flight:
Nellie looking beautiful as ever, with Lisa personifying "I've seen corpses with better color".
Somebody probably should have warned Nellers about the family curse because the plane was delayed for so long (de-icing, de-bagging, and de-passengering) that we didn't get into London until around 5 or 6. We made it to our hotel without too much trouble and found the VA booked us into the Ambassador Hotel...in the basement. Here's what our "window"/sliding glass door looked like:
And incidentally, no, you could not open the glass door that led into an alley, but you could push the metal bars back just like in a shop window.
This was the rest of our room:
As you can see, the closet included a tv console and dinette. Room decor consisted of a large framed picture of the Underground they were so kind though as to put on the wall opposite the bed. So much for Day 1...
Nellie looking beautiful as ever, with Lisa personifying "I've seen corpses with better color".Somebody probably should have warned Nellers about the family curse because the plane was delayed for so long (de-icing, de-bagging, and de-passengering) that we didn't get into London until around 5 or 6. We made it to our hotel without too much trouble and found the VA booked us into the Ambassador Hotel...in the basement. Here's what our "window"/sliding glass door looked like:
And incidentally, no, you could not open the glass door that led into an alley, but you could push the metal bars back just like in a shop window.This was the rest of our room:
As you can see, the closet included a tv console and dinette. Room decor consisted of a large framed picture of the Underground they were so kind though as to put on the wall opposite the bed. So much for Day 1...
Day 2
Day 2 was Valentine's Day, and thus the reason of the whole trip. Being a Sunday we decided to let ourselves sleep in until church at 1. When we walked into the building we were immediately greeted by an American, who we sat next to, and actually had another American on the other side as well. And alas, hard as I looked, I found no snogging prospects there that day...After church we headed off to the Tate which was fairly unexceptionable except for the front:
Apparently they were doing a Beatles exhibit.We also started watching British TV around this point and I must say, I always thought that I was just a Doctors fan, but it turns out that I love British soaps in general. I mean, Coronation Street was pretty uninteresting--the only plot seemed to revolve around a very middle-aged woman with a very underage boy looking for her husband (who was lost at sea). But on Hollyoaks it started out with stolen prom dresses, a transvestite breaking up with his girlfriend (yes, you read that right), a girl sending her robbing-skeaze-bucket boyfriend to jail as he stabs the guy who was trying to save her, then that guy turning out to be using her for her money which he steals after she moves out (and they somehow got married in there), and her best friend seeking solace/psychological advice about her leaving in a blond girl who desperately wants him though he never notices, a super-religious Indian family who have taken in a girl whose mother only turns up when she wants money have a huge showdown with the mother (who they kick when she come to visit), while the previously mentioned dumped girlfriend goes on a bender and lets the teacher who's been supervising the stolen-prom-dresses kids move in with her because he gets kicked out on Valentine's Day. Who says there's nothing good on TV anymore?
We also hit up Westminster. I'd forgotten how cool that building is:
I also took a picture of the guide for those reliefs on the wall:
We got in for an organ recital and (albeit blatantly breaking the rules) managed to snap one picture inside:
I still wonder what this was supposed to be:
Anyway, V-Day dinner we couldn't think of anyplace great to go so we just stumbled into this place, not realizing that we'd found our home--the Valentine's Day Reject's Cafe:
There were a few people alone, one couple who obviously couldn't get a reservation, some friends sitting together and even one girl with her parents. That place was like the antidote to romance, but the food was amazing. I even took a picture of the cake:
After dinner we headed off to see where I lived when I went to school there:
I know. I'm hot, right?
Anyhoo, we also found a lovely little picture on a map:
Right there! In the center! That's new. I'm so proud of us.
Thus endeth Day 2...
Day 3
As I woke up on Day 3 I started singing this song that's been stuck in my head for a really long time. Turns out Nellie's been singing it too, so we started singing together. Every morning for the rest of the trip. Thus was born the Virgin's Anthem: Tick Tock by Ke$ha.
Along the way, Nellie had been promising to buy me things whenever she particularly wanted to get her way. Her tally had by then reached 1 cookie, 2 sparkly things, and an unspecified amount of flowers. It was also around this time that we started reading the posters on the underground. Some were funny, like:
We finally got down to some shopping in Notting Hill on Portabello Road ("Portabello road, street where the riches of ages are stowed! Anything and everything a chap can unload, is sold off the barrow in Portobello Road."), which Janelle had never heard of before, but she had to experience. We took the street where the Beatles posed crossing the road, and there's a great little shop that sells plaques that say things like "If you're smoking in my house, you'd better be on fire" and "I used to have a brain but now I have children" and "Housework probably won't kill you, but why take the chance?".
When we got down to the stalls I bought a jacket and a hat that makes me look "jaunty" (Friends, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?), while Janelle wandered off for so long that I wondered if she had been snatched by an unbooked minicab driver. I then cashed in one of my sparkly things for some Body Shop lipgloss--ruby red and fabulous. Then we picked up some souvies including a "Good Girls go to Heaven, Bad Girls go to London" shirt for her sister, and then headed off for the Tower of London.
The most famous spot on Tower Hill is of course the Bloody Tower, formerly known as the Garden Tower, until Richard the Third murdered his two nephews there (don't argue, you know it was him), and had their bodies buried under the stairs. The only really problem with it is that they have very strict pedestrian traffic rules at the tower, and the entrance to that particular turret is around this corner and up the back, so you just wandering around asking "Where's the Bloody Tower? Where's the Bloody Tower?!"
The highlight of the trip for Janelle was the turret where Lady Jane Grey was held. You can see her name carved on the wall, probably by one of her supporters but possibly by her:
The final stop of our day was at the Crown Jewels. The line is impossibly long, but the jewels themselves basically rock. As soon as we got out there was a sign for the Tower Jewelry store that said something about buying something sparkly (which we decided was a sign) and we went in. Nellers is even more awesome than I ever could have known, because this is what she bought me to count as my second sparkly thing:
Along the way, Nellie had been promising to buy me things whenever she particularly wanted to get her way. Her tally had by then reached 1 cookie, 2 sparkly things, and an unspecified amount of flowers. It was also around this time that we started reading the posters on the underground. Some were funny, like:
Some were not so funny, like the Unbooked Minicab campaign. You can access that one here, but be aware that it's fairly frightening. Of course, after so many times of seeing the Minicab poster, and the sheer shock that they'd put that on a poster, it became an inside joke. Forget boogey-monsters--now you can fear Unbooked Minicab Drivers.
We finally got down to some shopping in Notting Hill on Portabello Road ("Portabello road, street where the riches of ages are stowed! Anything and everything a chap can unload, is sold off the barrow in Portobello Road."), which Janelle had never heard of before, but she had to experience. We took the street where the Beatles posed crossing the road, and there's a great little shop that sells plaques that say things like "If you're smoking in my house, you'd better be on fire" and "I used to have a brain but now I have children" and "Housework probably won't kill you, but why take the chance?".
When we got down to the stalls I bought a jacket and a hat that makes me look "jaunty" (Friends, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?), while Janelle wandered off for so long that I wondered if she had been snatched by an unbooked minicab driver. I then cashed in one of my sparkly things for some Body Shop lipgloss--ruby red and fabulous. Then we picked up some souvies including a "Good Girls go to Heaven, Bad Girls go to London" shirt for her sister, and then headed off for the Tower of London.
The most famous spot on Tower Hill is of course the Bloody Tower, formerly known as the Garden Tower, until Richard the Third murdered his two nephews there (don't argue, you know it was him), and had their bodies buried under the stairs. The only really problem with it is that they have very strict pedestrian traffic rules at the tower, and the entrance to that particular turret is around this corner and up the back, so you just wandering around asking "Where's the Bloody Tower? Where's the Bloody Tower?!"
The highlight of the trip for Janelle was the turret where Lady Jane Grey was held. You can see her name carved on the wall, probably by one of her supporters but possibly by her:
They used to write J's as I's.
They try to create the whole experience for you by putting cameras in the top room so you can see what it feels like to be watched all the time in a room with archery slats for windows that's about the size of my living room. And just in case any of you are wondering who Jane Grey was...:
Another super famous thing about the Tower is that there was this prophecy that as long as there were 6 ravens in the yard, the Tower would never fall. They now keep 7 of them in cages, which I think is cheating, but then nobody asked me:
The final stop of our day was at the Crown Jewels. The line is impossibly long, but the jewels themselves basically rock. As soon as we got out there was a sign for the Tower Jewelry store that said something about buying something sparkly (which we decided was a sign) and we went in. Nellers is even more awesome than I ever could have known, because this is what she bought me to count as my second sparkly thing:
Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling
Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling
Look familiar folks? That's right, because it's Queen Victoria's Diamond Choker. Apparently it was Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling commissioned in the Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling and modeled off the crown she had made because it was too Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling. Sorry, that just keeps popping up whenever I talk about it. Or look at it. Or think about it.
Anyway the rest of the day was pretty much a blur. So ends Day Bling bling daddy, daddy bling bling.
Day 4
Now Nellie's first time on a double-decker bus was on Day 2, but the whole reason we were on it was because we decided to go see a movie since it was late and rainy and there was nothing else to do. For two people with several degrees and numerous qualifications between us, we never quite figured out how we managed to miss a great big movie theater marquee as we apparently walked and drove past it about 4 times. Day 3 we finally found it, but most of the movies ended before we got there, so we gave up. So Tuesday morning we showed up half an hour early, at the correct movie theater, to see a movie about America while we were in England. Perhaps you've heard of it:
We didn't even realize until it was ending that we were watching a movie about Mardi Gras on Mardi Gras, which was pretty cool, especially since there were no other MG celebrations going on that day that we could see. Of course it gave Nellie nightmares, but that's beside the point.
Since we were downtown that day we also went to Kensington Palace so Nellers could stand where Princess Diana stood, and then we moved onto the Park. The Gardens were wildly unexceptional given that it was winter but as we moved onto Hyde Park things were pretty cool. We went back to the Peter Pan park and grabbed a photo of the mini Big Ben:
We went around to all the statues in the Park (if you're ever lost, that's the only way to find your way around), and went back to the path behind the Peter Pan statue which leads the back of some gated house in the Park (I never did quite figure out who it belongs to).
As I do love statue pictures:
That night we went to see Sister Act the Musical at the Palladium with my old roommate from London (who is in and of herself buckets of fun). We were basically peeing our pants because it's set in Reno and we were probably the only people from Reno in the crowd. 'Course, it turned out that they reset it in the East, but it was so Fabulous that we forgave them for that (yes, Fabulous was one of the songs). Doesn't the set just make you feel all homey for the casinos?:
It also had a few amazing quotes, such as "If this is the way to Heaven, screw Hell", and "He's upped the contract to $25,000!" "$25,000? Now that's respect!", "$25,000? We could repair the entire convent with that! Oh I'm sorry, that sounded insensitive." and from the old nun "Do a shot when you save a soul!".
All in all, a marvelous evening in which, I admit, we did take unbooked cabs--but still managed to make it back from Day 4 just fine.
We didn't even realize until it was ending that we were watching a movie about Mardi Gras on Mardi Gras, which was pretty cool, especially since there were no other MG celebrations going on that day that we could see. Of course it gave Nellie nightmares, but that's beside the point.
Since we were downtown that day we also went to Kensington Palace so Nellers could stand where Princess Diana stood, and then we moved onto the Park. The Gardens were wildly unexceptional given that it was winter but as we moved onto Hyde Park things were pretty cool. We went back to the Peter Pan park and grabbed a photo of the mini Big Ben:
Time Flies...And So Do You, I See
As I do love statue pictures:
and phone booths...
Same booth as last time, if I recall correctly.
That night we went to see Sister Act the Musical at the Palladium with my old roommate from London (who is in and of herself buckets of fun). We were basically peeing our pants because it's set in Reno and we were probably the only people from Reno in the crowd. 'Course, it turned out that they reset it in the East, but it was so Fabulous that we forgave them for that (yes, Fabulous was one of the songs). Doesn't the set just make you feel all homey for the casinos?:
It also had a few amazing quotes, such as "If this is the way to Heaven, screw Hell", and "He's upped the contract to $25,000!" "$25,000? Now that's respect!", "$25,000? We could repair the entire convent with that! Oh I'm sorry, that sounded insensitive." and from the old nun "Do a shot when you save a soul!".
All in all, a marvelous evening in which, I admit, we did take unbooked cabs--but still managed to make it back from Day 4 just fine.
Day 5
So Day 5 dawned bright and way too early. Our flight to Paris was set for 10:15 am which would mean an hour for the train, an hour to be early and about an hour to get ready/cushion time. We were not so keen on waking up at 7:15 and since we both had "Ride the Chunnel" on our lifetime list, we decided to forget the plane and ride the Chunnel. We took a couple of Goodbye London pics as we headed out, including this one that just cracked me up:
We were totally living in the projects! :) Hee hee.
I don't know if this one was supposed to show that we were right next to an awesome church, or that our hotel was so far under construction that I still don't know whether the walls were stone, brick or whatever, but here it is. The Ambassador's on the left :)
Finally, this picture is for a specific group of my friends. You know who you are.
How little we knew then...
Anyhoo, once we got on, neither of us realized that the train would be quite so fast, and the fun part was over before we'd realized what had happened. Only problem was that the seats faced backwards and those of you who know me know that I'm prone to motion-sickness. I ended up kneeling in my seat, backwards, so I was facing front.
When we got into the Paris Metro we had to pull our luggage through these ticket-taking-door-stopping-shutter things that closed from each side after you walked through. Well, ideally after you walked through. Normally you can just push through them if they shut too soon, but not in Paris. They shut on each of our bags with enough force to take off someone's arm. I just dragged and dragged and with Janelle's help mine came out. When we tried to do the same to Janelle's, it would NOT be moved. So we sat there desperately trying to pry it out of the jaws of the ticket-taker when a French woman came up and told us that it happens to everyone, and if we ever go through again, to carry the luggage in front. Then I took one shutter, Janelle took the other, and the woman pulled the suitcase out. Whatever people say about the French people being rude, a lot of them are really kind.
Their kindness was further evidenced by the people who warned us at our stop (Lamark) that there were 92 steps to get to the exit and that there was an elevator just around the corner. And in case you're not familiar with Paris, the Lamark Metro station is just one away from the Moulin Rouge and Le Musee d'Erotisme. Not exactly what we had in mind, but c'est la vie...
So the hotel room (despite being on the 3rd floor instead of the -1st this time) made the last hotel room look spacious and sprawling. Here we go:
I'm not cutting part of it out, either.
If you think that's bad, try a shot of the WC:
None of this mattered though, as soon as we realized that the window opened--and opened to a quaint little French street. Suddenly, it was the most charming room in the world.
Naturally, we had to eat in a creperie, and when we found one, it turned out our waitress had recently visited California. Quick tip: walking into a room in France and saying you're from America is somewhat akin to walking into a room in America and saying you work for the IRS. However, say you're from California (where we were both born) and you're golden. She was just delighted to translate the whole menu for us, and spent all her time explaining how to get around in Paris, and what time the Metro closed and all that. From there we popped onto the Metro to hit up L'Arc de Trimophe and le Tour Eiffel. As we chatted on the train this girl behind us turned around and struck up a conversation that, I'm sorry, but I have to dialogue for you:
Girl: Sorry to interrupt, but are you Americans?
Us: Yes.
Girl: [getting excited] Where are you from?!
Us: California.
Girl: [twitching with excitement] ME TOO! I'm from LA, I'm here for school! Why are you here?
Us: Vacation.
Girl: [confused] Just vacation? Well, that's cool. Are you going to high school...?
Us: Uh, no. We've finished college.
Girl: Okay. What are you studying in college?
Us: No, we've finished college. 4 years ago. [Nellie declines to comment on how long it's been for her]
Girl: Oh. Wow. I mean... If I had known you were women, I would never have turned around...
Turns out she was on a High School exchange program and thought we were too.
Two words:
Exfoliate and, Sunscreen.
We had decided to walk down the Champs Elysee to the Arc, then from there head to the Tower, but we hadn't realized that that would also take us by the Obelisk and to the Rue Saint-Germain, which Nellie wanted to walk on after hearing that song that Tim McGraw's first wife about it. As we passed the Obelisk, a car stopped to ask me for directions. I am proud to say that after getting my qualification in French in High School, studying the language in College through French Philosophy & Literature, and hours with a French tutor in the last year, I have finally worked up enough nerve to say "Desolee, je ne parle pas francais" ("I'm sorry, I don't speak French"). I always freeze whenever confronted with a native speaker. I did get better by the end of the trip.
The walk down the Champs Elysee was fairly uneventful, except for when we conned a theater usher into letting us use their bathroom--we were on the verge of calling a cab and telling them to take us wherever there were toilets--and before you knew it we were at Charles De Gaulle circle around the Arc de Trimophe. Quick history lesson: the traffic circle around the Arc is one of the worst in the world--10 lanes with 12 offshoot roads and no signal lights that is notorious for its constant traffic and impossibly aggressive drivers who execute hairsbreadth lane changes. I don't know what possessed us, okay, I don't know what possessed Nellie, I was just following on this one, but we crossed the circle, instead of taking the underground passage invented so as to not kill tourists. I mean, there are entire pamphlets on why you should not cross on top. It was definitely the most unintelligent thing I did on our trip. But hey, if the stupidest thing I did was not cross at a crossing zone, I'm saying we did pretty okay.
Next we moved onto the main event. Now, I always thought that the Eiffel Tower was highly overrated. I was wrong. It's incredible. Just this soft light and incredible energy and the absolute massiveness of the structure. Words are useless (gobble, gobble, gobble, too much of it darling, too much!) so that's all the explanation you get.
We decided to take a cab home, but thanks to the Mayor of London and his campaign, we were very picky about what cab we'd get into. We settled on this old Asian man, because we figured if he turned out to be a creeper, we could totally take him. He was not a creeper, and didn't even scalp us (according to the crepe lady) but he did mutter under his breath in French a lot, which was actually kinda endearing since he seemed to be muttering at the traffic and not at us.
So, a very eventful evening for Day 5.
Day 6
It is at this point that Nellie would like me to point out that I wasn't some sort of weak, passive observer in the whole "crossing the square" business. I, however, decline to admit any such thing.
So that morning we decided to go to Versailles, that magnificent example of regal excess. Alas, we got on the right type of train, just not one that took the right track. About 4 hours later, we got back to Paris and decided to go to Notre Dame.
The Bell Tower was already closed by that time, but we still got to walk around (it's stunning, by the way), and yes, naturally I sang God Help the Outcasts as I wandered. And luckily, they don't mind if you take pictures inside:
From there we were right next to the Louvre, and were trying to buy this hot chocolate mix for a friend of Neller's that was supposed to be just down the street (and just to get it out the way right now, we tried 3 times, and could never get it), so even though we had decided to cut the Louvre, we dropped by. Turned out they closed early that day so we only made it to the gift shop, but it was still pretty cool to be there--that place is massive.
From there we went to a place I have been dying to see: Le Grand Opera--the place where Phantom of the Opera was set. Was it amazing? Yes. Did I sneak in just as far as I could without having a ticket? Naturally. They also, just in case you were wondering, have an amazing gift shop. It was freaking cool. The amount of restraint it took not to buy everything is just colossal.
Unfortunately all the pics I took of the top were blurred, but this was the best out of those:
We walked by the Tulleries, which in the middle of a winter's night were really unimpressive, but that's okay because from there we went to the Comedie Francais. On the way we passed this chocolaterie that reminded me so much of the one from Chocolat that I had to a picture:
Anyway, the Comedie Francais was France's premier theater for ages, and where Marguerite St. Just (of The Scarlet Pimpernel) performed during the Revolution:
Then of course we had to go the Rue de Richlieu where she lived. Now might be a good time to mention that I collect the original Scarlet Pimpernel books:
Having seen all the street sights we want to, we went home, stopping by our first bakery on the way. It must have been 10:00 or 11:00 by that time so almost everything was sold out for the day, but we managed to buy some bread...and had a totally cathartic, almost overwhelming experience as we took the first bite. You don't know what food is, or meant to be, until you try real French bread. I had no idea that plain bread could taste like that. And Bre, just in case you're reading this, we did hold a moment of silence in your honor, with a slice of bree.
Seeing as most of Day 6 wasted on the wrong train, we got to bed early in hopes of a better Day 7.
So that morning we decided to go to Versailles, that magnificent example of regal excess. Alas, we got on the right type of train, just not one that took the right track. About 4 hours later, we got back to Paris and decided to go to Notre Dame.
The Bell Tower was already closed by that time, but we still got to walk around (it's stunning, by the way), and yes, naturally I sang God Help the Outcasts as I wandered. And luckily, they don't mind if you take pictures inside:
From there we were right next to the Louvre, and were trying to buy this hot chocolate mix for a friend of Neller's that was supposed to be just down the street (and just to get it out the way right now, we tried 3 times, and could never get it), so even though we had decided to cut the Louvre, we dropped by. Turned out they closed early that day so we only made it to the gift shop, but it was still pretty cool to be there--that place is massive.
From there we went to a place I have been dying to see: Le Grand Opera--the place where Phantom of the Opera was set. Was it amazing? Yes. Did I sneak in just as far as I could without having a ticket? Naturally. They also, just in case you were wondering, have an amazing gift shop. It was freaking cool. The amount of restraint it took not to buy everything is just colossal.
Unfortunately all the pics I took of the top were blurred, but this was the best out of those:
We walked by the Tulleries, which in the middle of a winter's night were really unimpressive, but that's okay because from there we went to the Comedie Francais. On the way we passed this chocolaterie that reminded me so much of the one from Chocolat that I had to a picture:
Mmmmm.....
Then of course we had to go the Rue de Richlieu where she lived. Now might be a good time to mention that I collect the original Scarlet Pimpernel books:
And while I haven't been able to confirm it recently, I thought at some point that she lived at #12 (though, given that it's me, it's just as likely to have been #21) so:
Having seen all the street sights we want to, we went home, stopping by our first bakery on the way. It must have been 10:00 or 11:00 by that time so almost everything was sold out for the day, but we managed to buy some bread...and had a totally cathartic, almost overwhelming experience as we took the first bite. You don't know what food is, or meant to be, until you try real French bread. I had no idea that plain bread could taste like that. And Bre, just in case you're reading this, we did hold a moment of silence in your honor, with a slice of bree.
Seeing as most of Day 6 wasted on the wrong train, we got to bed early in hopes of a better Day 7.
Day 7
Ah, Day 7. The day that I checked off my entire to-do list. That is, of course, if my to-do list consisted of "get cursed by a gypsy" and "break into a house in the Queen's Hamlet of Versailles" (I'm actually proud of that last one).
That morning we decided that we were going up to the Bell Tower (and yell "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!". Well, that was my plan at least). On the way, I found this inscribed on the ground in front of the cathedral:
Not too long after the Mistress of the Evil Eye left us, we realized that we'd been in line for over an hour and were only halfway through the outside line, so we cut our losses in order to have more time at Versailles. A momentous Nellie-occasion occurred as we left the train: she's never had a Big Mac before, and apparently people have been telling her that she needed to try one for years, so she decided she'd try one in Paris. There is a McDonald's just outside the Palace gates, and so we went in for Nellie's first Big Mac:
They change the menu and quality of McDonald's for whatever region they're in, so it was like eating real food instead of eating McDonald's "food". Almost.
The view leading up to Versailles is pretty incredible. The huge gates, the huger palace...it's all quite a tableau (sorry, I have to use French words to describe France). Observe:
We booked it out of there after that so we could make it to the Palace before it closed, but unfortunately they had closed everything but the gift shop by the time we made it back. 50 Euros later we started back for the train, and I was again stopped for directions. Once more, I tried to remain calm, realize that I did understand what she was asking me, and could answer her, but all that came out was "That way". The look on her face when I answered in English, though, was priceless. When we got to the trains they informed us that all drains lead to the ocean, I mean, all trains go to Paris and other than a long dinner that the French would call "relaxed" and Americans would call "slow", nothing much else happened on Day 7.
To start at "a very good place to start"...
That morning we decided that we were going up to the Bell Tower (and yell "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!". Well, that was my plan at least). On the way, I found this inscribed on the ground in front of the cathedral:
Et oui, it says "The Church of the Old Hotel God". Anyhoo...
Outside Notre Dame there are beggars, some that sit by the doors, and some that walk up and down the line to get into the Bell Tower. The line was particularly impressive that day, snaking around the side and back, and continuing for heaven knows how long inside the building. It was not moving quickly either. So we're standing there and this old woman is working her way down the line--without much success that I could see--and eventually gets to us. She opens in French by blessing our mothers (with the whole crossing us and everything) and proceeds to ask for money. Nellie says she doesn't have any cash, just card and after a long time the woman seems to get it and starts saying "Coins, coins, coins". Nellie just keeps saying "Sorry, no money" and then the woman turns to me--ME!--who was doing nothing (though perhaps that was the problem) and begins blinking her left eye at me about a mile a minute while furiously muttering/chanting in some strange language (that was not French or English) before she abruptly turns and walks away. I had Nellie check me for horns, wings or a tail when she left, but looks like I came out just fine, so we commemorated the occasion:
After all, how many times do you get cursed by a real gypsy?
Though I'll admit, I did call my mother to make sure she was okay.
Though I'll admit, I did call my mother to make sure she was okay.
Not too long after the Mistress of the Evil Eye left us, we realized that we'd been in line for over an hour and were only halfway through the outside line, so we cut our losses in order to have more time at Versailles. A momentous Nellie-occasion occurred as we left the train: she's never had a Big Mac before, and apparently people have been telling her that she needed to try one for years, so she decided she'd try one in Paris. There is a McDonald's just outside the Palace gates, and so we went in for Nellie's first Big Mac:
It wasn't bad.
They change the menu and quality of McDonald's for whatever region they're in, so it was like eating real food instead of eating McDonald's "food". Almost.
The view leading up to Versailles is pretty incredible. The huge gates, the huger palace...it's all quite a tableau (sorry, I have to use French words to describe France). Observe:
It was basically incredible. And because it doesn't appear that I can help myself:
We walked through the castle for like 5 seconds before we decided to cut out to the back for the Queen's Hamlet. Marie Antoinette was about 14 when she came to Versailles, and being a child, she wanted to play house, so they made her a village (hey, no one's ever accused the French of moderation):
Now, each of these house are well locked, and all the staircases (and most of the gardens) are in fact padlocked. Except one...
The gates to one of the above properties was on a simple latch, and I have to assume that if they didn't want me in there, they would've padlocked it. I mean, they have to know that Americans will be coming to visit. So, I entered the garden, took a quick look around, climbed to the top of one of the staircases, checked the door (that was locked) and came back down. Nellie had wisely moved away from the entrance so as not to draw attention to the fact that I was inside, so alas, no picture, but it's probably better to not have incriminating photos on one's website.
We booked it out of there after that so we could make it to the Palace before it closed, but unfortunately they had closed everything but the gift shop by the time we made it back. 50 Euros later we started back for the train, and I was again stopped for directions. Once more, I tried to remain calm, realize that I did understand what she was asking me, and could answer her, but all that came out was "That way". The look on her face when I answered in English, though, was priceless. When we got to the trains they informed us that all drains lead to the ocean, I mean, all trains go to Paris and other than a long dinner that the French would call "relaxed" and Americans would call "slow", nothing much else happened on Day 7.
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