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).

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.

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.