Versailles. Few tourists are more intimately acquainted with Versailles than I. I say this with conviction because few tourists have actually spent 17 consecutive hours in Versailles when they were not hopelessly lost or drowning in a fountain, of which there are 26.
Et voila, the saga begins. Day 5 of our bestie trip: the death march of Versailles.
We started with the bike tour. Blue Fox travels staffs friendly Frenchies, full of fun, energy, and sarcasm. Cecelia is our guide, and she is spectacular. A bubbling fountain of knowledge, she knows all the stories and scandals and keeps us entertained. She's so good, you almost forget you're learning something.
The tour starts in town. There is an extensive market, a line of stalls snaking through multiple streets. We throw it all into saddle bags and ride towards a picnic near the Grand Canal.
The picnic is horrible. The food is fantastic, but eating it in a field of wasps is not what the brochure described. And they're not harmless bumblebees. These things are bloodthirsty - they buzz right by the sugary desserts and go straight for the meat. One stings me while I'm not even moving, and the welt swells, inflammation that travels downward for several days.
Still, the food is fantastic, what few bites I got to have. The jambon de bayonne is the French cured ham, and there's nothing better on a baguette. There is also a lip-smacking saucisson sec with hazelnuts.
Our cheeses have melted, but it just makes them more like fondue. There is a Rocamadour chevre that is more pungent but still soothing. There is another little nub, but I can't recall what it was called. And finally, there is a soft goat cheese that crumbles into milky bites of ash.
We even got dessert. The best bakery in town, according to the security guards who saw the box. The name escapes me, but the green awning is easy to spot. There are two giant macarons. The coffee is good, but the chocolate is better .Then the Eclair a la Violette. WOW. The icing on top exudes a sweet fragrance, and the filling is a breeze of brushy petals that flirt with the senses.
We move towards the Grand Trianon and Petit Trianon with full bellies.
There aren't a lot of photo ops - the colors are pretty flamboyant, but the Queen's Hameau doesn't disappoint.
Love the pseudo-rustic cottages...
And how about this lighthouse...in the middle of a tiny lake.
Finally, we reach the golden gates.
We start with the daytime Grandes Eaux Musicales, where the fountains flow to the strains of classical music.
We marvel at the gardens first, and then we make our way inside.
Every inch of the this chateau is covered with something grand. Every corner is gilded, and every ceiling is ornately painted with murals by the masters.
But there is nothing in the world more grand than the hall of mirrors. The photos do no justice - you literally can't breathe for a moment after you step in, and even though it's my second time, it's still like a walking into a fairytale.
Crepe break. Definition: the crepe au sucre you scarf down to get you through the remaining death march, as you set off into an interminable journey into the gardens for Les Grandes Eaux Nocturnes.
I mentioned earlier that there are 26 fountains in Versailles. We saw 24 of them during Les Grandes Eaux Nocturnes. No two are alike, and no two are even similar. They range from a simple upright...
They even light up several fountains, and the water dances as it glows.
The fountains are magical at night. The entire garden looks enchanted, and the grand chateau in the background only adds to the grandeur. My feet and legs do sorely regret the 30,000 steps we logged on my FitBit, but the memories might be worth it.
