,
My sister had
entrusted her 12 year old daughter to her older, wacky, slightly immature
sibling for the kid’s first overseas trip to Europe. And what do I promptly do?
I go ahead and lose the kid amongst the
crowds in Versailles. How did all of this happen? How do you just randomly lose a kid? Yikes!!
Let me start at the beginning….
 |
| The road leading to Versailles |
My niece, voracious reader that she was, was currently
obsessed with the French Revolution and had immersed herself in 18th
century Court life, devouring endless biographies of her favourite Queen,
Austrian born Marie-Antoinette, hence her insistence that I take her to see the
opulent palace of Versailles. The Chateau de Versailles, originally built as
Louis XIII’s hunting lodge, was later expanded and converted into the primary
residence of French royalty, spanning an impressive 977 acres. Housing well over 700 rooms, this UNESCO World
Heritage site was an ostentatious symbol of France’s vast economic and
political power as well as an embodiment of royal absolutism. Showcased to impress foreign dignitaries as
well as the local populace, Versailles did not disappoint, and to this day, continues
to mesmerize old and young alike.
So it was on a hot, humid and sweltering August day that
we found ourselves crushed in a throng of what seemed to be hundreds, if not
thousands of visitors, all lined up waiting to purchase tickets to gain
entrance to this magnificent and pretentious edifice. Admission is free for those under 18 years of
age and so I only had to fork over 25 Euros “pour moi” for the opportunity to stroll amongst the royals and
pretend that Versailles was my overseas palatial summer retreat.
Standing in line for well over an hour, glistening sweat
cascading down my back, I cursed myself for having gotten us into this
predicament. It’s my fault, really, for
I had overslept, my niece begging and pleading incessantly, “Please wake up, Auntie Nora, pleeeeease, pleeeeeease, pleeeeeease get up NOW!!”,
as we had a late morning date with the aristocracy.
Huffing and
puffing, sprinting for the 11:00am train to transport us to Versailles, we barely
had a chance to place our pink sneakered feet into the carriage car, when it
promptly shut its doors, leaving us stranded on the now empty platform. Hence our arrival two hours later than scheduled,
squished like a sardine in the ever growing queue, having to further endure the
unforgiving heat beaming mercilessly on our soon to be roasted sunburned skin.
After what seemed to be hours, we finally gained
admittance to the palace and were instantaneously seduced, spellbound under its
splendiferous pretentiousness. Words do not do justice to the grandeur of the
rows of chandeliers, dripping light in the luminous Hall of Mirrors. The gilded ballroom was also where
Marie-Antoinette’s masked ball wedding reception was held, a spectacle so
magnificent one can rightly say that it was indeed a fitting venue for a
princess and a future queen. Primarily
utilized for greeting foreign dignitaries and hosting diplomatic receptions,
the impressive Hall of Mirrors is also where the Treaty of Versailles was
signed on June 28th, 1919, thus ending the First World War.
Instructing the kid to stay close to Auntie Nora and to not
wander off, I tried to keep one hawk eye glued to my niece while at the same
time attempting to snap pictures of every bedazzled nook and cranny of this
sumptuous Chateau. The last thing I wanted was to lose the kid amongst the
masses and have to devote the remainder of the day to frantically searching for
her whereabouts.
Fascinated by the luxuriously decorated chambers and
compartments, my niece was especially taken with the lavish apartments of
Marie-Antoinette, squealing in delight with finally having the fortune to walk
in the footsteps of her heroine and experience for herself all that she had
read in the history books about the Austrian former princess’ daily life at the
castle. Gawking in disbelief at the
sumptuous drapery, tapestries and ornately patterned wallpaper, the kid was
unable to contain her delight at being witness to a fragment of long ago aristocratic
life. Wistfully gazing at the gilded
chaises and mirrored daybed in Le Cabinet de la Meridienne, my niece was lost
in 18th century France, wondering what it would have been like to
have actually met the famous Queen and been a maiden in her Court.
Momentarily distracted by the swarm of people descending
upon the salon, I struggled to hold my camera high above my head, determined to
capture pictures that didn’t reveal snapshots of unknown tourists’ heads and
bodies, all jostling for that National Geographic picture worthy moment.
Having failed at obtaining an image worth a thousand words,
scanning the overcrowded room for my niece, my heart momentarily stopped
beating as I froze in terror, unable to glimpse the kid. Gulp. Yikes!! Now what??
To be continued….come with me as I leave no stone unturned in my
desperate search for the kid, lost somewhere amongst a mere 700 rooms on this
sprawling palatial estate….
Did you know facts or legends about Marie-Antoinette and the
Chateau de Versailles?
I read somewhere that the ill-fated Queen glimpsed her
“headless” reflection in a mirror and saw this as an ominous forewarning of her
beheading.
Climbing the scaffold, she accidentally stepped on her
executioner’s foot, her last words being “Pardon me sir, I meant not to do it”.
The phrase “Let them eat cake” has been widely associated with
having been spoken by Marie-Antoinette, when she was told that the peasants
were starving and had no bread to feast upon. It is unknown whether or not this is a true
fact or merely fabrication, as this quote can be found in an 18th
century book by Rousseau entitled “Les Confessions”, a loosely-based autobiography of the famous
Queen, in which he refers to a “great princess” as having uttered those damning
words.
Next week: The search is on....where is the kid??
Next week: The search is on....where is the kid??
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