After the first great sleep we’d all had in 3 years, Nanny Rigsby was up and out and off to the Palace of Versailles at 630am. I’d been before and it seemed like it was going to be a real ‘to-do’ with the baby so I opted out this time around.
I really wanted to see the Petit Trianon where Marie Antoinette spritzed her sheep with perfume. It was closed the last time I went. But apparently the best way to get there from the main palace was by bike. Not happening avec le bebe. But it’s so pretty there, I decided to just include a few photos of Versailles anyway.
THE HALL OF MIRRORS
After our morning croissant with Michael, the baby and I, with a spring in our step, walked all the way down the Seine, through the Tuileries to Place de la Concorde (where Marie Antoinette was beheaded in keeping with the theme of this post). As we skipped under the perfectly manicured trees on the edge of the Tuileries, it hit me. Michael is going to be the Resident Director of Les Misérables. And we are in Paris. We found out this fantastic news while in Paris. It made me weepy for a minute. I know I know…silly, but we’ve been so stressed for so long and here we are in Paris…and we find out our lives are going to be changed by the most Frenchy French French story there is.
Keeping this in mind I crossed the Seine and walked the entire length of the famous, prestigious Boulevard Saint-Germain until I ran into something you can’t find anywhere but Paris…l’Île Saint-Louis.
There are 2 islands in the middle of the Seine in Paris, Île de la Cité and l’Ile St Louis. Ile de la Cite houses the first settlers of Paris so it is very special (at least that’s what the lady on the boat tour said). It also houses Notre Dame built in the 1100s and finished in the 1300s. I think the Conciergerie is on l’Ile de la Cite as well. This is where Marie Antoinette was imprisoned before her execution—jeeeeeze—enough about her already!
L’Ile St. Louis houses very posh people, with very posh houses and very nice ice cream shops. That’s what you do when you walk over there (there is no metro stop on the island), you step back in time onto these tiny, pristine streets and you eat ice cream. The baby, however, took a different approach and channeled his inner Jean Valjean by shoplifting a stuffed frog out of a teeny tiny eetsy beeetsy little toy shop. I have no idea how he did it AND I didn’t even see it until it came flying out of the stroller a good 10 minutes after we left the shop. That’s a promising start for a young life.
I should also mention that he danced in the park behind Notre Dame to a jazz band with an audience of older ladies. Ice cream and hearts melted.