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| Fountainbleu |
The royal palace at Fountainbleu is both beautiful and sad. It is certainly overwhelming. Imagine the mindset of people who would create such ostentatious surroundings for themselves. Today they are amazing to gaze upon but one can’t help but remember that for every king and queen and emperor and princess who lived here, there were thousands, tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people living in poverty. There is something cruel in such self-entitlement. Truth be told today is not so much more an enlightened age. Look at the rise of the multi-billionaire class at a time when to be middle class can mean living paycheck-to-paycheck. Yep, life is brutally unfair and it is the haves disregard for the have-nots that is and has been a primary factor.
We took a train from Paris to the city of Avon. It was a lovely fifty-minute ride, some of it through the beautiful French countryside and a lot of it past small cities and towns. It was nice — however briefly — to get away from the big city. There is a bus that takes one from the train station to Fountainbleu. We stupidly and mistakenly got off much too early forcing ourselves into yet another long walk. Afterwards we were glad for our hasty mistake. As it afforded us a tour through a more provincial part of France. We strolled past residences and businesses all colorful in their own ways. As the travelogues used to always announce: “it’s a combination of the old and the new.”
The grounds at Fountainbleu are magnificent and they are being kept up as nicely as during the the palace's heyday (from the 1630s through the mid 1800s). Manicured lawns, lovely trees, hedges and gardens surround and bisect the buildings. There was much to see inside including faithful recreations of bedchambers, antechambers, conference rooms, children’s rooms, salons. Much of the actual furniture from the time was on display.
The royals tastes were garish. Every wall, every ceiling, every carpet had to be ornate. Even cradles were meticulously and lavishly decorated. Napoleon had matching everything in his bedroom and it all seemed too much. But the royals were not one for half measures.
Napoleon is a focus of the tour. Artifacts from his life and portraits of him and his wives and family are everywhere. He is a fascinating historical figure and I applaud the French for not hiding from his legacy but for better or worse embracing his seminal role in French history.
We took the bus back to the train station, this time being sure to wait until the end of the line before getting off. The return trip was as enjoyable as the journey there. Back in Paris we dined at a restaurant across from the Gare ’d Lyon train station. The food was delicious but the waiter contemptuous. When I asked for ketchup he said, “of course” as if I was confirming that I was a backwards American.
We opted for a cab home and our driver was the mirror opposite of the waiter. Though he spoke virtually no English he made every effort to enthusiastically communicate with us. At one point he reeled off the name of American authors. I responded by naming some of my favorite French directors and writers. He was duly impressed and called me an “intellectual.”
Tuesday we decided to take it a little easier, doing a load of laundry and lounging around the apartment. We did get out for a walk down the Champs-Élysées which has morphed into the Parisian version of Times Square. Not worth the effort. However the walk ended at the Arc de Triomphe which I find to be a magnificent structure. A huge and hugely impressive outdoor museum piece.
For dinner we found an Italian restaurant that provided us with what has been our best meal of the trip. I had pasta with all manner of selfish “frutti di mare.” The three flavors of sherbet for dessert were perfect. The two proprietors — likely a husband and wife — didn’t seem to care much for people. It was not just us as Americans who they treated with barely contained contempt, they didn’t seem to care for any of their customers. C’est la vie.
Yesterday we went to the Picasso museum and you’ll never guess whose works they featured. In addition to the grand old master there was a display of Faith Ringgold’s work, an African American artist whose work from the ‘60s and ’70’s I particularly admire. I could roll out the adjectives for the art we saw there but will spare the reader.
Next we strolled around various boulevards, streets and lanes, always enjoyable in Paris. Then we repaired to our apartment for a brief rest before visiting the botanical gardens. Another Parisian delight.
Today is our last day in Paris. Tomorrow it’s off to London.
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