Travel Diary - Versailles, France

Just two days before I bid Paris goodbye, I found myself standing at the golden gates of Versailles. I had never felt so underdressed in my life despite the fact that I was also standing in a sea of tourists adorned in puffer jackets, wool gloves, and knitted hats. To my knowledge, no one else in my program had visited Versailles since our arrival nearly two months prior to my visit there. I had actually been told to postpone my Versailles trip by more than one person. They told me to wait until the coming spring so that I could see the chateau in all of its beauty. And up until 48 hours before my departure back to the states, I took their advice.  Then I blatantly ignored it, packed a bag, asked a friend to come with me and walked to my nearest metro station.  Even with the doom and gloom cast over France with the coming of March, Versailles defied all expectations. 

I stood in the very same spot when I was five hand-in-hand with my parents. It was my first visit to Versailles. I have very faint memories of it being cold… too cold. I remember seeing the hall of mirrors and being held my dad so that I could see myself in them (as I was to short otherwise.) I remember thinking the bedrooms were very pretty with their flowers and their lace and that my footsteps were loud on the marble floors. We took a long carriage ride through the gardens and I spent most of it bundled up in a blanket and in my mother’s lap. We ended the day with a trip to the gift shop where I received a Marie Antoinette paper doll with three different options of pretty dresses. I was completely and utterly in love with it all and told my little five-year-old self that someday when I was a grown-up, I would return. I did nearly fourteen years later.

To others, Versailles was perhaps just like any other European chateau: stone and big and full of things that you weren’t allowed to touch or sit on. But to me, Versailles was like no other. In the courtyard, I swear I could hear the comforting clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, announcing an arriving carriage. In the Hall of Mirrors, I could see the reflection of courtiers hundreds of years ago peering back at me. And in the modern-day café within the castle’s walls, I could hear Marie Antoinette herself exclaiming “Let Them Eat Cake!” (Yes, I am aware that she never actually said that, but it served as my excuse to indulge myself and stop at nearly every single bakery I passed by while living in Paris.)

Something beckoned to me from inside its walls and I strained to hear it. There is something so hauntingly unreal about it all: the way the light reflected off the perfectly polished marble floors, how none of the subjects in the portraits on the walls looked particularly sad or happy, knowing that once a king and a queen resided in the very rooms that I stood in. Everything had been frozen in time. I half expected King Louis IV himself to pass by me on his way to issue a royal proclamation. Within my time in France, I had visited three other castles. None of them gave me the feeling that Versailles did. 

I could go on and on about the gardens. Though the shrubs were not the vibrant green I so often saw in Tumblr posts and most of the usually lively fountains were at bay, the view of the garden from one of the chambers was something out of a landscape painting. Perfectly pruned trees lined walkways ushered tourists down to a ridiculously large pond filled with the whitest of swans. Couples lay sprawled about on the lawns and picnic baskets filled to the brim with wines, cheeses, and baguettes. Every now and then I would hear the little ding of a bicycle bell in the distance. This was also nestled securely in the middle of a lush forest. 

Nearby, in the midst of the said forest, sits Le Petit Trianon. It was Marie Antoinette’s private residence, gifted to her by her husband. It could best be described as a Versailles for one. Each room was filled with furniture and curtains made out of the most delicate fabrics. Their colors resembled that of a box of macaroons. One room would be a robin egg blue and the next, the brightest hue of yellow. The building itself was a delightful shade of pink marble which was a stark contrast to the black and white marble floors of its most infamous walkway. I nearly slipped on that same walkway twice in an attempt to take pictures. All of it was fit for a queen. 

So my advice to you? If you want to see something, then go see it. Yes, that one post on Pinterest can tell you when crowds may be the lowest or when flowers may be the brightest but your adventures will be what you make them. The last 48 hours I spent in France turned out to be the most memorable. Thank you for making me feel like royalty Versailles! The only let down? Marie Antoinette’s wing was under construction. It just gives me another reason to return. I'm already planning my next visit.