It's About Damn Time: Old Ruins, New Sights

Part 2 of 2 concerning Provençal cities, towns, and villages... Let's get the ball rolling in not-quite-alphabetical order.

Avignon

For "les vacanes de Toussaint" (the vacation surrounding All Saint's Day in France), I decided that I would return to a small city along the Rhône called Arles to visit all of the tourist spots I did not have the chance to see the first time around. I knew that there were buses that went there, but I had no idea which buses they were, so I conducted a little research and came to the conclusion that the best way (read: cheapest) to get to Arles via bus was to go up to Avignon first and then catch a bus down and over to Arles -- a little out of the way, sure, but it was not so out of the way as to completely inconvenience the traveler. (I later found out that there is a direct bus from Aix to Arles, but, alas, I learned this vital piece of information too late.)

This was really not a problem for me. I was delighted to have the opportunity to see another Provençal city and get a little more history out of the trip than I had originally planned.

Enter Avignon.

Literally a row of restaurants on the Place de l'Horloge

Yet another small town in the south of France that has been around forever, Avignon is particularly well-known for its Palais des Papes, which is by no means a misnomer. During the 14th century, a series of popes took up residence in Avignon, wishing to avoid the violence and political instability in Rome, and as such, were drawn further and further under the influence of the French crown. Which, you know, makes sense considering that all seven popes who lived in Avignon were, uh... French.

So, Clement V took up residence in Avignon in 1309, and since Avignon was clearly not the religious center that Rome was (is, if we're including the Vatican City in Rome), they didn't have a papal palace yet, meaning that Clement V was humble enough to pass the time in a Dominican monastery. His successor, however, began reconstructing a nearby bishop's palace by turning it into something that really makes one question the whole "vow of poverty" thing that members of the clergy live by.

It's not mine; I just live here and reap the glorious benefits

A hefty portion of the papal funds, which I am pretty certain could have been used for more productive things than building a palace (unless they are building it to glorify God - then I suppose we can't really fault them because that would be something like finding fault in or dishonoring God, and that's a no-no), went to building this gargantuan house under Popes Benedict XII, Clément VI, Innocent VI, and Urban V. Clément VI and Innocent VI contributed significantly to the expansion of the palace while Urban V pretty much put the finishing touches on the whole building. Finishing touches such as ceramic floor tiles, fantastic frescoes that adorned the walls and ceilings, and basically lots and lots of color. During the papal occupation, this place would have been more colorful than a rainbow on acid. Unfortunately, all that is left of that magnificent color today are a few tiles and faded, crumbling frescoes and painted walls.

Basically, this place was pretty darn impressive (nothing to Saint Peter's in Rome, I'm sure, but still - not bad) with its grand dining halls and large stained glass windows and Gothic ribbed vaults.

The second place of interest is not far from the papal palace and is nowhere near as magnificent, and yet somehow still as spectacular. It is a bridge: the Pont Saint-Bénezet. This medieval bridge once spanned the Rhône, connecting the city to Villeneuve-lès-Avignon, but suffered from what can essentially be boiled down to bad construction and collapsed several times over the following centuries. It was rebuilt and rebuilt until finally they decided to stop preventing what fate had clearly been telling them for years was meant to be in 1668 when the bridge was virtually washed away by a flood. Today, the vestiges of this once-jinxed bridge are a major tourist destination for people in Avignon, and it's no wonder why. Just look at the views you can get from the bridge:

I wonder if people in the Middle Ages ever stopped to appreciate this same view? Well, minus the sidewalk...

I wonder if the Avignon popes ever admired the view from here? Well, minus the cars...

The bridge itself is pretty cool as well since it just ends in the middle of the river, leaving the uninformed tourist more than just a little curious as to the history behind the ruins.

See that patch of trees just beyond the bridge? That is where the rest of the bridge SHOULD be.

The rest of Avignon didn't strike me as much more than a typical, small French city. That said, I was there for less than a day, so I really wasn't able to take much of the city in, and I enjoyed what I was able to see... but at the end of the day, I was looking forward to reaching my final destination of Arles.

Arles


For someone such as me who loves classical civilizations, Arles is a must-see city. While it is small enough that it can be walked in less than a day and completely exhausted of its treasures in two to three days, it has enough charm and history attached to it to make it worth any weekend getaway, especially when one is in the mood for a small French town.

I first visited Arles as part of an international student tour group and spent a grand total of two, maybe three hours there before being carted off to my next destination. And so I had had it in my mind to make a trip up to Arles at some point during my travels within France. The Toussaint vacation seemed to be the perfect time, so off I went to discover the ancient Roman ruins and the old haunts of everyone's favorite ear-cutting Impressionist.

Like many French cities that have any history at all (read: all of them, duh), Arles is a strange mix of styles and centuries. You can walk along the Rhône and run across the ancient Roman baths built by Constantine, who was a huge fan of the Roman colony, which as far as I can tell went by the name of Arlate back in the day. Then, you can turn to your left and see some nifty modern graffiti on the side of a low wall hiding a dumpster. Walk a little further down and you can spot a ruined wall left over from what might have been an attack during a world war. And let us not forget Les Alyscamps across town, comprised of an ancient Roman necropolis and a medieval Christian church.

Exterior shot of the Thermes de Constantin

Interior shot

"Insure yourself against chance. One look comes so quickly."

The black and white was too irresistible of an option to pass up for this shot.

I have a thing for empty sepulchers and abandoned churches

Arles is a haven for history buffs. Its streets and far corners are laden with centuries upon centuries of rich European history and it is impossible to navigate the narrow streets without chancing upon yet another story pertaining to Arles's 2800 or so years of existence.

My favorite sites, though, focused on the Roman vestiges and the scenic reminders of Van Gogh's beautifully colored French village. The antiquities museum on the outskirts of "centre ville" is well worth the trip for an in-depth look at the development of the city, with plenty of artifacts to sate one's appetite for Roman sculpture, Early Christian iconography, and pottery galore. While I was there, it just so happened that special exhibition centered around an archeological dig done at the bottom of the Rhône not far from Arles. The city had been a major mercantile mecca for people from all over Europe, and as a result, researchers found remains of various types of amphorae and other types of pottery whose names are escaping me at the moment from countries all over the Mediterranean. Since I vaguely understand the importance of such archeological treasures, I had fun comparing the minute differences (and the glaringly obvious ones, as well) between amphorae from select countries and even across continents.

I was even able to study for a midterm while at this museum. My medieval archeology class from last semester focused on Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, which is when France was subjected to a widespread Christianization of cities and rural areas. Sarcophagi dating from this period are the perfect visual aides for understanding early Christian iconography and the general transition to a monotheistic society.

And then, the ancient theater and arena. Which are best discussed in picture form.

See those columns? Now imagine that the set was twice as high. Oh, yeah. Theater geek's wet dream. Or nightmare.

It's almost like a graveyard. Which pleases my inner creepiness.

This colosseum is still used today

View of Arles from the top of the tower

Oh, and let's not forget our dearly beloved friend Van Gogh!!!!

L'Espace Van Gogh: the hospital where Van Gogh once lived

I made friends with the waiter my first day in Arles. He invited me back to the restaurant the next day, so I returned with the friends I had met in my hostel. Hope he appreciated the business.

Louis the Lucky Duck

If I lived somewhere with a garden like this

I am certain I would never want to leave. Versailles is worth the visit for this tiny corner of the royal gardens alone. I'm not even including the fountains and the hidden speakers in the walls of shrubbery that play classical music and the perfectly white marble statues and the vividly colored flowers. Heck, I'm not even talking about the parks that extend outside of the initial manicured gardens. I refer merely to what is included in this picture here. I would be content with this for a lifetime.

It boggles the mind to think that this once belonged to a single man. To be fair, he was the leader of an entire nation, but, hey, Obama is the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world, and he doesn't have a garden like this.

Let's continue with our pretty pictures tour, shall we?

The Royal Gate - Read: the second of two gates leading to the château

The chapel

Strange Japanese statue in front of overly ornate door

The Hall of Mirrors, part 1

The Hall of Mirrors, part 2

I spent a fair amount of time being herded through room after room after room of absolute magnificence by the crowds of people.

Originally, I had planned upon heading out to Versailles early that morning with several others on the program so that we could beat the crowd and have the château to ourselves. However, the previous night of partying in Paris (during which I nearly caused a fight at a discothèque, as you may recall) and my complete inability to get out of bed in a timely manner meant that there was no way in this life or in any other that I would be catching the 8:19 am train out to Versailles. Nope. Nuh uh. It just was not in the cards for me. (I later learned that some people had managed to get up and get on the early train - Bravo, I say!)

Instead, I caught the 10:19 am train and arrived about 45 minutes later at the train station. I had done some research on how to get there a day or two before, so I knew that getting there was quite simple: take the RER to the end of the line, get off, walk a little bit, and then begin drooling over the pretty. What I failed to remember to do in my research, though, was to figure out that little walking bit. I had, of course, looked at the train station on the map to gain a sense of how far away it was from the actual château, but upon seeing that it was roughly a five minute walk or less, and there did not seem to any tricky twists or turns, I did not do any further exploration of this map. Thus, when I arrived at the station, I was completely lost. I had been under the impression that all I needed to do was walk out of the station, look around, spot Versailles, and begin marching toward it. I had also been under the impression that the train station would not be surrounded by buildings but would instead be right on the edge of the Versailles property. This was not the case. The station is in the town, about a block away from the palace, and the one is not visible from the other. 

Thankfully, just about everyone else on the train with me had the same destination in mind, so it took me about a microsecond to figure out that I merely needed to follow the mob of fellow tourists to reach my goal. From there, it became a matter of standing in lines to gain access to the museum and parks. I was fortunate enough to miss the really large crowds, which showed up about half an hour after I did, but I still had to wait about 45 minutes total (30 to get my ticket and another 15 to enter the grounds proper) before I could actually begin exploring to my heart's content.

I spent about an hour and a half strolling through the place on my own, spending as much or as little time as I wanted in each room. There were always people around, though, and I thus felt obliged to not linger too long in one place - it somehow seemed rude in my eyes.

My favorite room, without a doubt, was the Hall of Mirrors. I spent more time there than anywhere else in the interior of the château. It is also probably the largest room open to visitors in the building, so it lends reason to my directly proportionally increased amount of time spent there. I love sunlight and being surrounded by natural light, so this room was like a dream come true. Upon my arrival, the sky, with its clouds a darker grey than I had ever seen in the sky, had been threatening to pour down on everyone unfortunate enough to be caught waiting in line, which had included me. Luckily, though, by the time I reached the Hall of Mirrors, the rain clouds had, for the most part, gone off to unleash their drenching fury elsewhere, leaving behind happy fluffy clouds and intermittent patches of sun. This meant that the room was fantastically bright and lovely. The light flooded in through the grand windows and the golden statues holding aloft the magnificent candelabras gleamed.

Pictured: Gleaming golden statues holding aloft magnificent candelabras

Louis XIV probably never realized just how freaking lucky he was to wake up in this bed:

Pictured: A bed (literally) fit for a king.

and then walk out though his bedchamber into the Hall of Mirrors before throwing open the windows and gazing out over his magnificent gardens every morning. (I imagine that this is what he did every morning, weather permitting, because I certainly would have.)

WHICH REMINDS ME.

The gardens. Hands down the most amazing place I have ever been to. I spent more time meandering through those gardens and parks than I did inside any of the residences.

After my trip to the palace of Versailles, I ate a quick lunch of a provençal sandwich on foccacia bread, which was an excellent combination, along with "un coca" (I'm pretty sure that you can no longer go anywhere without running into Coca-Cola) and a slice of apple pie at the local café at the museum. I then decided that it was high time I took advantage of the "passeport" ticket that I had purchased which allowed me to visit not only the gardens and parks, but the adjacent properties that had once belonged to other members of the royal family, including Marie Antoinette. On my journey through the royal chambers of Louis XIV, I had, of course, glimpsed the greenery that was to come, but it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

The first thing I noticed as I entered what really amounts to a gargantuan backyard was the faint vibrations of classical music drifting through the air. I wondered to myself where this music could be coming from because it seemed as though an actual orchestra might be just around the corner or down the next flight of stairs. I discovered, to a bizarre melange of dismay and joy that there was no grand orchestra set up in the gardens, playing for my listening pleasure, but, instead, that there were small but powerful speakers hidden away in the giant walls of shrubbery such as the ones pictured below.

A shrubbery that Mom would be proud of

 This meant that the classical music was everywhere you went in the gardens. It did not extend as far as the parks, which are actually open to the public, but the gardens are massive enough that you can spend hours there, moving from fountain to fountain and from musical piece to musical piece. There exist a plethora of alcoves and pathways which play their own specific pieces of music - which is fantastic if you want to hop from piece to piece, but can also be aggravating when you are on the verge of recognizing a piece only to have it turn into something else as you head 'round the corner.

Now, initially, I headed off to the left of the property, where the plants were all perfectly manicured into small swirls of green, punctuated with flowers such as these:

However, I soon headed back for the main path that sloped down from the château. I believe it was then that I first noticed the pure white marble statues lining the central walkway. My inner art history nerd began to hyperventilate from the sheer number of new works to examine - only this time, I could examine them out in broad daylight instead of in moderately lit museums. Again, the question crept into my mind as to whether Louis XIV ever truly realized how totally awesome his life at Versailles had to have been. I mean, the dude has a copy of the Laocoon sculpture, which is one of the most legit pieces of art ever. On a scale of one to holy-crap-they-just-don't-do-art-like-that-anymore, the Laocoon is divine magnificence. In fact, I don't even think Medusa could turn people into stone with the same sort of realism and ideal proportions as the Laocoon. Anyway. My nerd is showing.

What I am trying to say is that walking down through the main gallery to the Apollo fountain is such a treat: gorgeous flowers, epic classical music, and plenty of classical statues with fig leaves over their nether regions to keep this a family affair.

I took my time moving through the gardens, but did not do too much to stray from the central path because I had a sneaking suspicion that one wrong turn, and it would suddenly be worse than the third task of the Triwizard Tournament: walls of shrubbery closing in around me, a sphinx with some annoying riddle, and one wrong decision to touch some cool looking object, and suddenly I'm in a graveyard, watching Ralph Finnes prance around evilly, and trying not to make fun of his lack of a nose.

Thankfully, it appears that stuff only happens in England so I did not have to see any Dark Lords regain a corporeal form.

I did, however, manage to get ever so slightly lost. On my way over to the domain of Marie Antoinette, I managed to completely overshoot my target entrance by taking the wrong tree-lined path. The map I had with me was not very helpful, either, because it was rather difficult to approximate my location relative to the giant canal running through the grand park. So I ended up travelling backwards through the Trianon and the domain of Marie Antoinette. It probably did not make much of a difference, though, because both places were somewhat boring. The Trianon was spectacular in that each room was perfectly color coordinated, but by then my interests in the interiors of buildings had ever so slightly waned.

Eventually, I headed back toward the direction of Versailles, again overshooting my destination such that I was back at the opposite end of the gardens from the Apollo fountain at a set of three fountains to the right of the Versailles establishment.

Lucky for me, though, I had arrived just in time for the fountains to turn on. Earlier that afternoon, they had been quiet, but now they were alive and made the place all the more amazing to my impressionable young mind. Now I was content to wander and lose myself in the mazes of plants, following only my instinct and the sound of falling water. I saw some pretty darn cool stuff.

Yeah it's pretty darn cool

This is even cooler

The fountain that took the cake, though, had to be the mirror fountain with "jets d'eau" that danced in perfectly synchronized time to pieces of classical music. I happened upon this fountain just about half an hour before the gardens closed for the day and figured this was too cool to pass up. So I completely ignored the "keep off the grass" sign, took a seat on the grass, and began watching the water show. I was severely distracted by the pretty for a good quarter of an hour.

Imagine that you can also hear a piano sonata or two right now. Then feel like one classy dude.

I managed to accomplish a goal of mine that day: stay at a museum until closing. After the piece that I was listening to (which might have been German, now that I think about it, but who knows) had finished, the show was over, the fountains were shut off, and everyone was ushered out of the garden by a gentle female voice that kindly informed us in three languages that the palace was closing and everyone needed to GTFO. I made my way back through the rows and rows of plants to the first terrace of manicured green and proceeded to follow the mass exodus out through the gates, casting strange glances at the people who were still trying to get inside the gardens even though visiting hours had clearly ended for the day.

Versailles was absolutely worth the money I had to spend to see everything. I wore myself out so much trying to catch a glimpse of as much as I could that I napped between stops on the train ride back.

All in all, wandering around a royal estate on one's own for a day and never quite knowing where you are going but always knowing exactly where you are is, in my opinion, the best way to see Versailles. Just go and explore. There will always be something to take your breath away.

Special Edition: FLOWERS

The gang and I all went to Giverny (about an hour northwest of Paris) today to visit the house and gardens of Claude Monet. The house is pretty darn cool, but photographs were forbidden inside the house, so I have nothing to show for it save the exterior shot above. However, his magnificent gardens and the "nymphéas célèbres" were all there for my photographing pleasure. Below are some of the best. Enjoy!

Ahhh, La France

So I've been in France for a week now. Which means that I have indeed started my study abroad program. Which also means that I am currently in Paris. Which also means that I owe y'all an entry about the city of light and of love.

To be honest, there is way, way too much to share with you.

So let's start with the flight to Paris: not at all as stressful as I was thinking it was going to be. I was mildly terrified by the prospect of flying all the way across the ocean to lands unknown. What if something was wrong with my visa (especially after all the work I went to to get it)? What if they lost my luggage? And what could I expect when I attempted to communicate with the Parisians? Would they instantly recognize my accent as American and insist upon speaking to me in English?

In fact, I did not need to worry about any of that. My visa was fine. My luggage arrived safely. And the Parisians are nothing but helpful and patient when I am speaking to them.

The flight to Paris took about six and a half hours, which is trying on one's nerves when there are small children roaming about the cabin (seriously, parents of the world, it's called a seat belt and a little melatonin), but short enough for a good nap if one had the extraordinary ability to fall asleep on planes. I say "extraordinary" because I cannot fall asleep on planes. So, in general, the flight was about the same amount of time it takes to fly non-stop from Boston to San Diego. The Air France flight attendants were very nice and gave us dinner and breakfast. The dinner menu looked a little something like this:

I enjoyed the "Pâtes orzo au curry et poulet grillé" and the "Pâtes penne à la provençale" along with everything else you see listed there and a little wine to accompany the food. Surprisingly good for airplane food... but perhaps not surprising since it is Air France and France is known for their cuisine. Also, I find it interesting that the word for cheesecake in French is... "cheesecake." Breakfast, on the other hand, was nothing special, so I'm skipping over it.

Our hotel is what is known as an "apart'hotel" because it was designed for people who plan to be vacationing in a certain spot for a lengthy period of time. Named the Citadines Paris Saint-Germain-des-Prés, our particular apart'hotel is right in the heart of Paris, or "le coeur de Paris." One can walk from our residence to la cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris in one direction, or go down to le Musée du Louvre in the other other direction, or simply take a lovely stroll along the Seine. And, in fact, I have done all of these things. Here are some pretty pictures:

The view from my room:

The Venus de Milo, which is, in my opinion, a much better example of feminine beauty than any beanpole of a supermodel walking runway today:

La Victoire de Samothrace (Nike of Samothrace), the most beautiful sculpture ever created in the history of art:

The friggin' ceiling in the Louvre, which, I should remind you, was once a royal residence, so what your seeing here used to be the ceiling for the apartments of French royalty, and these over-the-top ceiling decorations are EVERYWHERE. Honestly, it is worth going to the Louvre just to look at the ceiling:

The interior of Notre Dame, which is really hard to get a good picture of when they don't do a lot to light up the place and the natural light coming in through the stained glass is not super strong:

Detail of the flying buttresses of the cathedral taken from the Square de Jean XXIII:

Oh, yeah, I should definitely mention that all of these photos were taken with my camera by me. It is entirely possible to take epic photos of Paris with a simple digital camera because Paris is that awesome.

Ok, pretty pictures have been shared. So what else have I been up to? Well, let's see... I took a boat ride along the Seine to see some of the best sights in the city from the water, ate dinner on the Eiffel Tower, wandered around le Marais, a neighborhood in Paris which roughly translates to "the Swamp," traversed the Île de la Cité and the Île Saint Louis, where you can find Notre Dame and some of the finest ice cream ("la glace") in Paris, spent an afternoon shopping along Boulevard Saint Germain and Boulevard Saint Michel, explored the Latin Quarter, ate at sidewalk cafés nearly every day, including Les Deux Magots (The Two Figurines... aptly named for the two statues in the restaurant) - an old haunt of Ernest Hemingway and others belonging to the Lost Generation - visited a French bar, got lost in the city with friends while looking for said bar, tried 20 types of cheese and 6 types of wine in the course of four hours or so...

Yeah, I've been exhausted at the end of each day. And there are still two more weeks in Paris! There is still so much to see!

I must be frank with you, though. I did not fall in love with Paris until Friday. It took me nearly a week to fall in love with a city that I have been dying to see since I was quite young.

I think it is because, if I truly want to appreciate a city, I have to explore it on my own. I need to wander the streets and lose myself in a new culture. I need to see the sights and hear the sounds of the city at my own pace. This becomes complicated when so many activities are scheduled and I tour the city in a large tourist group of students. This is a fantastic way to learn about the history of the city, but you essentially only discover the tourist spots, or the places that the tour guide knows and loves. That's all fine and dandy since I've never been to France before, but if I am going to be living in this country for the next nine months, I want to get to know it on my own terms. I want to go to restaurants and shops and be treated like any other resident of France. Now, obviously, that won't always happen because I have an American accent when I speak French, and I am not totally fluent yet, but I want to feel more like a person and less like A Tourist. I mean, it's fine if people can tell right away that I am American, but I am here to absorb a culture and learn a language, and that is harder to do when one is attached to seventeen other Americans who are sightseeing with me.

And I was able to do that on Friday. After my French Civilization crash course, I took off from the Citadines and went exploring. I saw Notre Dame on my own, bought some cookies from a little pâtisserie on the Île Saint Louis, where I conversed with the sales clerk in French. I bought a little ice cream cone from a ice cream stand attached to a Salon de Thé and took my time walking through the streets and taking in the sights of the ancient city around me. No one asked me if I spoke French or English. I was even able to tell a family of tourists how to get to the nearest metro station. I felt totally accomplished as an independent student abroad in a new country.

And so, from that, I slowly began to fall in love with "La Ville de Lumière" and its narrow streets and creamy white stone buildings and tiny balconies adorned with flowers and gold-tipped gates and jazz musicians who set up shop in the middle of a pedestrian bridge:

Oh, and, yes, I have purchased fresh baguettes and a striped shirt in order to better fit in, haha. ^_^

Gros bisous,

Rachel