Let Them Eat Cake!

I went to Versailles, but I didn't eat any cake there. Too bad about that...cake would have been yummy. Versailles was one of those eye popping places that really brought home the reasons for the French Revolution and the evils of a monarchy. It made me bless the name of George Washington (who could have been king but was so wonderful he didn't even want to serve two terms as president for fear of setting a bad precedent) and also made me contemplate the life of two Book of Mormon kings; Benjamin and Mosiah. King Benjamin was able to declare at the end of his life that he was not guilty of abusing the public because he had "labored with [his] own hands" and he had "not sought gold nor silver nor any manner of riches" from his people, nor had he caused that they be "laden with taxes." He was a wonderful example of a righteous public servant. His son Mosiah was also amazing, and at the end of his life he abolished the monarchy and set up a system of judges which allowed the people to govern themselves. These men were selfless and the direct antithesis of the Rois of France.

Originally a hunting lodge for the royal family located in the small town of Versailles, the chateau was later grandly expanded and improved upon by Louis XIV, who was interested in architecture and in creating yet another big fat house for his family to live in. Yes, it is called the Chateau de Versailles but let's face it...it's a palace. And it is ENORMOUS! Seriously. (Chateau my eye...) The whole place is 551,218 square feet and has 2,153 windows, 700 rooms, and 67 staircases (I wonder how many bathrooms though...?).

"Welcome to Versailles!" exclaims my father. He's seen it before and the palace is still overwhelming in it's extremism. Yowza!

Louis XIV welcomes you too...

Heather, Sandra, Mom, Laraine, Jaime, Chase, and me posing on a cold, drizzly day.

The outer gates.

Me and the golden gates.

These buildings were actually homes built by members of Louis' court. I guess 700 rooms just weren't enough to hold everyone!

Heather in the courtyard. Behind her is a giant spaceman lying on the floor. The French are way bizarre in the way they mix ugly modern "art" with classical design. There was a bright purple carriage pulled by purple horses in the courtyard too.

The work on Versailles began in 1661, and Louis XIV officially established his court there in 1682. His hope, by moving the royal center of power away from Paris, was to return more governmental control to himself, and thus away from the nobles, and to get away from all the pesky peasants. Louis required his nobles to spend part of the year at Versailles and set up a system of court etiquette that is ridiculous in the extreme. For one thing, he made watching and attending his royal person as he rose from bed in the morning and retired at night into a court function. The Lever or "rising" and the Coucher or "bedtime" was divided into two parts: the petit lever for the king's favorites and personal friends and the grand lever for the entire court, which was held in a gallery outside the royal bedchamber. I honestly can't imagine feeling honored to watch some ordinary person made king by virtue of his birth get up in the morning, use the chamber pot, and get dressed. Oo la la! I guess in that respect I'd make a terrible courtier but it also makes me an excellent American. HA!

Me in the royal bedchamber...no king though, just tourists.

Another bedchamber...I lost track of what bedroom belonged to which dauphin or dauphine.

Sandra next to Marie Antoinette's bed. Her room was very girlie and fancy.

King Louis XV was a young child when his father died in 1715, and while he grew to adulthood the royal court moved back to Paris. Louis the XV came back to Versailles in 1722, however, and continued to build and improve the palace. His son, Louis de France and the heir to the throne died in 1765, before Louis XV's own death in 1774, and thus never became king. It was Louis XV's grandson, Louis-Auguste, who became the famous (and eventually guillotined) King Louis XVI.

Louis-Auguste, married the Archduchess of Austria Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna von Habsburg-Lothringen by proxy on April 19, 1768. At this time she was given the name, Marie-Anoinette, Dauphine of France. The couple later married in person on May 16, 1770: she was all of 14 and her husband was 16. They lived at Versailles and she spent vast amounts of money on gambling and clothes all in an effort to make up for her husband's lack of interest in her. While she was an interesting woman and didn't necessarily make the best choices, she didn't do the many outrageous and morally reprobate things she was accused of during her life and after. Her biggest sin was that she was Austrian, as the Austrians and the French were traditional enemies. (Kind of like the French and the British...who exactly do the French get along with?) Of course, the opulence of the royal lifestyle didn't help any. If I was a starving peasant, I'd have pulled my hair out to see stuff like this:

The chapel of the Chateau de Versailles. Nothing like going to church in your own house...

Here's the chapel ceiling. So, a chapel is a special place and that is why the ceiling is painted so gorgeously, right? Wrong! ALL the ceilings were painted! Case in point...

Bedroom ceiling.

Ceiling in some other room...state room I think.

Ceiling in some giant room that had a fireplace so large it could fit half a huge tree trunk in it. Versailles was literally room after room of incredible beauty and I couldn't help but wonder if, after a while, the people who lived there stopped seeing it. I hope not. I like to think that they woke up and looked at blue skies and cherubs and counted themselves to be wondrously lucky.

The French Revolutionaries saved some of the fabulous furnishings, statuary, and paintings from Versailles to be used in museums, but the rest they auctioned off. There are still, however, original pieces to be seen.

Marie-Antoinette's bedroom furnishings.

More furniture...note how extremely ornate this stuff is. If that clock fell on you, you'd be squished to death.

A vase (that's vahz to you! They don't haves vases in palaces.).

We also marveled at all the art. Versailles has 6,123 paintings, 1,500 drawings, 15,034 engravings, 2,102 sculptures, and 5,102 pieces of furniture and objects de art! Here are a few we saw:

Heather and a fancy wall.

The statuary hall.

I thought this statue was really beautiful.

How massive is your mantle piece when a huge painting like this fits nicely above it?

A badly fuzzy shot of a famous painting depicting Marie-Antoinette and her three children.

Of course, the piece de resistance of the palace is the Hall of Mirrors or le Grande Galerie. It is amazing! Seventeen mirrored arches reflect seventeen arched windows and the whole effect is one of light. I can just imagine how brilliant it must have looked at night with the candles lit in the chandeliers!

The Hall of Mirrors was commissioned by Louis XIV and is connected to the royal apartments. He and his family would pass through this room, crowded with courtiers assembled to view the royals and request favors, as he made his way to the chapel. In the days of Louis XIV, the hall was decorated with silver furniture, which he later melted down to finance the War of the League of Augsburg. The hall was used for official functions such as receiving visiting royalty and other dignitaries, fetes celebrating births and marriages, and lavish balls. It's most famous moment, in my personal opinion, was when French Prime Minister Georges Clemencau, chose the Hall of Mirrors as the location to sign the Treaty of Versailles, which ended World War I.


The weather that Saturday in Versailles was fantastically cold and wet. We did not do an extensive tour of the grounds (more's the pity) nor did we make the pilgrimage to the Petite Trianon, Marie-Antoinette's personal and seperate home on the Versailles grounds simply because we were all freezing to death. Not even the rumors published in the French libelles of Marie-Antoinette's day that the walls of the Petite Trianon were plastered with gold and diamonds, could make ice-cold hands and feet worth the walk. Jaime, Sandra, and I did a speed walking tour to see the grounds and then we hustled back in to the relative warmth of Versailles.

The town of Versailles as seen from the chateau.

So, that was it! We went back to Paris in the afternoon in order to go shopping. Dad wasn't at all interested in that, so we asked him to stop a nice French lady before we went our separate ways and ask where the best shopping spot was. After three tries he found someone who would talk to him and he gave us directions to the area she recommended. We rode the fantastic metro to what ended up being a giant indoor/outdoor mall that sold only designer stuff. Not exactly the "I Went To Paris" type t-shirts and mugs we were looking for. The place was INSANELY busy too because, seeing as there is no Thanksgiving holiday in France, the whole place was decked out for Christmas and was loaded with shoppers. We actually formed a human chain so that no one would get lost. We eventually decided to head back up to the Montmartre area where there was a tourist-friendly street that sold t-shirts and junk. We shopped for HOURS buying chocolates, scarves, shirts, and mugs from the Arabs who ran the stores (they were all related), and ate dinner at a ridiculously crappy bistro where squish-face Chase totally charmed the lady who was providing live music for the evening. She sang a song in his honor and we laughed over yet another person who had joined his legion of adoring fans. We finished off the night by eating hot Nutella-filled crepes from a road-side vendor who spoke very good English and had nothing better to do than charm six giggly ladies as he served up his delicious treats. We went to bed exhausted and ready to head back to the good old US of A the next morning. France was amazing and my thanks to all the people who treated us so well, to my family for putting up with me, and to Chad and his mom for making it possible for me to go. When we were finally in the air, winging our way home, I had to chant, "North, South, East, or West...wherever you go, home is best."

French Hat Part Deux

You may remember the woeful tale of my lost French hat...R.I.P. - Hat from Angouleme France - 2009

I was so sad the day it disappeared from off the top of our double stroller. Not only was it cute, but it was irreplaceable. I mean...how often does one go to France? Well, if you are my parents, you go twice! They recently returned from a trip back to their mission stomping grounds. Their main reason for traveling was to attend their dear friend's 100th birthday fete. Happy B-day Madeline! They stayed with friends, saw the growth of the branch, and did some traveling and sight-seeing. One thing they did while on the French Rivera (San Rafael to be exact), was to buy me another French hat. Aren't they darlings?!! So, here it is (along with my best hat modeling facial expressions...I'm a terrible model).

What I've Learned From My Children

The point of raking leaves is to jump in them...
It's okay to feel...

grumpy sometimes...

silly often...

and happy as much as you can.

I should take pride in small accomplishments...
Dressing up is fun...
Being helpful is the best way to live my life...
There is joy in perfectly ordinary things...
Cake you've sneaked off the plate and eaten is the bomb (and that when I find crumb covered faces, a crumb covered table, and a crumb covered plate hidden in the refrigerator...the best thing to do is laugh).
If I try new things I'll probably find that I like it just fine...

My daughter's smile is more beautiful than flowers...
And that good books...
and a nap after lunch are a must!

First Picnic of the Year

Today it was finally warm enough and the ground was dry enough for a picnic. Grace was ecstatic. She's been asking to eat outside for a month now, but I placated her with indoor picnics and lots of tea parties (the little girl with water in a plastic teapot kind, not the political kind). We had a guest over today as well, which made our picnic extra fun.And now for some random thoughts...

On Saturday night, after all our kids were down for sleep, we decided to go ahead and move our clocks ahead one hour so that we wouldn't forget to do it later in the evening. It was 8:30pm when we roamed through our house and magically fast-forwarded time to 9:30. As soon as I was surrounded by 9:30pm on all sides I automatically got tired and began longing for my bed. Wasn't it time to sleep yet? Where was my toothbrush? My pj's? The power of suggestion is really something else. I was wide awake when it was 8:30, but minutes later when all the clocks read 9:30, I couldn't wait to go to bed. Either this means I am highly susceptible or it means I'm old. ;)

Did anyone else feel like Sunday was a squeezed accordion? That time was compressed? That all day long you were racing to catch up to something but were never quite fast enough? Despite the fact that we were 10 minutes early to church, I felt late for everything yesterday. Daylight Savings Time is severely messing with me. You?

Some Thoughts

The Vancouver Olympics are over and I enjoyed watching them very much. It is exciting to see athletes who have sacrificed and trained rigorously for years compete and do their best, whether that is good enough to win a medal or not. I was touched, as I'm sure you were, by the story of Joannie Rochette, whose mother died of a heart attack two days before Joannie was set to skate her short program for ladies figure skating. I admired Joannie's determination to skate in honor of her mother, who (along with Joannie's dad) was her daughter's biggest fan and supporter. I also marveled at her mental toughness to be able to skate and not fall to pieces, as I'm sure I would have. Her bronze medal was well deserved.

The thing that drove me nuts were the reporters. Talk about a bunch of ravening wolves! They circled around that poor girl, seemingly delighted to report her every tear in order to pull in viewers and up their ratings. It made me want to strangle people. My number one beef with the news is how the anchors seems to relish reporting the bad, sad, and tragic episodes of people's lives...and the more heart-wrenching the better. Their metallic voices rattle off stories of disaster and woe with more glee than pathos as they offer up the private sorrows of ordinary people to the network gods and ratings watchers. How refreshing then, was the commentary of Scott Hamilton during the ladies skating programs. As an Olympic champion himself, he knows the incredible drive to succeed, the stress and the nerves, the hours of practicing for one moment to shine. I've always enjoyed his positive comments and genuine desire for each skater to achieve and do their best...unlike Dick Button, who I grew up listening to every four years and learned to dislike for his critical and unkind comments regarding the skaters, especially the lesser known ones. Scott Hamilton has always seemed classy and sweet, but he outdid himself in Vancouver. When Joannie Rochette finished her beautiful and emotionally charged long program, I was in tears, and so was Scott Hamilton. He choked up on the air describing Joannie's courage and I wanted to cheer. Finally! A human being who is also an anaylst and commentator, someone who recognizes, as did John Donne, that "no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee." I've always loved that quote because it reminds me that we are all interconnected, and that the success of one is the success of all just as the failure of one is the failure of all - we should rejoice for and with our brothers and sisters in the earth and mourn when they mourn. So hooray for Scott Hamilton, who rejoiced and sorrowed and marveled and supported another human being instead of waiting with bared fangs to bleed her dry in the name of network T.V.