Diary of Ann Franks

Finally! We were installed into the room we had been clamoring for. Two balconies, no waiting. A view over the park, and below us, the Gordon Ramsey restaurant patio umbrellas were unfurled. I spent the mid-day at the spa, receiving a lovely massage from a young woman who apologetically told me she was from Brazil and trying to learn English but wasn’t very good at it yet. Between my pidgin French (which means I can converse with a pigeon, but not a French person) and my grasp of high school Spanish, we managed to get by pretty well. Smiles and gestures go a long way.) And yes, I know they speak Portuguese in Brazil – but similarities allowed us a few exchanges that made sense. I think.

That evening, the Michelin parade began again. This time, we dined at Le Pincemin, a cozy restaurant on the street level of boulevard du Roi – walking distance from our hotel. We were warmly welcomed – if yet again denied anything resembling an American martini. So, we sipped vodka on ice, munched on to-die-for bread and admired our surroundings.

I think this was my favorite dining experience of the entire trip. The waiter explained everything to us – telling us for instance, where the ingredients of the various dishes came from nearby, since we were avidly interested. I think he was enjoying us too, since he seemed to show up at our table and visit rather than placing plates and running scared.

The following day, we attempted our usual perusal of Versailles to see how things were holding up. Beautifully, as it turns out. We picked the right day, because crowds were somewhat sparse – until they weren’t.

A few of my favorite palace sites –

As the crowds thickened, we ventured outside to walk to The Queen’s Hamlet. Each time, I feel like we see new things. probably just visual overload, as everywhere you look is something interesting. The first image, of a Virginia juniper tree, was already nicknamed “the old tree” on postcards as far back as 1900. The say it was planted by Napolean I during the restoration. A violent storm in 1999 left it in this state, though it somehow continues to survive.

The last two images are of the giant sequoia which was planted in 1870. It is 24 feet in circumference and 124 feet tall.

Marie Antoinette’s Hamlet was charming as ever – although Robert didn’t have his bonding moment with the swans this time.

It was quite warm out – even for people coming from a Texas summer, so we meandered back to our hotel and had a refreshing beverage on the patio before getting cleaned up for our last Michelin dinner at La Table du 11. At this point, since we are nearing the end of our journey, I am just rested enough that I notice things I have merely shrugged off before. For instance, these restaurants in Paris and Versailles provide the most amazing thing, and best idea ever. A little stool for your purse. They’re small, so they don’t get terribly in the way, and they allow you to keep your bag within reach – not hanging on the back of your chair or lying on the ground. I think the concept is genius. Is anyone doing this in the States? (Ignore the fact my travel crossbody bag doesn’t deserve to be off the ground.)

I’m sure chef Jean-Baptiste Lavergne-Morazzani and crew were delighted when we looked at the menu and told the waiter we were not in the mood for another evening of seafood. “Please help,” we begged with puppy dog eyes. Boy, did they deliver the options.

So, another perfectly wonderful meal and a nightcap downstairs at our hotel where we reviewed our plan for our final day in Versailles. Strangely, which would consist of a return to Paris.

One of the items that had never been crossed off our list when visiting Paris was a visit to Montmartre to see Sacré-Cœur Basilica. It is also one of the places I had done the least research about. We took the train rather than hiring a cab, and arrived around lunchtime. We found the funicular tram that carries you to the top of the hill, and regretted it immediately. SO CROWDED AND HOT. To recover, we sat on a short stone wall and stared at what was still a decent climb to get to the basilica. Luckily, at this point we noticed the Little Train of Montmartre and bought a ticket. It took us on a guided tour of the area through streets lined with restaurants, shops, apartments and porn stores. Aha! So this is where Moulin Rouge is, too! Overall, the little town feel I was expecting was not realized. It made us think of Times Square before it was cleaned up and made more family-friendly,

When the train circled back to Sacré-Cœur we stepped off and climbed the steps to enter. Now this was worth the trip. (Although, probably not worth the trip from Versailles.) But still, it was awe-inspiring.

Afterward, we managed to find our way back to Versailles, where Robert finally got his soak in the tub overlooking the garden.

Seriously, that bathroom was worth waiting for.

For dinner, we decided to try a nearby Chinese restaurant that was well within walking distance. We sat outside on the patio and discussed our plans for departure the next morning. It was the perfect no frills end to a pretty frilly trip. After dinner, we walked back down a side street toward our hotel and stopped at the closed gates to the palace, near the Queen’s garden that runs by the Waldorf. While Robert grasped the gate rails and whimpered farewell, I took a photo of the lonely fountain.

Once back at the hotel, we paused to photograph Robert in his usual state of mischief. He couldn’t resist the police car out front, keeping watch over the rugby guests from Wales who were in town competing for the World Cup.

Aside from a very poor decision to try to drink the last of the vodka in our minifridge that resulted in my stepping from the shower at around 1:00 AM to find Robert broadcasting fart noises from his portable speaker over the Gordon Ramsey umbrellas below (which was apparently met with loud giggles from the ladies and gentlemen), our last night was uneventful. Rest assured, I now know he cannot be trusted with sound effects and a speaker. It was pretty funny how pleased he was with himself. Since we didn’t get reprimanded or kicked out, I let it go.

We actually managed to wake up in time for a nice breakfast and coffee on the patio downstairs before jumping in a cab for the airport.

Luckily, this time around, it was a non-stop from De Gualle to Dallas, where the dogs (ours and the grand dogs) were awaiting our arrival.

We did something in Paris this time around that we have never done before. We explored fashion. Not shopping, because I despise shopping, but via museums. First was the Palais Galliera, where we wandered through an exhibition titled Fashion on the Move. We spent more time than intended because it was so fascinating. For instance, this was what one wore for cycling around 1900.

My other favorite was a tailored suit. Invented in Great Britain in the 1880s, the suit was very popular. But just before World War One, women began using the tailored suit for recreational activities. You see, women at the time had taken up a form of power walking the French called “footing,” and this was considered the most appropriate clothing for such an activity.

Yep, nothing says, “Let’s go for a workout,” like a nice blue suit.

Next up was La Galerie Dior. This was definitely a hot ticket. The line stretched halfway down the block. Luckily, we had a reservation so were led right in, once Robert was able to locate the electronic confirmation on his phone, which spent much of the time in France being exceedingly unhelpful.

Once inside, we came to a screeching halt. Before us was a towering entry of glowing perfection. Small Dior creations in every color. Everyone had the same reaction – wide eyes and big smiles. Men, women, and children united in fashion euphoria.

Here’s a shot of just a couple of levels.

There was so much to see and so many beautiful things, it was overwhelming. I wanted one of everything.

One of the most interesting things was a brief explanation of the fashion design process. We stood in a room surrounded by white clothes as the young man told us how designs are sketched, then cut into patterns, then something like a white muslin is used to create the form. From there, they try different fabrics and textures to determine what will best suit the vision they have in mind.

The following day was The Louvre. Since it was Robert’s birthday, he got to pick his wing, and he chose his favorite, the Richelieu. We couldn’t resist a silly photo.

(Seems this fellow wanted to borrow Robert’s phone.)

After seeing enough statues to fill a museum (get it?) we wandered by the French Crown jewels on the way out. I didn’t get as many photos of those as I would like because suddenly it was as though every human being in Paris decided to converge on The Louvre and block our view of everything.

At that point, we masked up and headed through the way too crowded museum, making a beeline for the exit, which took a much longer time to locate than one would think. I mean seriously. Those exits are HIDDEN.

The following day, we packed and got into a cab to Versailles where more food awaited, but hopefully a good deal less walking.