I love going to France. People are nice, the coutry, even Paris smells so nice, and the people know how to live their life. Even if they are poor or not so fortunate in life, they seem to be happy. It's a terrible generalization and it is entirely possible that I just idealize the French and their culture. Which might have something to do that I grew up reading about the pinacle of their culture: Louis XIV and Versailles. Listening to, strangely enough, Bach.
Altar at the Chapelle RoyaleWhilst being there I had a chance to go the the concert in the Chapelle Royale in the castle of Versailles. It was great being there and being a part of the audience in a place which one normaly just sees with 1000 othre turists as one of the visitors of the museum. Exciting!!
Anyway this is my photo story of the comming back home.
I left Versailles by train, the station called Montreuile.
When you take a train to Versailles from Gare St. Lazar - therefore Rove Droite, it means that you'll be traveling slightly above the city and this gives you a perect oportunity to see the whole Paris and see how big the Eiffel tower actually is. Remarcable. And it's still here since 1889. They wanted to destroy it after the World's Fair. It stands as the biggest building in Paris -320m and on the right hand side you can see the second tallest building - Tour Montparnasse with 210m. Impressive 7,300 tons of iron!
A typical Parisian house with the balconies - this one on Rue de Rome (where I went shopping for books and music):
From Gare St. Lazar I took a fabulous Paris metro to Gare du Nord:
e
There I took a train back home. A known red TGV train called Thalys:
The first stop of the train. The photo says all ;)
Well the rest of the trip was a bit of a bore. Train stops, train travel. And as soon as we came to the Lowlands it started to rain. Typical. Anyway, when I came to my hometown I forgot to take a pic for you. I was just anoyed by everything and could not wait to come back home where Cmoko was waiting and I could not wait to hug him for a long time and press my kiss-hungry lips to his warm mouth. Which is exactly what happened. And now we're just off to bed :P
8 comments:
I love Paris. It's probably my favorite city (in Europe, definitely). I used to live there a couple of months, but I still feel there like totally at home... Always.
I also like it. It's big and dirty but one does not have that kind of feeling... Crowded, but it feels like you have space to breath. Perfect shops (one of the best like Gallerie La Fayette and on Place Vendome), briliant museums, delicious food. And then of course Le Marrais.... ;P
you know what? Home is where the heart is.... so, as glorious as France is, you return here to the person that loves you, and that is worth a million trips on the fabulous metro, or watching the natives live their life in French bliss.
Just out of interest, how many not-so-fortunates do/did you encounter in France? Sorry to nit-pick, it just sounds a bit patronising: oh look at all the poor peasants,having such a lovely time. Maybe they are all on le prozac..
Vive la France!
Well sure and, providing you did read till the end, Milady, then you would know how badly I wanted to come home and enjoy what was waiting for me there...
Sure, there are a lot of poor people in Paris. Also a lot of them on drugs. I see them and some of them (especially if they play music) i give some money. I think there is also a difference in begging. Don't you?
Paris...
<3
Love it.
taking a break from work
yes I did read to the end. Just wanted to make the point that France is fabulous but it also wouldn't be so fabulous if you were living there by yourself with cmoko back home. Perhaps then the beggars would also seem unfriendly and unhappy.What do you mean by a difference in begging exactly? Parisian beggars are more classy?! am intrigued.
I love traveling.So bad there is no money...
They certainly have more class then the Dutch ones. ;)))
I don't remember ever beeing asked for money. I was - by a Bosnian refugee. But the clochards have their specific flair. Don't they?
Post a Comment