Just a quick little note before I begin to ramble away: if these photographs offend you in any way, please be aware that that was not my intention and I am rather conscious of it. These photographs, as with all of those I have taken in sensitive areas (graveyards, churches etc.) were taken with permission. "Arrête, c'est ici l'empire de la mort"
(Halt, this is the realm of Death) Inscription above the entrance to les Catacombes.
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We had intended to visit the Palace of Versailles on our third day in Paris. Put basically, that did not happen. At least not on that day, but more on that to come. We had, with all good intentions, got the assistance of personnel at the train station, who were actually pretty kind and in no way to blame for the muddle that happened later (I may have had a little snipe at you when we were on the train upon realising the mistake, lovely train guy, so so sorry). Anyways, he helped us buy a ticket and told us where to go. We got on the correct train after much hopping on and off (Is this really the correct train??) we boarded and were on our way. This is where things started to go a little askew. Apparently we were supposed to get off at one particular station and change trains to Versailles. Yep, we did not do that. We stayed on the train for ages, debating and hoping that the next stop would be the one we wanted. None of them were. We stayed on till it became blatantly apparent that we were on the wrong train. Then we got off. In a tiny cold town that was actually probably really lovely once you moved past the train station. Our poor little panicked selves however did no such thing, our second ticket back to Paris didn't let us. So we sat, on a cold, hard metal seat underneath the only shelter and ate Kinder chocolate till the train to Paris arrived. It's a little funny to laugh about it now, and really I believe it to be fate, for the next day when we actually made it to Versailles (following the route I had planned out but for whatever reason we hadn't followed) the weather was glorious.
It is so difficult not to love a setting sun in Paris. The light it creates hits all the beauty in the city and magnifies it tenfold. I do not believe that Notre Dame looked prettier than the moment it turned gold with the setting sun. The colours were enhanced by the intense reds, oranges and yellow of the surrounding flora, turning the whole picture into the most idyllic Autumn scene.
"On a cold windswept street, this was a warm, cheerful place with a big stove in winter, tables and shelves of books, new books in the window, and photographs on the wall of famous writers both dead and living. The photographs all looked like snapshots and even the dead writers looked as though they had really been alive."
-Ernest Hemingway, "Shakespeare and Company," A Moveable Feast
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Hi! I'm Louise. I am a writer, photographer, traveler, book fanatic and blogger. I love to post about my adventures and the little things I do that make life fun.
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December 2019
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