Today you get to learn about the time I almost got kicked out of the Palace of Versailles.
Do I have your attention yet?
My parents and I visited France at the end of our month-long backpacking trip across Europe. We technically visited France at the very beginning of the trip, but that’s because the French decided to go on strike so our train somehow ended up in Paris (but that’s a story for another post). So by the time I traveled to France intentionally, I already wasn’t a fan of the French.
But I’m a traveler, aren’t I always supposed to be upbeat and positive about people from other cultures?
Not always. You don’t get along with every single person you meet in your home country, so why should it change when you travel abroad? Since arriving in France, I had already gotten yelled at on the subway, a museum worker had already called my mom fat, and I had people shoving me from behind while touring the Palace of Versailles. I was not impressed with France.
It was raining and miserable the first day that I was in France. Our hour-long wait to get into Versailles was wet and chilly but we eventually managed to get into the actual palace.
I had so much fun touring the palace, despite the overwhelming amount of tourists and iPads. Seriously, iPads are EVERYWHERE at tourist spots, right behind selfie sticks. I don’t understand the allure of taking a massive iPad on a trip to take pictures with. Personally, if you can afford to travel to a location and can afford an iPad, you can at least afford to buy something smaller to take pictures with. They just get in the way and obstruct the view for all the other tourists. But if you want to look ridiculous, be my guest.
The biggest complication with Versailles was the tickets. I was able to get in for free (yay) but my parents bought the Paris Museum Pass for two days for only 42 € each. The only caveat was that admission to the Versailles gardens was not included. Those were extra. The three of us came to a consensus that the money spent getting into the gardens would be better spent somewhere else (like on an actual meal). However, our admission ticket did allow us admission into Marie Antoinette’s chateau – which was conveniently located in the gardens. Great. Never one to miss out, my mom and I set off on an adventure to try and figure out how we could get to the chateau (that we had paid for) without paying for entry to the gardens. There was a way; we just had to figure out that way.
A travel tip for anybody traveling to France is that French monuments and museums are not clearly marked and/or labeled. In America, as well as many other countries, there are different signs that tell visitors where to go. For example, they tell those with pre-purchased tickets to go into one line, those who still need to purchase tickets into another line, etc. France hasn’t quite figured that out yet. We found the entrance to the gardens and my mom went up to an attendant standing at the gate to ask him how to get to the chateau. My dad and I hung back but my mom seemed to have trouble communicating to the attendant what we wanted to do. So I went to my mom so I could try and help.
A female attendant at the gate must have taken personal offense to see somebody walking calmly up to somebody else, so this female attendant thought it would be a good idea to come running over and start yelling at me in French. She must have misunderstood my look of pure surprise and thought that I didn’t understand her (albeit I didn’t) so she began yelling at me harshly in English. I still couldn’t figure out why on earth she was yelling at me that I couldn’t go into the gardens, I was a good 10 feet away from the gate to begin with, and I was trying to stand by my mom, but this French bulldog of a woman was preventing me from doing even that.
I calmly attempted to explain that I didn’t even want to go inside the gardens and that I only wanted to stand by my mom. She continued to yell and scream at me nonetheless. I have very tough skin and don’t get offended very easily so I stood my ground. Even though I wanted to yell back at her, I wasn’t going to stoop down to her level of screaming at a young girl.
…Until she had the audacity to grab my arm and try to yank me somewhere.
I lost it.
I instinctively swatted her hand away and shook myself free of her grip and told her exactly what I thought of her little stunt. After an entire morning of dealing with the ineptitude of the French, I was at my end and had no problem yelling right back at her. The woman kept yelling at me and getting right in my face, violating every personal bubble I had. She continued to try and touch my shoulder and I kept smacking her hand away. It was like she was a rabid dog and wouldn’t leave me alone. All I wanted to do was just stand there next to my mom and listen to her conversation!
This whole time, my mom had been engrossed in her conversation with the other attendant and was completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter was about to be hauled off and kicked out of the Palace of Versailles. My mom finally noticed the… issue I was dealing with so she got involved. Then, the woman decided to start yelling at my mom too! My dad had had enough of watching us get yelled at so he finally decided to put a stop to things. Maybe it was just because he was a tall male, but the psycho woman stopped her yelling at me and stormed off in a huff, practically waving the white flag of surrender (typical French). Finally, because I had a feeling she wanted to haul me off to French prison.
The male attendant who had initially helped my mom was able to (vaguely) explain to us how to get to Marie Antoinette’s chateau. Basically, we had to walk a mile and a half around to another entrance where the people there would (hopefully) be able to let us in. I politely thanked him and we left, thankful to have escaped as free people.
Ultimately, the three of us decided to not make the trek to see Marie Antoinette’s chateau. We only had two days in Paris and there were lots of other things that we wanted to see even more. That afternoon, we went to the Arc de Triomphe, Arch of Defense, Champs Élysées, and the Louvre. I really wanted to take the stereotypical tourist picture touching the top of the pyramid at the Louvre. It was the golden hour of dusk when we arrived, which meant that the grounds were nearly deserted and the lighting was amazing. It was a peaceful end to what was a not-so-peaceful morning.
