Gift Knitting

Let us pause from our trip to France for some knitting content!

I actually knit a gift for someone.

Yeah, it doesn't happen often around here. I hope you aren't too shocked.

Re-Cap
Pattern: One-stitch baby sweater from Lion Brand, 18 months size.
Yarn: Blue Sky Alpaca Organic Cotton, 2.5 hanks.
Needles: US9

Dodging
So remember how, at the beginning of the year, I was making a sport out of not making gifts for my younger cousins who have been reproducing?

But how instead of being smart and keeping quiet about this laziness I was talking about it on Twitter and my blog, which both feed into Facebook—where all my family members can see it?

Well, back in May or June my mom ran into my cousins' mom (which is kind of surprising since Aunt T lives out in Calif.) And mom reported Aunt T said something along the lines of, "If a baby blanket is too boring to make, maybe someone should knit a baby sweater instead."

gasp!

Which just shows you the high levels of sass in my family, in case you were wondering where I get it from.

Caved
Since even I can take a hint when you hit me over the head with it, I dutifully settled on a pattern and bought some yarn.

(Note: this yarn was purchase before the pay cut was announced, so I'm not off my yarn diet.)

I decided to go with the Lion Brand One-Stitch Baby Sweater. (You need a password/ID to get into the Lion Brand pattern library, so I'm not going to link it.) I had made it for my Cousin A's youngest son several years ago and remembered it was quick and easy.

The problem was choosing yarn. My Cousin X had registered for organic cotton rompers, layettes, sheets, etc. But I didn't know if she believed in organic or was just being trendy. Fortunately during one of mom's recent visits I had to answer her cell phone because she was driving. My Uncle the Priest confirmed his daughter is pretty rabid about the whole organic, non-toxic lifestyle. Which limited my yarn choices, but also justified my laziness as the 100 percent acrylic blanket I'd been avoiding probably wouldn't have been well received anyway. (Although she probably wouldn't have said so since she was brought up well. But she's got as much sass as anyone else in this family, so you never know.)

I settled on Blue Sky Alpaca Organic Cotton in the grown organic colorways. I'd used the normal Blue Sky Alpaca Cotton for a baby bolero for a coworker a few years ago and thought it quite lovely.

(Don't ask. It was a one-skein project and very cute. However, by the time the baby was old enough to visit the office, she had outgrown it. sigh.)

Now the pattern said I would need three balls of Lion Brand Cotton Ease and it comes in 207 yard balls. BSA-OC comes in 150 yard skeins. So by my math I needed 4.14 skeins of the BSA. I thought, "What's 0.14 of a skein between friends?" and just bought the four instead of five.

Turns out I only needed 2.5 skeins. Don't know how or why, but I thought it was pretty cool.

And a Hat
Then I sat there looking at the left over 50 grams of yarn and thought, "That's pretty useless."

So I fiddled around and made this little hat. I used US8 dpns because I apparently don't own US9 dpns. Which seems like a bit of an oversight, so maybe they just aren't in the drawer where they belong.

My first attempt was too small. I don't know much about baby head sizes as I do my best to avoid babies because they are gross. And for all I know they are contagious, like fleas or something. You touch someone elses baby and end up with one of your own. It's just too dangerous.

Anyway, even I, with my limited knowledge, knew the hat was too small. So I asked my friends who do have babies and got some size guidelines. Yes, there are tons of free patterns for baby hats available, but all the ones I saw were stockinette and I wanted garter to match the sweater. So I persevered.

My second attempt will hopefully fit. It only took 25 grams of yarn. Since the leftovers from the hat were even less useful than the leftovers from the sweater, I made a second hat. Now I'm ahead of the game the next time someone decides to reproduce. I'm feeling rather pleased with myself as well.

Of course, by the time I get to the post office, Cousin X's baby will probably have outgrown the sweater. But it's the thought that counts, right?

Trip to France Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne II

Day 4 Part 2.
We took the A62 out of Bordeaux to Carcassonne.

Let’s see, we’ve got toll receipts for St. Selve to Toulouse Nord for E 17.30. Then Toulouse S to Carcassonne for E 8.

Along this southern part was where we encountered the most consistent traffic on the highways. For most of the trip, we only really encountered traffic right around the cities.

Driving By
The country side was starting to get a little more hilly at this point. We were supposed to be able to see the Pyrenees in the distance, but the weather was pretty the hazy the whole time.

Carcassonne is a medieval walled city. The first part of the walls was originally built by the Romans. The wall and city were expanded on over the years. Hubby made sure we were in a hotel in the old part of the city, La Cite, which is inside the walls. This allowed us to take our car inside with us.

Approaching the city was kind of wild because the directions from the hotel said to take exit 24, which shot us beyond the city. We had to double back, but we were able to navigate by the road signs. If we didn’t have the directions, I probably would have said to get off at exit 23, judging by the road map, and who knows what would have happened then. Of course, this all meant we could see it, but then drove by it, which was a little confusing.

Popular Place
It was a mad house up by the old city section. There are three parking lots around it and people walking everywhere heading inside. We’d had Dany call head for us and they told her we should park in lot 3. To which we responded, "We hope we can find lot 3!" It took a while to find it as it was off the main road, beyond a cool old cemetery, tucked in a corner of the walls. Of course the catawampus road signs did not aid us very well in this endeavor. On the bright side we saw a good amount of the exterior walls.

Once we found it we were a little surprised to see a sign indicating it was full. Still, we identified ourselves as having hotel reservations. A guy got in another car and led the way for us. This was a very good thing as the roads were barely wide enough to fit the car! People had to squish against the walls or step into shop doors to make room for us. The lead car cleared the road and Hubby made sure to stay right on his tail.

The porter drove our car away after we unloaded our suitcases. The desk clerk explained that the car had to be out of the city by 10 am, but check out wasn’t until noon. So the next morning they drove car out and then had a little mini-van to take us to it when we were ready. There was a fee for parking, E 14 I think, but not for the shuttle, although Hubby did tip him.

We were in the Best Western Hotel Le Donjon. The lobby was all dark wood and tile. The staircases were all at multiple levels and I’m pretty sure I even saw one that when up on one side, down the other, and had another up level going off the side. Making it a tri-directional staircase. ::blink::

Our room was plain and serviceable. I think it’s one of the only rooms we had that had a little coffee pot. There was a mini-bar/fridge, which we had in several rooms. It also had air conditioning, which we totally needed because it was fairly hot and humid in this region.

Actually, the only thing I didn’t like about the room was that we had two twin beds pushed together. Separate sheets, blankets, and all. Grrr. But we could see the citadel from our room and we could see the cathedral from the window in the hall, which was pretty cool.

Wine! We tasted wine!
Carcassonne is in the Languedoc wine region. Through the hotel Hubby was able to set up a wine tasting with a Cave across the street. A woman and a man took turns pouring, and explaining the wine and producer. All the wines were yummy, but Hubby didn't end up buying any.

There were five wines, I believe, starting with a glass of champagne. Then a white and three reds. Or was it six wines, with three whites (including the champagne) and three reds? I don’t remember rightly, as it had been a while since lunch and the first two wines threw me for a loop. Wheeee! Hubby tried to help me out, but said I was going to put him under the table. He found it very amusing that I got so silly so quickly. But we didn’t have to drive anywhere else, so it was ok. Usually Hubby does tastings alone and I’m the designated driver. So it was nice to participate, but obviously I'm a light-weight.

Take that Canard!
After the tasting we went across the street diagonally and had dinner in the Le Donjon restaurant. It was kind of modern inside and the radio was playing all English music. This was amusing, at times, as the curse words weren’t edited out. snicker.

We had pre-paid for dinner through the hotel, so we selected from a price fix menu.

For starters I had salad with goat cheese and Hubby had fois gras, both of which were tasty. My entrée was duck confit with lovely little disks of fried potatoes with garlic. If I had a green, I don’t remember what it was. Hubby had a canard cassoulet, which was a little clay pot with white beans, chunks of duck, and sausage. It was all very well prepared. My duck just fell off the bone. It was also very flavorful. I took my first bite and exclaimed, “Oh, this is so good!" and started gobbeling it down. (I might have still been a little tipsy.)

(Here is a link to a random cooking blog I just found explaining what a cassoulet is. She even mentions Carcassonne!)

We ended up swapping plates halfway through. When we switched back I still had quite a pile of potatoes left and a good amount of duck. I keep a little plastic bag in my purse at all times in case I get a migraine (and the unfortunate side-effects of such). I slipped it out of my purse and loaded it up with my leftovers as subtly as possible. Hubby was my look-out and let me know when people were walking by so I could stop and look innocent. We had to take this extreme measure since doggy bags are not the norm.

For dessert Hubby had vanilla crème brulee and I had a chocolate lava cake. Are you noticing a trend with the crème brulee? Yeah, it’s one of our favorite desserts. And what better country in which to eat it? Of course, Hubby had coffee and I had chamomile tea. I couldn’t figure out how to order decaffeinated black tea, so I just started ordering chamomile.

The town had been pretty crowded with tourists when we first arrived, but by the time we were done dinner the place had cleared out. There were some people wandering around, but mostly it was quite. The walls in the hotel seemed a little thin, but it wasn’t too noise and we were able to fall asleep ok. Well, aside from that twin bed nonsense preventing snuggles!

Trip to France Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne I

Day 4: Pauillac-Carcassonne, Part 1. (Have I mentioned I'm long winded?)

Breakfast the next morning was the expected croissants, bread, jam, and yogurt. Later on Hubby and I discussed how it must be easier to run a B&B in France than in America since you aren’t expected to do a full, cooked breakfast.

We also grilled Dany for information. She said the fort we saw was one of three that used to protect the estuary. They were positioned so their cannon fire could cover the entire waterway.

She took the cost of the tolls in stride and said the highways were the best and fastest way to travel. She also said what we should have done was determine areas we wanted to see, then find a central location from which we could do day trips. Then move our base as needed. We were thinking, “Where were you in March when we were planning?”

It was all very interesting and informative. Then we went to pay her with our newly reactivated credit card. She said, “Oh, I kept meaning to tell you…my machine isn’t working. Do you have cash?”

I’m sure the sound of our jaws hitting the floor was audible. So Hubby turned to me and said, “I’m going to leave you here as a hostage and go find money.” I told him he could take the card and his passport into the bank and get a cash advance, which would suck since cash advances have higher APRs. But desperate times and all that. I hadn’t called the ATM card the night before, since we wanted dinner, and by morning they were closed because it was around 6 am EDT. However, when Hubby got to the bank he decided to try his ATM card, just for grins, and it worked. We were back in business.

I would have to say Wednesday was the best day of the trip. Our finances were sorted out and we had a nice relaxing day.

Not Napa
We were on the Medoc peninsula so we started out by heading north up the D2, aka Rue du Medoc, to see the wineries.

Wineries in France aren’t like the ones in Napa or Long Island. You can’t just zig-zag up the road, dropping in for a wine tasting. In France you need an appointment and get an hour long tour that includes the vineyards and cellars. We didn’t do any because we didn’t have time for all that. Also, how many in-depth discussions of vines and cellars can you hear in one day? Besides, we know a lot of that stuff already from our trips in the US.

Hubby’s theory is that in California and Long Island each vintner produces multiple wines. They’ll have a white or two along with a few reds. So there is something to taste. But in France they usually do one wine, and they do it well.However, this means there isn’t really anything to taste. "Here’s our one wine, thanks for stopping by."

This made the area seem not tourist friendly to us. Welcome to Wine Country, now go home. To add insult to injury, we frequently saw signs which translated to "Wine tastings. Open" and a directional arrow. The best we could figure out is they were pointing the way to the chateaus for people who had appointments. For us, they were just a big tease. We had to let go our preconceived notions of what a trip to wine country should entail and just enjoy the scenery.

There Is a Way
What you have to look for are Maison du Vin (which translates to House of Wine or something), or a Cave. They are both, as far as I could tell, basically wine stores. But since they carry wines from multiple vendors they have enough variety to taste. Hubby and I said to ourselves, “We’ll come to France, set up a tasting co-op and revolutionize the French wine country! We’ll be rich!”

We swung north to Saint-Estephe where we found a cathedral and a Maison du Vin. Hubby was able to taste a few wines and bought a bottle. I bought a tea towel that shows the wine appellations in France.

We headed back south, taking pictures of the grape vines and beautiful chateaus, and worked our way back to Pauillac. We found the tourist office, where we bought some cookies and a jar of flavored black tea.

Continuing south, we went through St. Julien, were we found a tasting room!

(not pictured. I don't remember which Chateau this is, but it has a British flag as well as a French one. Hubby would know.)

One family has three different labels, so they’ve consolidated their brands in one roadside room. The young woman behind the counter was a little flustered. It appeared they had cheese and crackers as well and she was serving a family in the next room when we wandered in. But once she settled down she was very nice. Hubby got to try a few wines and bought another bottle. She practiced her English. He practiced his French. It was all very cordial.

Countryside
Up north, on the way down from Paris, the country side was very open, rolling farmland. Like in the Plain States in the US. We saw lots of corn, a grain we thought was barley because it was too short to be wheat, and sunflowers. Fields of sunflowers all yellow and happy. I kept trying to get pictures of the sunflowers, but they always seemed to be facing away from me. The pictures I take never seem to convey the visual impact anyway. I suppose it would have helped if we had actually stopped the car and gotten out, but that would have been sensible.

In the south the land got a little more hilly. On the peninsula there were some gentle hills, but mostly flat, with lovely grape vines as far as the eye could see. We like grape vines since we don't get to see them much. The weather was also lovely. It was a bit warmer, but we drove around with the windows open and could smell the water. It was all very charming.

Just Feed Me
Then we made our way down to Margaux, where there was a restaurant Dany had recommended for lunch. However, as it was 2 pm, lunch was over. We were disappointed, but around the corner we found a brasserie that was still serving. Brasseries are like little bar, convenience store, cafe places and they seemed to have longer serving hours.

I decided I didn’t want anything heavy and ordered a salad with chicken, egg, and cheese. One thing that was very convenient for me was most of the restaurants had English translations, so it was easy for me to order. Hubby ordered a cheese burger and French fries, which he said was very good. Everywhere we went we ordered a bottle of Badoit, which is sparkling French mineral water. We like fizzy water.

By the time we finished eating it was around 3 pm. We were practically at Bordeaux so we went ahead and hopped on the A62 to get over to Carcassonne.

To be continued...

Trip to France Day 3: Chartres-Versailles-Pauillac II

Day 3, Part 2. Because I'm long winded. HA!

After we left Versailles we had about a 6 hour drive down to Pauillac, which is on the Medoc peninsula above Bordeaux. This was a our longest stretch in the car and we were dreading finding out what the tolls would cost.

The tolls changed from here on. On the highways in and out of Paris we passed toll booths every several kilometers. On the other highways we would get a ticket after passing through a city, then pay the toll before we got to the next city. The parts of the highway right around the city were free.

Let’s see, we passed Orleans, Tours, Poiters, and Niort. We got off south of Saintes and north of Bordeaux. The only receipt I have is on at Allainville and off at Tours and it cost E 16.50.

Our goal was a little town called Blaye, which doesn’t rate a mention in Fodor’s. On the Michelin map the road ends and there is a B in the space over the water. But the passage is narrow, so the B filled the whole space. We figured it must be a ferry, and thought we’d seen that on some other map online. We figured a bridge would just be shown.

The problem was we were running out of cash since our credit cards were locked down.

Blaye seemed to be a cute little town. Classic stone buildings with slate roofs on narrow roads. There was a really neat looking fort on the riverbank, but we didn’t know anything about it and didn’t have time to explore. We were trying to figure out were the ferry was, since the signs were severely lacking. There was actually a map of the town at the fort, which I was able to use to figure out which direction the water—and ferry landing—was.

Then we saw an ATM. It was very exciting. I ran across the street and tried to get out E100. But the machine said my institution didn’t allow it and spit my card out. I tried for E60, only to be rejected again. I went back to Hubby. We said, “OMG we’re trapped in a foreign country, running low on cash and without credit cards. We’re going to have to start washing dishes!”

I'm On a Boat!
We found our way to the ferry and were very excited to see it was still there, because that meant it was still running. It would have taken about two hours to continue on the highway down to Bordeaux and back up again. An option we really wanted to avoid, especially since we didn’t know how much the tolls would cost.

Happily, the ferry was ready to load up and depart shortly after we arrived. We figured we'd get on because they probably wouldn't kick us out mid-stream. We could sort out payment on the other shore. Also happily, the fare was E19.50, which we had, although it just about cleaned us out.

Once we were on the ferry we relaxed a little. We knew we’d make it to our B&B and we’d be able to sort out the credit cards.

We were staying at the Lou Bercail, which is a B&B run by an American woman named Dany who has lived in France since the 70s. So about the only thing American about her now is her accent!

We found the place, which was exciting, and Hubby got out and knocked on the door. And he knocked again. And again. And we were like “aaaahh! Where are they?!” I took another look at the little map she had e-mailed us and realized the little X she had made was on the other side of the block. We found our way around to the back of the house to a metal gate.

Hubby just waltzed into the back yard and then Dany appeared because she had heard the gate opening. They were in the backyard (which was quite large), so hadn’t heard us knocking. She said when we didn’t show up by 6 pm, and didn't call, she figured we had flaked on her.

And I mean it was a big back yard. She has a swimming pool as well as some open green spaces. There are lavender bushes and a massive fig tree that looked as big as my house. It was quite a nice view from our second story room. Oh, and beyond her yard was a vineyard, so we had the complete picture.

Cashflow Restored
She showed us to our room. Then dialed the number for the credit card for me. I blasted right through the security questions and didn’t mess around with the normal customer service rep. (“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am, let me transfer you.” Yeah, you’ll be sorry, alright.)

When I got to the security person I told her what was going on. She said they flagged my account because there was a charge overseas at 4 am. I was like, “Yeah! That was me! I’m in France!” She unlocked my account. Then I was like, Listen, WTF, I called you people two weeks ago? And she said she can’t see the notes from the other department. Which sounded wicked stupid, if you ask me, but the account was unlocked and that was all that mattered.

Dany sent us to a place called La Salamandre for dinner. It was down by the water. We’d been driving through town wondering were everyone was. Turns out they were all at the restaurants down by the water, too.

Seriously. When we did manage to get off the highway and into one of the little towns, they always seemed deserted. Ghost towns, everyone of them. With no people or cars in sight. It made us feel like we were in a Medal of Honor game. We wanted to start shooting Nazis. Of course, I probably would have ended up walking into a wall, or getting stuck in a corner. My avatar control skills aren't always the best.

Anyway.

It was a nice restaurant. We had a table on the terrace. There was a dock, then a parking area, then some seating, a sidewalk, and more seating against the front of the building, which is where we were. One couple had a black Lab passed out under their table. There was also a pair of scrawny black cats wandering around. Just like the cats in the French poster ads you can buy. Black cats with the one white flash at their throats.

Pizza!
We skipped appetizers. I was still full from the dinner the night before, so I just ordered a pizza margarita. In Connecticut, these pizzas have slices of tomato and mozzarella. In France, it was like a normal cheese pizza. But it had a really thin, crispy crust, and lots of cheese and a few black olives scattered over it. And it wasn’t cut, which blew my mind. It still tasted good.

Hubby must not have been thinking straight, because he ordered a duck dish. We did our best to devastate the duck population while we were in France. Take that, canard! He said it was good, but didn’t blow him away. He must have still been full too, because he ended up stealing slices of my pizza instead of focusing on his own meal. Which wasn't a problem because it's not like I'm going to eat an entire pizza by myself.

Poor Hubby tried to order a glass of wine, but they were out of each one he selected. He finally just asked for a glass of local red. It was kind of funny. For me, at least.

For dessert Hubby had a collection like mine from the previous night. There was a shot of coffee and a crème brulee and one or two other things I don’t remember.

Mine was a dollop of chocolate mousse sandwiched between two crispy lace cookies. It was all sitting in a puddle of crème anglese. Have I mentioned I think the world needs more crème anglese?

A big thunderstorm whipped through while we were eating. We could see the lightening approaching and then the rain came thundering down. People, and the two cats, ran for cover. But it didn’t last long. We were under an awning, so we didn’t get wet. Although the fringe on my Carnival Shawl got a little wet. Either it wasn't fully under the awning or it was on the ground without me realizing. No harm done, however, I just left it on the chair in our room to dry out.

Then we went back to the room and passed out.

Done: Opal Cotton Rib Socks

Ok!

Let's take a brief break from the France trip to talk about knitting. What a novel idea.

Partly because my knitting is moving along apace and I don't want to have to play catch up too much. And partly because I'm writing such detailed posts about our trip I can't keep up.

In case you're wondering, or bored, I'm writing those posts primarily so I can look back later on and remember stuff, rather than primarily for your entertainment. But hopefully you are entertained as well. I've always meant to keep a diary of our trips, but never get around to it.

Anyway. The socks.

Travel Project
I finished the first sock and started the second before I left. I went through airport security with part of a sock on my US1 5" Brittany Birch double points—and no one batted an eye.

Not in JFK heading to France. Not in CDG heading to Dublin. Not in Dublin heading home.

So HA! to all you knitting vs. airport security worry warts.

For the record: most of the storied I've heard about people's needles being confiscated have involved metal circulars. Which might be a wake up call about what you want to travel with.

Now, I did have my Knit Kit with me and in a moment of anxiety I packed the collapsible scissors in my checked luggage. The company says they are TSA approved for travel in the US, but why take chances? Especially since I knew I wouldn't need them any time soon.

Since we spent quite a bit of time in the car, looking at rolling countryside, it was easy for me to work on my mindless 2x2 sock while gazing out the window. Although I did have to wait for some quite time in a hotel room to turn the heel.

Done. Re-done.
I was very excited when I finished the second sock on the flight home.

I wasn't so excited when I put them on for a finished project picture and realized the toes didn't match.

That didn't make any sense at all, since I thought I had matched the stripes pretty well when I cast on for the second one. And I couldn't see the pattern go off anywhere in the body of the sock.

Then I held the two socks up together and realized the second one was shorter than the first in the foot. Much gnashing of teeth, measuring, and counting ensued. Hubby made the tactical error of wandering by and tickling my bare foot during this time. Of course, I growled and hissed at him. Sending him and the puppies fleeing to a different room.

Turns out the second foot was 10 rows short. Turns out when I knit the first sock I had worked to a total of 120 rows. Decided that was too short and worked to 130 rows before starting the toe shaping—but had never updated my notes.

As I finished the sock while I was squished in the center seat of an airplane, it didn't occur to me to haul out the first sock for comparison. Otherwise I might have said, "Hey, the first sock ends on blue and this second one is ending on yellow. What's that all about?"

When I apologized to Hubby and explained the tragic situation he replied, "Wow. You don't usually make such big mistakes." Which made me feel a little better, as it implied I usually knew what I was doing.

Of course, it was a simple matter to pull out the toe and rework it. But it was also terribly annoying.

I'm getting a little tired of knitting 2x2 rib cotton socks. However, when I was ready to start my next project, that was the closest to hand. But when I done these purple Second Chance Socks, I should be able to work on socks with a more interesting pattern.

Re-Cap
Yarn: Opal Cotton sock yarn
Needles: US1
Pattern: Adlibed, 2x2 rib, Cuban Heel, Princess Sole, "Heart of Blossom" toe shaping.

Trip to France Day 3: Chartres-Versailles-Pauillac

Day 3, Part 1 (I guess we did a lot this day as this post was running really long, so I decided to cut it into two part.)

We ended up sleeping in until around 8 again, which is understandable after the fire drill.

Breakfast was a buffet with scrambled eggs and sausage, in addition to the standard croissant, bread, jam, and yogurt. It was a nice change of pace.

After breakfast we wandered around the grounds a bit and took some pictures.

Then we went to check out. Yep, you know what’s coming. Our credit cards were rejected again. I thought the previous morning was a fluke, now I knew something was wrong.

Flagged?! What do you mean flagged?
The desk clerk dialed the international collect call number for me. And I had to go through all the security measures, which didn’t please me at all because it wasn’t a private place, then I had to listen to all the info about my current and available balance before I finally got to a customer service rep.

I explained that I was on a trip to France and my card was being rejected. She apologized for the inconvenience and said there was a flag on my account because of unusual activity. I was like, “Yeah, that’s me, I’m in France. I told you people two weeks ago. Lift it.” And she apologized again and said it was a different department and she would have to transfer me. But, oh, that department doesn’t open until 9 am EST.

And I flipped out. I said, “It’s 10:30 am here in France and I’m trying to check out of my hotel!” And she said there wasn’t anything she could do and I’d have to call back later.

So my questions are: Why the heck did I bother calling in advance if it didn’t work? And why the heck do they have a number for international calls if they aren’t open international hours?

Note to people who train customer service reps: Having them apologize did nothing to calm me or make me feel better while I was standing in a foreign country being embarrassed by having my credit card rejected.

So we resorted to paying with our debit card again and said, Ok, we’ll call tonight when we get to the B&B.

Just Give Me a (Road) Sign
We headed out to Versailles. Things were going well until we saw a sign for a detour because the road was closed. There was a guy sitting behind the sign, looking bored. He, of course, didn’t speak any English. But we tried to ask for directions anyway. This was an issue because we didn’t have detailed road maps, so we were basically flying blind. But we managed to stumble around and find our way to the road we needed.

The French, apparently, navigate around by city name, rather than road names or route numbers like we do in America. We were able to figure that out pretty quickly. So we looked for directional signs pointing toward our destination. Or towns on the other side of our destination knowing that as we got closer we’d start seeing signs for our destination. Still, it was a rather vague way to navigate compared to what we were accustomed to.

Also it seemed to us that while American road signs indicate what you are going to do up ahead, the French signs seemed to be indicating what you need to do here! Right here! And the French signs are tilted at an odd angle compared to American ones. American street signs are at right angels. French ones are at, I don’t know, 45 degrees or something. I suppose this sort of made them easier to read as they were facing us nicely. But for unsuspecting Americans wandering the countryside it took us a while to realize the signs were telling us to go straight, not turn left.

I admit, we did a few full rotations through a couple traffic circles. However, we didn’t do it because we couldn’t figure out how to exit them. We did it on purpose so we could take another look at all the street signs and figure out which one to follow. It was actually kind of convenient. We got a second chance and didn’t have to find a place to turn around, as we would have in a regular four-way intersection.

Despite the confusing signs, we made it to Versailles in about an hour. Of course, there was no parking. We had issues with parking almost the entire time we were in France. The country seriously needs more parking garages. Or at least better signs directing people to the parking garages, because we didn’t see many.

We managed to find street parking and Hubby fed the meter 2 Euro for an hour and a half. In the mean time, I was under a tree fighting the urge to hurl because I was so stressed out over the credit card situation. I assured Hubby I just had to get some air and get distracted so I could focus on something else, then I would calm down.

Hubby asked a man and his son parked near by how the meter worked. The guy was like “We speak English.” Hubby was like “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you.” Turns out the dude was from Long Island!

Now That's a Palace
Now, remember, Versailles is closed on Mondays. Which maybe contributed to what a mad house it was on Tuesday morning. Luckily a coworker had told me we could by our tickets in advance online. If we hadn’t, I don’t know what we would have done, because the non-ticket holder line was out of control. It doubled back on itself three times.

The ticket holder line wasn’t much better, for that matter. The entrance was at the 11 o’clock in the main courtyard. The line went across the top of the courtyard and down the side to the 4 o’clock. We were like, Holy Smokes, our meter is going to run out.

But for all that, it only took about 10 or 15 minutes to get through. I theorized that it looked like there were a lot of people in line, but really everyone was in groups and family units, so we didn’t really have to wait for every single person to get through.

So I would strongly urge you to buy your tickets in advance. I would also urge you to use the restroom somewhere before you get to the palace because the lines for the ladies room were at least as long as the line to get inside. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, but you get the idea. The men’s room, of course, had hardly any line at all. Luckily, I didn’t need to visit the facilities while we were there.

We also didn’t need the audio tour, as Hubby was able to walk around naming all the people in the portraits and why they were important. I knew enough to be dangerous because I’ve read The Three Musketeers by Dumas, although it made Hubby roll his eyes. Still, he’ll relate stuff to movies for me so he doesn’t have to explain everything.

Hubby thought it was wild to be walking the same hallways as all the historical people he has studied. We admired the garish decorations and peered out the windows at the gardens.

The program Hubby was on didn’t include a visit to Versailles, which surprised us. We don’t know why, maybe the distance, crowds or expense did it. They did go to a different chateau for a tour. Hubby said he learned that they had fancy bedrooms were they received guests, but they slept in a plain room usually located through a secret door. He said when the French Revolution started a mob of women broke into Versailles and destroyed Marie Antionette’s bedroom, but she was safe in her secret bedroom. And we could see the door, which was cool. I think they should have the door open so you could at least see inside.

When I went to France in college my friends and I went out to Versailles. I remember not being impressed with the Hall of Mirrors. I don’t know if I hadn’t heard a good description, or seen pictures, but I think I expected it to be more of a fun house hall, and it isn’t. This time around I was more impressed, which pleased me.

We ended up managing to walk through all the public areas in a little over an hour and a half. We did skip the last art gallery of French History, and the Opera House was closed for renovations. The gardens were another ticket and we decided to skip them as well. We were back to the car just before 2 and we didn’t have either a parking ticket or a boot, so the day was looking up.