Day Nine: 30 Aug. 2002

It's a beatiful sunny morning, and we're ready for a day trip, away from the crowds, traffic, and stink of Paris. We choose Chantilly - birthplace of whipped cream and home to what we hear is a breathtaking chateau. Unfortunately we must start or journey at the super-crowded and stinky Chatelet Les Halles station. We stall for a few minutes on the Rue de Rivoli - I get some Euros from a cash machine and we purchase a Croque Monsieur and a "Yop" yogurt drink at a sidewalk stand.

Then it's off to the races. We take the train to Gare du Nord, where Kathryn negotiates buying an RER return ticket to Chantilly. I'm curious to see the ground-level of the station, which was featured in "Amelie." We have half an hour before the train leaves, so we find our way to the surface. To get to the older part of the station, though, we'd have to get our tickets canceled. Dang. Kathryn talks to a cashier, and we end up with just a few minutes in the old station. Beautiful. Wasn't this where Monet painted his train station paintings? (No, that was Gare St. Lazare. Oh well.) I don't find Amelie's beautiful station clock, but I take a couple pictures and we head back underground to catch our train.

We grab a chocolate "Pain Suisse" at the snack bar (called, if you can believe it, Les Delices aux RER) and then get on our train, taking a seat on the 2nd level. We sit across from a mom and her charming, talkative son. Soon we're zooming into the countryside, and Kathryn has asked the boy to teach her a few French words. He's stumped as to the word for "elbow," though. "Je parle Francais, mais je ne sais pas cette!" he says. As we go through St. Denis, which looks like another run-down suburb of Paris, Kathryn tells me a little about the history of the town - evidently nearly every king and queen of France was buried there. We go through rolling hills, cornfields, and arrive at Chantilly station.

The town is bigger than I'd pictured (I somehow imagined that the chateau would be visible from the train) and we're not exactly sure where to go until Kathryn asks directions. There's a path through a wooded area, and at the end we see what looks like a chateau. It's so quiet here, after Paris!

After we clear the woods, there's a massive Hippodrome, and we curve to the left to go around it. On our left is a magnificent street full of 18th and 19th century mansions, and lined with trees. Even the plane overhead seems to be going in slow motion. Yeah, we could live here. Our feet are killing us. "Do we even need to see the chateau?" Kathryn asks. "I feel like we got what we came here for." I agree. The "chateau" turns out to be only the stables of the chateau, which house the Musée Vivant du Cheval (Living Museum of the Horse). The stables are like none I've ever seen - it's a huge echoey marble hall that seems to go on forever, with a one-ring performance area in the center. We visit the sweet horses currently inhabiting the stables. One gives Kathryn lots of kisses. We briefly rest our feet, and then hike out to the Chateau. Wow. The ornate, pointy-roofed building seems to float on its reflecting pool, which doubles as a moat. Our cartes musées get us in, and we also purchase tickets to the train that takes visitors around the grounds. The train is currently elsewhere, so we enter the chateau and browse through the impressive art collection. We check out the library as well - a classic Victorian-style arrangement with an upper gallery, fireplace, and thousands of red, green, and brown leather-bound volumes. Mmmm. I am pleased to see that it is actually used - there are paper placeholders here and there to indicate that a book is being borrowed. We buy postcards at the giftshop, and Kathryn spies the train boarding outside. Zut!

We hurry to it, but it's slow to leave. A young girl and her grandparents sit in front of us. The voice for the English part of the narration is hilarious, nearly a parody of a hyper-obsequious upper-class accent. The French grandma even mocks it for the girl's amusement: "Ark-i-tect-oor!" Hee hee. The train jolts us through the gardens, around the lakes, past the "allegory" sculptures. The gardens are a strange combination of actual organic-looking woods and carefully laid-out open areas. There are canals connecting some of the swan-filled lakes, and we are a little sorry we didn't choose the boat ride instead of the train. We hop off near the Hameau (Hamlet) and enjoy some Chantilly cream on apple & strawberry tarts. The apple tart is fine, but the strawberry? Mon Dieu! The Hameau is a faux country village built in the midst of the chateau's stately gardens. Marie Antoinette fans may remember that she, too, had a little hamlet built, so that she could play "peasant." Chateau de Chantilly's hamlet was designed by the same guy. What a job! We meander back through the gardens on foot, stop to use the chateau's W.C., and leave for town, taking another path around the hippodrome. In the woods we see a woman picking blackberries. We rest at a crossroads and see a kind French papa playing with his toddler. So cute! The toddler boy and Kathryn flirt, of course. We take the train back to Paris a little early. We're hungry for some "real food" (we realize we've had little more than sugar all day!), and we walk to the Les Halles area, to dine at Le Louchebem. Yikes. The food is okay, but the waiter is an apathetic young punk and the "non-smoking" section is plenty smoky.

On to Day Ten