Bonaparte's Retreat

Be assured, Paris has its attractions - great food, beautiful women, multinational fascinating crowds,intriguing ways to get lost. All very fine, but what we needed post-overload was A Day In The Country.

Versailles and its crowds sounded too much for us, so we opted for the bucolic attractions of Fontainbleu, 55kms into the country. As the train departed from Gare de Lyon, we took the opportunity to investigate the platform required later in the week when we would be departing for the Cote d'Azure ~ did I mention we would be spending the next two weeks flitting about Cannes and Nice? Excuse me if I forgot to mention that!
A comical interplay preceded our departure where a helpful Creole woman and Kim both attempted to give each other directions to le Gare's Lyon and Nord. Both knew where they were but were under the misapprehension the other didn't.

According to the guidebook, the trip to Fontainbleu took just over an hour, which made it inconceivable we thought we needed to alight at Le Roi Bois when stairs labelled "Fontainbleu" caught our eye. Squeezing between a gaggle of prams we hopped off the train onto the station and back onto Le tren when it became apparent this exit simply led from one side of the tracks to the other. Le Gare de Fontainbleu was the next station! An afternoon appreciating the attractions of Le Roi Bois (coiffeurs, super marches) etc was not quiet what we had in mind.

Hello, here we are at Gare de Fontainbleu and it's not taken more than 30 minutes! It soon became apparent where the other 30 minutes would be spent - on the bus!!. It was initially comical (there's that word again!), how many old and young, black and white, hot and bothered passengers could be squeezed onto "Le Special". We began to dread every slowing of the bus as more and more and more of humanity hopped on. The black dude located just under my armpit was mopping his shaven head with his hanky as the temperature rose to almost unbearable levels, when suddenly we were there!

Now there are a lot of things you could say about the French, but the acceptance of poor quality food and service is not one of them. In many global tourist traps, you would need to queue for crappy fast food and surly service, but the town surrounding Fontainbleu provided a plethora of cafes, bistros and brasseries offering fantastic food. We were seated at La Grande faster than you can say Jacquie Robinson, perusing extensive menus and drinking Languedoc rose. Salade Caesar appealed and while Kim ate her au natural, mine was enhanced by crevetts and coquilles.

"I don't care if we don't visit the gardens of Fontainbleu, I'm happy to stay here all afternoon!". I had to agree, it was a great option. Surrounded by happy satisfied families, beautiful women, intriguing men and attentive waiters is not a bad way to waste an afternoon. A double decker carousel featuring a flying pig pumped out a jolly tune, accompanied by the global sound of clattering skateboards as the towns youth unsuccessfully attempted reverse Ollie's.

Knowing we would kick ourselves if we didn't visit the attractions of Fontainbleu, we ambled over to the entrance gates following a shared dessert of Tarte Tatin accompanied by a scoop of vanilla. No charge! Just wander on through. Verdant lawns surrounded ancient trees and the Chateau Royalle and the knobbliest paving stones possible - we are glad we have stout footwear. Holiday makers inexpertly rowed round and round Le lac artificial as a groundsman began his never ending task of keeping the lawns mown ~ a job similar to that of painting the Harbour Bridge.

You can Google Fontainbleu for websites that will state: Fontainbleu is a name that is famous in the entire world, a magical name that evokes for some a forest, for others a chateau, a name that still shines from its royal history. For me it evokes a time when Kings ruled and serfs knew their place. I almost felt sorry for the thousand of staff, courtesans and craftsmen who must have had a tough time of it come Le Revolution!.