Second Sunday in Paris. (Surely we're "locals" by now, right?)

 When we looked out the apartment window on Sunday morning, there appeared to be some kind of regatta on the Seine.  I stopped counting once 50 four-man sculls had passed.  It went on for about half an hour.

It was Stake Conference in the Paris Stake today.  And they don't have a building big enough to house all the members, so they rent a convention center in Versailles.  While waiting for the train to Versaille, we saw this graffito on the train station that, compared to American graffiti, had exceptionally cute lettering and some rather darling little figures.  Not sure what it's about, but we'll chalk it up to "Art"... again.

After Stake Conference is over, most of the local members take a picnic lunch into the grounds of Versailles and have a marvelous time on the lawns, kicking back in reclining chairs, riding ponies, living like Louis XIV for a few hours.  We, on the other hand, made the mistake of taking a tour of the chateau which, just like the last time we were here, was crowded, hot, and garish.  I made a solemn vow to HDH never to bring her back to Versailles again.  But I did want to see the Hall of Mirrors (it was under renovation last time we were here.).  

After we'd sprinted through the tour, leaving a trail of off-balance tourists who were just blissfully listening to their audio-guide descriptions of the fabric on the Queen's bedspread before this impatient family brusquely pushed them aside, we found a cafeteria that had signs up saying expressly, in several different languages and with multiple exclamation points, that YOU CAN'T TAKE FOOD OUT OF HERE.  Then there appeared to be nowhere to sit, which is ridiculous.  We couldn't chalk that particular example of idiocy up to "Art," not even some kind of "Art Happening" or "Performance Art," so we smuggled the baguette sandwich and mineral water out in my bag and headed for the gardens, only to discover that to get into the gardens you had to pay more money because there was a musical water display going on.  (More "Art," darn it!)  Totally fed up, we headed back to our hotel.  

But despite all that, we snapped some lovely pics of Versailles.

EBH asking to be picked up.  This is a frequent event.

E and me in the Hall of Mirrors.

Since we went through so much grief to see this, I though I should at least include a photo.

 And... because this is Paris... there was a giant sculpture of a pair of stiletto heels made entirely out of saucepans and lids at the end of the Hall of Mirrors.

E on the train back to Paris

Tonight was our appointment with the top of the Eiffel Tower.  We got there just at dusk, and the view was, as expected, incredible.  H put on her happy face, because she is deathly scared of heights, and gave thanks to God when we were all safely on terra firma again.

 A lovely 7-year-old watches the fairy lights on the Eiffel Tower after coming down from the top level.

Of course the girls rode this carousel, at 9:30pm on a Sunday night.  We promised them.

... and finally, the walk back to our apartment.