Throughout history the magnificent palace at Versailles has been the scene of many nasty falls. Built by Louis the 14th, the palace represents a total disregard the monarchs of the seventeenth century had for their subjects. It stands for Ain your face@ opulence and arrogance. Now, setting all that aside it is just beautiful, marvelous, and breathtaking. Besides its beauty Versailles has been the sight of several historical history changing events and famous Afalls.@ The first was the fall of Louis the 16th and his bride, the cake loving Marie Antoinette who both lost their heads and the monarchy for France, next was the fall of Bonaparte followed by the ill-conceived treaty of Versailles which ended the first world war and set the stage for the second great war. Finally, Versailles was the scene of the great fall of Frances Hadley in the 21st century. History has yet to fully record this event. In fact the participants were not even aware that the event happened in such a fashion as to be labeled a great fall. We observers thought it was just a simple fall. Since this, is history being written. Let me start with some background information so you to can share in the excitement of being there, so to speak.
The date is Friday, April 21, 2000. In Christendom this is also Good Friday, in England this is the day before the Queen=s birthday. For the Hadley family, Kent and Frances, this is the start of our London vacation. One month, to the day, after our thirtieth wedding anniversary which was the occasion for this trip, we were not trying to slight the queen=s birthday it was a coincidence.
Fran and I both checked the mail several times before we left and quickly went to our hotel room to check for messages on arrival in London only to realize that we were not invited to the Queen=s birthday party. Surely she knew or could have known that we were in town. In fact when I got off the plane at Gatwick Airport, I searched everywhere for the welcoming party. Here I was returning to the homeland, the first Kent back on the old sod in centuries, but no one was there to welcome me back. We shed no tears it is their loss and now we had even more time to see the town. There were going to be no stuffy royal receptions to attend, or sloppy ring kissing, curtseys and bows to waste our precious time. I=ll just drop the queen a note to remind her that she forgot about us. Now I am wondering if I had forgot to mail her birthday card, we had so much to do in getting ready for this trip, I might have forgotten.
We left Gatwick Airport, not in a carriage pulled by white horses and attended to by top hatted footmen no, we left Gatwick in a shuttle bus. Once more we would not let disappointments interfere with our seeing London. After all even if the royal family was ignoring our visit, there was so much to see and do. Fran and I were very intent on getting the full English immersion experience using every minute in this foreign culture and country. We were determined not to miss a single item, building, or snippet of history. After all we had just spent 20 hours traveling from Milwaukee, Wisconsin and we wanted to see London. It was in this spirit that I sat on the front seat of our little bus and focused my eyes on what the first sights in London were to be. I was so excited knowing that just around the corner when we leave the airport I would be in actual England. I have played this scene in my mind many times and now it was just seconds away. What would be the first sight, maybe an English castle, or a British gent dressed in top hat and bumbershoot, possibly even a roadhouse with pilgrims walking in the front door? My fantasy was to see a knight slaying a dragon, or Sir Lawrence Olivier inviting us all to Camelot. We were in the country, several miles outside of the city of London. Any of these sights would have been true to my fantasy and now I was really there, out of the airport in the English countryside staring at my first English sight --- A McDonald=s Restaurant, complete with a drive up window and a special on Big Macs. More than 40 gadzillions sold even in jolly old England. I was ignored by the queen and stripped of my English fantasy and still seated in the front seat of our little bus which was playing rap music on its radio. I continued to stare in all directions to get a glimpse of something typically English. To the left was McDonald=s, the right was Blockbuster, straight ahead was Burger King and KFC brought up the rear. If nothing else I was comforted to know that we Americans were keeping the Brits fed and entertained. We drove for forty-five minutes and during this time I saw every American food and entertainment franchise that could be seen and a few I did not know existed. The shuttle bus radio continued playing the latest hip hop tunes interspersed with rap and even an interview with a fan from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Fran and I had certainly arrived in London. I sat back in my front row seat safe in the knowledge that we would be getting to our hotel about the time for afternoon tea, and our typical British experience would start.
We checked into our very typical, for real, London hotel called: The Sherlock Holmes. Habib met us at the desk and Mohamed showed us to our room. I asked about afternoon tea and they suggested Starbucks which was just next door and owned by their cousin, Abdul. Later in the week we would meet Uncle Faisal who drove a gypsy cab, but I don=t want to get ahead of myself.
After our bus ride I was reticent to think that anything was original. I even saw the hotel as a re-creation of what a turn of the century English hotel would look like. There was the dark wood paneling. The staircase hidden by the potted plants, a bar off to the side with private cushioned chairs discreetly placed to be out the view of a casual observer. Each night we passed through the bar and found people trying not to be noticed. They looked like someone=s wife or husband, but not the right wife or husband for the partner they were sitting with. Any of them would fit as characters in a spy novel. Our room was just as expected, comfortable, small and clean. Perfect not to spend any time in and we did not want to spend time in the room.
We quickly changed our clothes and forgot that we had been awake, except for a short nap on the plane, for more than 30 hours. The time was at hand for the Hadley=s to see the town. Look out London here we come. Before we left Milwaukee we carefully plotted out each minute of every day. The itinerary had a sequence of places to see that wasted no time. Included was a list of buses we needed to catch and discount tickets we needed to use at the various venues we had chosen. Fran and I had spent countless evenings at the computer on the internet planning this schedule, mapping out each step. We had ordered the discount cards and booklets, so as to maximize our time and money while we were here. What we had not counted on was forgetting to take the itinerary with us. We had left it on the printer in the office at home. At least now we had the anticipation of checking it when we got back home to see if we did everything we had planned to do.
Day one was to be the open top double deck sightseeing bus ride. We quickly ran down Baker St. to Oxford turned right and found the buses. There were several to choose from and each had a pitch man trying to convince us of the merits of using their particular line. We had already selected one before we left home, but that information was still in Milwaukee so now we needed to trust the pitch men. We were so excited to see the famous London double decker red buses and we wanted to keep our trip authentic so we chose the brown bus? Oh well, they all seemed the same. We climbed aboard and went directly upstairs. The guide was great. He kept up a narrative the entire way, Fran and I kept turning our necks to the right then the left, turn over there, look here, see that, turns back again, look up ahead, the sights were incredible and they just kept on coming. Roy, our guide, droned on with non stop descriptive gems like: "Through those trees, just to the left is Buckingham Palace, see the flag? Neither do I, the queen must not be there.@ or Aon the right in the third building past the black door with the red potted plant just to the left of the stone monument was the place Charles Dickens used to visit.@ I was on hallowed ground, almost I mean, I was driving by just over there was something else Roy droned on about. Overwhelmed, stimulated and cold. We moved down stairs to sit inside after all we could still hear Roy. The bus ride ended where we started and we began the walk back toward our hotel. This is when we learned that London has little use for street name signs. Even if they did use them the streets often changed names from block to block. After all they have thousands of years of history and famous people to name streets after so it only makes sense to keep the name for a few blocks then change to a new name. However, this practice did make it somewhat difficult for the casual tourist who forgot to take his itinerary. Each of our days from this point on turned into a new chapter of AGetting Lost in London.@ We searched for someone who could speak English. Naturally we sought out someone who shared our facial features and skin color. However, we may have had better luck asking one of the millions of Orientals on the street. After several failed attempts we did reach Orchard, which became Baker, which took us to our hotel.
We had tickets to Phantom of the Opera later that night, so we planned to eat close to the hotel. We chose The Original Fish and Chips place also next to the hotel. Our waitress spoke only French so we did not have that embarrassing language problem. We all pointed to places on the menu, did a lot of nodding and smiling, she left and we waited. After awhile, she brought my fish, chips, and peas. She also brought Fran=s chips and peas, but no fish. She left, we waited and waited and waited and waited. Finally we called her back and did some more pointing and nodding to ask where Fran=s fish was. A man came over with a third language to join the nodding, pointing, gesturing, and smiling group. They seemed to be aware that Fran had no fish, but were not concerned. After several more nods a light bulb inside the heads of the dim went off and they gestured that Fran would get fish and she did. We ate, laughed some more, nodded on our way out and laughed at the place each time we passed it for the rest of the week.
That night we took a London cab, a black cab, to Her Majesty=s Theater to see Phantom of the Opera. The performance was everything we wished it to be. Both of us were out of breath at the end of the show, and it could not have been any better. We topped off the night with a walk to Piccadilly Circus, arguably one of the most famous corners in the world. The excitement was electrifying. There were street performers everywhere, with street oddities prancing around and the tourists gawking. We then walked far enough to be officially lost again, realizing that we have now been awake for almost 54 hours we jumped into a cab, a black cab.
We greeted Easter Sunday refreshed and rested after a good night’s sleep. I had located a Methodist Church for service and we walked the few blocks. We were greeted by many friendly congregants and were ready for a good worship experience. Directly after the start of service, during the first hymn, Fran leaned over to tell me that a man walked in with a cat on his head. I have always been one not to miss any man wearing a cat on his head so I stared in the indicated direction. Sure enough there was a cat on his head. The cat sat there for the whole service, even while the man below the cat collected the offering and took communion. To my knowledge the cat did not take communion, but did receive a blessing. Eccentricity was redefined with this man. The Easter Sunday service was great, and the people were so welcoming it almost made us forget about the cat as the hat. (This is a fast forward of three years and not part of the story but an update on the man and the cat. We returned to London and this church. The original cat had died, the man actually turned out to be a woman who besides being eccentric was not very friendly toward me when I approached her to ask about the cat. So the reason for the cat will remain a mystery.)
The remainder of this day passed with great sightseeing at the Tower of London, and a typical London rain shower which was really quite pleasant. We learned how to navigate the city=s subways or tube as they call it and quickly realized that this was the only way to get around in this city. The night was topped off at China Town with a walk to Piccadilly Square again and a session of being lost in London. We got to bed a little sooner since tomorrow was a big day. I was going to set my watch by Greenwich mean time.
Since this was our first actual day of actual sightseeing it was also our first actual day of standing in line, or queuing as the Brits would say. Standing in line can be done many different ways. The first would be the AI just want to get to the front of this line as quick as possible and I don=t like lines@ way. The second way is the fidgeter asking Ahow much longer is this going to take?@ The third is my way and that is to make the most out of the line. First there are other people and people are always very entertaining, second there is nothing I can do about the wait, I=m in line and I have to wait. This is how I waited in the Tower of London line. I am the one who likes to think he observes the goofy things other people do and not the one who does goofy things that other people observe. So this is my confession of the first goofy thing I ever did while standing in line. I walk with a cane, not just for looks but I need it to steady a leg that goes South when I want to go North. When I am standing still, the leg needs to go in no direction so the cane is not needed. I hang it on my forearm. In order that the cane hanging on my forearm does not slip off I hold my arm parallel with the ground. After long periods of standing I tend to rock on my heels and when I rock my cane, which is hanging on my forearm will also rock. When I rock forward, the cane will rock outward and when I rock backwards it will rock inwards. Here=s the scene, I am rocking and my cane is rocking in the opposite direction plus I am in a line of closely packed people. Each time I rocked forward the cane rocked between the legs of the gentleman to my rear. As time went on my rocking became more intense and the intrusion of the cane into his groin likewise became more intense. Little did I know that I was robbing this man of possible future fatherhood each time I rocked. Finally, his bride=s giggling made me turn and see my cane squarely hitting him in genital bull=s-eye, so to speak. I immediately withdrew the offending cane and apologized. The young man looked at me with this silly smile and said in a proper British accent: Ano harm done sir@ and his bride continued giggling. For the remainder of the day this couple did their best to avoid standing anywhere near me.
Excitement comes in all kinds of packages. For me it is standing with one foot in the western and one foot in the eastern hemisphere. Excitement is also checking and setting my watch to the clock that really Ameans@ time. We took the train out to Greenwich and walked up the mountain to the observatory. On top was a time museum and a great view of the surrounding area. Fran and I got a little confused in the museum and sheepishly asked what time it was. Imagine here we were standing in front of one hundred and sixty-two timepieces and we ask for the correct time. However, it seems only a few of the clocks were set to daylight-saving time. I felt better. Then the guard explained to us that it was the chaplain’s job to set the clocks, this little bit of knowledge really made me happy, as a teacher I teach the kids this fact and to know that it was actually true made me happy. Next we walked over to the maritime museum and became absorbed in how the British rewrote history to maintain the image of the mightiest. The morning was topped off with a stop at a real pub for beer and food. I was so amazed at each of these establishments that they were able to capture the ambience of a really old English pub. Here the food was great and the beer awful. I was told it would taste like donkey piss, although I have never knowingly drunk donkey piss I am certain if I ever do it will taste just like English beer.
As most of you know, my name is Kent, no big surprise. Just outside London is a whole county also named Kent. I do not claim to be named after it or it after me, but it was a definite destination for our trip. We booked a day trip bus tour to Leeds Castle, Dover, and Canterbury, all in the County of Kent. The day was sunny and bright. The ride was terrific with me once more in the front seat. Our guide was very informative and entertaining. However, each sight we saw was somehow turned into a cut against the French. In fact the closer we got to the English Channel the more she attacked the French. Napoleon was called AOld Boney@, each of the wars was the fault of the French and the prevailing winds when cold and wet were always from France. Aside from her fetish we had a very enjoyable day and saw the county of Kent. Leeds Castle was the most beautiful sight we had ever seen. There was even a dog collar museum on the grounds, and not even Disney could concoct a sight to top that. Imagine all in one week. We see a cat as a hat and a dog collar as art.
Dover was the next stop, and we had ten minutes at the waterfront. I love water and swim every day. The English Channel is one of those famous swimming places I was really excited to see. Since I had swum in Lake Michigan on a New Years Day, I felt it was only proper to get wet in the Channel in April. I took off toward the water. Fran was frantic thinking I really would dive in but I only got my feet wet. I enjoyed the clammy cold feeling during the ride to Canterbury knowing it was from the actual water from the English Channel.
Canterbury was so exciting I have trouble putting it into words. The Cathedral was thrilling and the town was just as I expected it to be. We ate sandwiches in a park while the rest of the group patronized the tour=s restaurant. The day was a success and we were greeted with another typical London shower on our return to the city.
We ducked into a Sicilian restaurant to avoid the rain. It was a small affair with only six or seven tables. We sat in the middle and listened while our waiter explained the menu to us in Italian, once again we escaped that silly language problem. We accepted what he said, I pointed to a section of the menu and asked that he choose the food. This brought over a second person and the two discussed the situation for a while then told us, again in Italian, what we were ordering. Before he left, I did order a glass of wine for Fran and me and he brought a bottle. For the next three hours they brought food to our table, cleared plates and brought more food. We were the only tourists in the place and the other patrons were most interested in hearing about our visit to their city. The dinner was topped off with the waiter making some sort of dessert at our table, we finished the bottle of wine and ate several pounds of wonderful food. Fortunately the hotel was close.
This is Wednesday and if it is Wednesday it must be Paris. We scheduled a trip on the new Euro Star train that goes under the channel at 186 MPH and gets you to Paris in three hours. We arrived in Paris in three hours, so far so good. Now through a multi level ironic twist of fate we had just hosted a couple from Paris in Milwaukee. We showed them all of our world famous sights from Holy Hill to Water Street Brewery, and they agreed to reciprocate when we got to Paris. All Fran and I had to do was get to the Opera Building, make a phone call to our friends, get on a bus toward the Tracadora and get off when we got there. Then we would stand on the corner and our friends would pick us up. Sounds easy? Wrong. First off we took a cab to the Opera House, when we arrived the bus was waiting and we forgot the phone call. On arrival at Tracadora we could find no phones. We went into a museum. Paris has a lot of them, and searched for a phone, no luck. However, Fran did get thrown out of a bathroom for not having purchased a ticket before entering. Next we went down into the subway searching for a phone but no luck. All the people we asked were unable or unwilling to tell us where the phones were. Finally we found one hidden on a street. I put in my credit card which it rejected. Here I was in Paris for not even an hour and already I had been rejected by several people, my wife was almost arrested for trying to pee and now this inanimate object, the phone, has the nerve to reject me as well. We surrendered and went into a store put ourselves at their mercy, allowed them to laugh at us and then use their phone. We reached our friends and set up the time to meet them. Fran and I had just enough time to get lunch. We walked over to a hot dog stand and each ordered a hot dog and a bottle of water. The bill came to 121 franks or $22.00, welcome to Paris.
Our friends came to meet us and we were certainly glad to be in their most capable hands. They are lovely people and we enjoyed every minute of our time together. It was their intention and quest to show us every sight in Paris in the six hours we had left before our train took us back to London. To save the suspense, we did it. These people loved their city so much that to leave out a single sight would have been a catastrophe. Paris is a beautiful city and I did feel guilty only giving it six hours. Here=s how the day went.
Danielle was the driver, Martine was the navigator, Fran and I were the scared passengers in the back. With white knuckles we curved and turned into very narrow streets and came out in front of the significant sights. We saw the Eiffel Tower, and had time to walk around the grounds, stare up it from below and take pictures. We saw Notre Dame and had time to tour this magnificent cathedral. We saw the Louvre, Bastille, The Arch of Triomphe and the tunnel where Lady Di was killed, The Basilica of the Sacred Heart, and Paris traffic. Most of all we saw Versailles. Remember Versailles? This is a story about Versailles.
What a building, it went on for blocks. Fran was walking in the middle of Martine and me. She was talking to Martine and I was gawking. Then Fran looked up and took in the enormity of the building. At the same moment a concrete stoop popped up out of the ground and she walked right into it and fell flat on her face. She had the wind knocked out of her, badly cut her knee and her elbow and both were dripping with blood. We picked her up and wiped her off the best we could with what was at hand. Fran, the consummate trooper refused to let this fall slow her down. She continued on as if nothing had happened. However, the blood would not stop and eventually we had to set her down. We went back to our friend=s apartment and Martine got Fran cleaned up and her pants washed. Daniel and I spent the time staring at the best view in all of Paris, out their window. This was better than any of the popular sightseeing places. Every significant sight was in view from their balcony. Daniel pointed out the sights and I stood in awe. Their apartment was the highlight of our Paris trip.
With Fran cleaned up and the blood stopped for the time being, we resumed our street level tour. This was a most enjoyable, if somewhat scary, ride through the city. They got us to the train station with almost twenty minutes to spare and we said our sad goodbyes to these wonderful people. When we got onto the train, Fran mentioned that her arm was somewhat stiff. I suggested that we stop at the hospital when we got back to London. She had other thoughts and on our return to London all I could get her to do was put ice on it at the hotel. So on our arrival at the hotel, we sneaked into the bar trying hard not to be seen by any of the guests that were trying hard not to be seen. This was difficult each time we entered the hotel we always had to play the part of a mystery novel character, but we chose the Sherlock Holmes. We secured the ice with a minimum of details and quickly went up to our small but adequate room. Fran put the elbow on ice and I went to sleep.
We were greeted the next morning with a beautiful London day, cloudy and a chance of rain, possibly Athunderey@ in the afternoon. This was our last full day in London and we had a lot left to do. We were excited to get going. However, Fran had trouble coordinating an outfit with the funny colors her arm had turned. Once more I suggested that we see a doctor, but no was her final answer. There were many sights left to be seen and we started the morning with a quick trip to Paddington Station. The map showed that all we needed to do was to get on the Bakerloo subway and travel one stop then get off. It would take us maybe ten minutes at best. However, I had another plan. We would walk. If you remember back at the start of this wordy travelogue, I told about getting lost each day in London. I am glad you remembered because I did not. Once more we were helplessly lost and never did find Paddington Station. We had a great day sightseeing though, seeing Abbey Road, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, and St. Martins in the Fields. We had one more Alost@ experience this time while riding a bus. I was trying to read my map and soon the fellow passengers began to offer their suggestions. A proper gentleman said we needed to find the #eight to which a an elderly woman with a shopping bag replied: Ano deary, they need the #seven." The gentleman retorted with: Anow lovey, you know the #seven will stop before the #eight.@ We sat and enjoyed the ruminations then got off and took the #10 and ended up at the British Museum. We had lunch in the Café in the Crypt at St. Martins in the Fields. We ate among the dearly departed, admiring their final resting place and savoring a delicious lunch.
Speaking of departing the time had come for us to say good bye to London. Sadly we packed our things and rode the same little bus, which brought us to the hotel, back to the airport. The ride back was uneventful. Fran=s arm had turned a lovely shade of magenta in honor of our departure. The flight home was most uneventful, except that Fran=s arm did change colors to more of a royal blue to pay homage to the good old U.S. of A. By the time we had arrived in Milwaukee, the arm was many different colors, but since it was almost double its size the extra colors were needed to decorate the new bulk. Once more Fran refused medical attention. Although, when we woke up on Saturday morning, she no longer could ignore the enormous stump of many colors hanging from her shoulder. The x-rays confirmed a fractured elbow, the cast they put on only sealed the truth. The emergency room crew was suitably amused by the woman who broke her arm at Versailles. It is highly possible that Fran was the only person that came into their hospital that day with a broken arm from a fall at Versailles.
What a trooper she was, three days, twenty three hours of traveling, two continents, Paris, London, St. Louis, Milwaukee, all with a broken arm. This truly was a trip of a lifetime for us. And now I have the pleasure of telling the irony that it was Fran and not me, the one with the multitude of medical issues, who had the only health problem on the trip.
