It was, officially, a working day off to brief the "minister" and the "ambassador" on the progress of the Philippines in the Paris climate negotiations.
The "ambassador" was not able to come, because her assistant vice-minister opted for the Louvre, but the "minister" was there together with the "solicitor general"
"MINISTER": I want fresh air. Can we get out of Paris for the briefing"?
That's how we ended at the Chateau de Versailles, previously Louis XIII's hunting lodge which the Sun King converted into a royal palace in 1661.
We talked adaptation while walking the many rooms of the palace amidst an annoying throng of tourists, stopping briefly at the Royal Chapel to relive the wedding of Louis XVI and the (in)famous Marie-Antoinette in 1770, trying hard to acquaint ourselves to what Wikipedia says as "the finest example of French Baroque architecture and ecclesiastical decoration" as we got to the adaptation goal, before the requisite photo-ops at the Hall of Mirrors where the French royalty held court as we hit the final notes on loss and damage.
Outside, a piece of the 800-hectare Gardens of Versailles beckon from the palace windows, our closest encounter because of a freezing wind that also cut short our exploration of the palace's most familiar vantage point.
We wrapped up with tasks on developing language and following what, and a lunch of salted pancakes and wine.
But it was a fine Sunday afternoon so on the way back, after transferring from train to Metro at the Javel-Andre Citroen Line 10 Station, and from Metro to Metro at the Odeon Line 4 Station, I easily convinced the "minister" to disembark at the Cite Station supposedly to hear mass at the Notre Dame de Paris, the seat of French catholicism and the church most identified with of St. Joan of Arch, site of many royal marriages and Napoleon I's coronation and requiem masses for notable personalities and (in)famous suicides, and pray that we did not spent so much for nothing in the ongoing Paris climate talks.
I suddenly wanted to pee real bad.
It's Christmas time in Paris, I'm cold and tired, and I miss my bike...
The "ambassador" was not able to come, because her assistant vice-minister opted for the Louvre, but the "minister" was there together with the "solicitor general"
"MINISTER": I want fresh air. Can we get out of Paris for the briefing"?
That's how we ended at the Chateau de Versailles, previously Louis XIII's hunting lodge which the Sun King converted into a royal palace in 1661.
We talked adaptation while walking the many rooms of the palace amidst an annoying throng of tourists, stopping briefly at the Royal Chapel to relive the wedding of Louis XVI and the (in)famous Marie-Antoinette in 1770, trying hard to acquaint ourselves to what Wikipedia says as "the finest example of French Baroque architecture and ecclesiastical decoration" as we got to the adaptation goal, before the requisite photo-ops at the Hall of Mirrors where the French royalty held court as we hit the final notes on loss and damage.
Outside, a piece of the 800-hectare Gardens of Versailles beckon from the palace windows, our closest encounter because of a freezing wind that also cut short our exploration of the palace's most familiar vantage point.
We wrapped up with tasks on developing language and following what, and a lunch of salted pancakes and wine.
But it was a fine Sunday afternoon so on the way back, after transferring from train to Metro at the Javel-Andre Citroen Line 10 Station, and from Metro to Metro at the Odeon Line 4 Station, I easily convinced the "minister" to disembark at the Cite Station supposedly to hear mass at the Notre Dame de Paris, the seat of French catholicism and the church most identified with of St. Joan of Arch, site of many royal marriages and Napoleon I's coronation and requiem masses for notable personalities and (in)famous suicides, and pray that we did not spent so much for nothing in the ongoing Paris climate talks.
I suddenly wanted to pee real bad.
It's Christmas time in Paris, I'm cold and tired, and I miss my bike...
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