The grounds of le château de Cheverny are lovely and the colors of the gardens distract me, deep beautiful red especially. Weeping willows, swans swimming calmly on a tiny lake, weeping willows. The castle itself is remarkably small, not being a lodging place for the royal court; they were obligated to prepare a room should the King ever decide to drop by, but it was unfortunately never used. A shame; it was decorated so nicely. They really wanted to be important, I guess. But it is one of the only castles still inhabited; in fact, the owners are of the same family that lived here when it was built. Many generations and many bitter inheritance battles, I would guess. It's quaint, but interesting nonetheless. We spent just long enough to explore the grounds and have a guided tour before moving on.
Le château de Blois, on the other hand, is what you might call a hodge-podge of architecture; what the tour guides call a fascinating look at all the architectural phases of the early 2nd millennium and what I would call a prime example of French Kings and their relatives following their whims. There are four architectural phases represented: gothic, flamboyant gothic, renaissance, and classical. The four buildings are stuck together in roughly a square. Apparently the dude who built the classical building -- I can't remember his name -- didn't like the renaissance building, because he chopped off one end, badly I might add, seeing as you can still see where he essentially sawed off the edge of the building. The renaissance building is squashed up against the gothic building, and only the flamboyant gothic one is normally built and placed. Despite all this, the château manages to be quite charming, although it remains one of the few to NOT have a garden.
The town of Blois is cute enough, a lot of narrow European streets and cobblestones, though clearly the main attraction is the castle -- which was, unlike, Cheverny, a lodging place for the royal court, and has the distinction of being the scene of a murder of an unscrupulous duke who was trying to overthrow the King. The castle rises impressively above les petites rues, the old stone covered in moss and ivy. It makes you feel very small, especially up in the castle, looking down at the streets far below, stairways connecting all of them because the terrain is so uneven.
When it comes to sheer castle-y glory, it's hard to beat Chenonceau. Having the distinction of being owned by both Catherine de Medicis (the queen when Henry II was king) and Diane de Potiers, the King's mistress. It was Diane's castle until the death of Henry, at which point Catherine took it back in return for a different castle. In other words -- there are two gardens and two particular bed chambers -- one for the Queen and one for the Mistress. Can you say awkward? At least they didn't live there at the same time.
Head on, Chenonceau is just normal, but turn the corner and walk a few paces, and the castle explodes into all of its specularness -- built actually on the rivers, grand wide arches over the water -- it is something to see, the sunlight glimmering on the water and the castle, white and perfect.
The furniture inside is extraordinarily well preserved and the walls are still covered in tapestries, all original. The chambers aren't connected and yet manage to seem more intimate than the others. The stairs are smack in the middle of the living quarters and yet it takes me at least twenty minutes to find them (though I didn't spend all of that time looking for them, you understand.) One of the coolest things is that the kitchens are open to visitors, down in the basement. Giant copper pots are strewn everywhere and there are at least five different chambers, a few chimneys you could roast a boar under, a large assortment of REALLY BIG KNIVES, and various other awesome things. I was imagining how it would smell down there when the King was having a dinner, how many cooks and rascal children hiding in the corners, hoping to snatch a scrap of the roast pig...
Although I think Chenonceau was my favorite as far as all over inside out (I apologize for my terrible grammar, I am in a linguistic soup), the grounds of Amboise and it's general picturesque setting is hard to beat. Amboise is sneaky; you can't see the castle at first. All you can see is a giant wall, dwarfing the tiny streets. We ate lunch in the shadow of the walls, a brisk and downright cold fall day. To get inside you walk up a long, fairly steep ramp. It's not hard to imagine the horses clopping up here.
I thought the walls were the castle, but no -- upon getting up beyond the walls, you see the château itself, but along with it a long expanse of gardens and lawns, a chapel, and a few watchtowers. All around the wonderful French roofs and the thousands of little chimneys reach for the skies and beyond the Seine is whitecapped from the wind. We look around the castle, but the main attraction is not inside (sparse and too modern for me). It's out here, in the gardens, on the turrets, the watchtowers, just to look look look, I could look until I go blind.
Pictures are here.
Enjoy!!
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