Fon-tan-blow

The town of Fontainebleau (pronounced fon-tan-blow) is just a short train ride from downtown Paris.  It's a hot spot for mountain biking, rock climbing, and camping, but I went to see the famous palace.  When I arrived, the sun was shining, the town was buzzing, and I was hungry.  I wandered around the cobblestone streets, weaving through outdoor cafes, to find a good place to eat.  The Indian and Chinese places seemed a little uninspired.  The pizza was tempting, but just wasn't calling my name.  So I followed my nose and wound up on the sunny patio of Bistro Sud.  I ordered a margarita to drink, tuna tartar to eat, and sat back to enjoy a long lunch.  Despite being basically a pile of raw, diced tuna with fennel seeds, the food was excellent.  And the margarita was strong!  As you can see from the photo, instead of serving it with a salt rim, the gave you a little plate of olives to munch on. Was it the best restaurant in Fontainebleau?  Maybe not, but it didn't matter.  I was happy and halfway drunk as I made my way to the palace.

The first thing you notice about the palace is how un-crowded it is compared to Versailles.  After not waiting in line to get your ticket, the tour begins with a gallery of clothes and items from the last 500 years of kings and Napoleons, including these coats:

Just kidding!  Those are Michael Jackson's!  But the set up did remind me of the gallery of stage outfits at the Rock Hall.

I then made my way through a number of halls and rooms.  I found the nurseries interesting, with their really uncomfortable and unsafe looking cribs.

Like Versailles, the palace is adorned with paintings, sculptures, and architectural details, often described as being from the first or second School of Fontainebleau of the late Renaissance.  The Italian artists who worked here were responsible for bringing Mannerism to France.  A lot of their work was based on the mythology of Diana, the goddess of the hunt.  Not surprisingly, the monarchs loved to hunt here.  Notice the woman in the following fresco, with her strange little feet and head, big hairy thighs, weirdly muscular abs, and gross dogs.

We saw these winged lions everywhere in Venice as they were the symbol of St. Mark.  Here, they just hold up this heavy marble table.  I wonder if they were here represent Italy or St. Mark.  Or maybe they're just mythological.  But what are they?  Not exactly sphinxes or griffins.  Anybody have an idea?

Napoleon preferred Fontainbleau to Versailles, so he decided to make one of the former king's bedrooms into his throne room.  This is the only one in France still in its original state.

After leaving the palace, I took a long walk back to the train station.  Along the way, I noticed some really nice cars, including this McLaren.  I think these things are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

The flowers are really getting pretty now in France.  I hope everyone's enjoying the spring back home.  Until next time, shadow wave goodbye!