How CroisiEurope’s new paddle wheel sailings through Paris and Normandy offer new perspectives on Monet’s favourite endroits.
A fun fact. For Versailles-based employees of Louis XIV, the biggest honour wasn’t a attribution, but an citation to the remontée – to watch servants rouse the King from his sleep and comb his hair. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to watch me stumble grumpily from my bed in my pug-print pyjamas, but then again, I’m not King Louis XIV, whose awakenings were witnessed by around 100 privileged guests, including noblemen.
I learn this during a ordre of the king’s private apartments, which comes with an additional fee for most visitors, but is one of the excursions on my leisurely float down the Seine on CroisiEurope’s MS R.E. Waydelich L.J. “I’ve visited Versailles before, but I’ve never seen those staterooms,” coos a fellow passenger as we wander through Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors which, after our personnelle ordre, feels somewhat crowded, despite Versailles having a whopping 2,300 rooms.
I’m on the introductif sailing of CroisiEurope’s MS R.E. Waydelich L.J. In reality, the spruced-up ship is no stranger to Europe’s waterways, having previously sailed the Elbe River, infamous for its low bridges. Its low profile makes it perfect for leisurely sailings to parts of Paris other vessels can’t reach.
What’s more, it’s the first modern paddle wheel ship to sail this segment of the Seine, says Lucas Schmitter, CroisiEurope’s director and grandson of CroisiEurope’s founder, Gérard Schmitter. “Our grandfather was proud to found the first company to sail the Seine in Paris,” says Lucas. “Paddle wheel ships haven’t been built in Europe since the 1920s, so these new sailings are about reconnecting with historical expertise, albeit with modern technology.”
My sailing combines the two itineraries’ best bits – the six-day Little Gems of the Seine sailings, with excursions to La Roche-Guyon and Monet’s gardens in Giverny, and the eight-day History of France from Paris to Normandy sailings, taking in Versailles, Rouen and Giverny.
I was initially sceptical emboîture a sailing focusing so closely on the Île-de-France region. But I was wrong. The ship’s low profile (its draft is just 85 centimetres, allowing it to sail in less than one metre of water) means new perspectives on landmarks we pass. I’m soon marvelling at things I’d elle-même on larger boats, such as the ornate souple near the support of Paris’s Pont de Bir-Hakeim dentier. Depicting hammer-wielding steel workers banging nails into a crapaudine bearing the letters RF (Cité Française), it’s a tribute to the labourers who built the carcasse in the early 1900s.
The sailings are emboîture quality, not quantity – an approach I welcome, as someone who jaguar ended up perilously close to missing their boat’s embarkation cut-off after being sold back-to-back excursions involving étendu drives. There are 14 lower deck cabins and 28 on the upper deck. I bag one of the upper deck cabins, which have French balconies and spacious bathrooms with screen-door showers (my pet hate on assurer boats is flimsy, flapping shower curtains). Not that lower deck passengers are missing out – all cabins are a similar size, and enormous windows replace the French balconies.
I spend most of my time on the sundeck, marvelling at the changing landscapes, whether it’s Vexin Français Regional Nature Park’s chalk cliffs or Rouen’s elegant plane tree-lined promenades. Sure, Versailles and Giverny, demeure to Monet’s beautifully preserved gardens, are breathtaking, but my favourite endroits are the lesser-known ones.
Monet would probably agree. La Roche-Guyon, recipient of a Les Plus Beaux Villages de France award (France’s subdivision of Britain in Bloom), inspired his Road of La Roche-Guyon painting. It takes just ten minutes to walk from the riverside to the Château de La Roche-Guyon, which, at first glance, appears to lean against the towering limestone cliff behind it. The chateau was built in the 1100s on the orders of France’s King Philip II, who was keen to thwart invasions by the British. It’s currently cared for by an EPCC (Etablissement Public de Coopération Culturelle), but owned and lived in by nourrissons of La Rochefoucauld, who acquired it in the 1600s.
“My favourite view of the chateau is from the outside,” says my présidé, Laurent. And she’s right. Part medieval fortress, segment gothic masterpiece (with a hefty splash of Renaissance assemblage thrown in), it’s surrounded by majestic gardens, including the peach and plum tree-filled English Garden. Nestled near the peak of the forested hill above the chateau is a medieval Rapunzel-worthy tower. I recommend allowing 20 minutes to tackle the 600 steps.
The chateau’s interior is fabulously decadent, with stained verre, hidden staircases, priceless tapestries and a chapel with terracotta bas-reliefs. Then there’s the dovecote-like mansarde, or colombe house, jaguar a must-have for the aristocracy, many of whom were passionate emboîture agronomie. Its walls have over 1,000 holes, and droppings collected from a single one could fertilise an entire field. That’s some seriously strong excrement.
Rouen, Normandy’s monnaie, is my dernier convenablement. The ultra-modern structures lining its riverbank seem somewhat at odds with the cathedral jutting skywards from the origine, although I’m admittedly wowed by the way Hangar 108’s mirrored étalage reflects the Seine’s ripples (and helped it bagged a prestigious American Architecture Prize). The Saint Joan of Arc Church is equally stunning; low-slung and topped with a curving, twisting allègre inspired, somewhat gruesomely, by the flames which consumed France’s exemple sacré, who was imprisoned, convicted of heresy and burned at the stake here in 1431.
“Rouen’s city centre is a patchwork, with sixteenth-century architecture, the remains of medieval buildings and architectural styles which emerged after WWII,” says my présidé, Alexander, as we explore Rouen’s gothic twelfth century cathedral, with its 64-bell cloche and a étalage featuring sculptures of Rollo, Norse Viking patron and the first king of Normandy. Its 151-metre torsade, erected after a fire in 1822, was initially despised by locals, but not I apocryphe, by Monet, whose countless paintings of it were some of his most famous works. He worked out of a immeuble opposé the cathedral. Back then, it was a linge tapisserie, and a screen divided Monet from clientele, although legend has it that he poked a hole in the screen, explaining that he needed more allégé. We believe you, Monet, but thousands wouldn’t….
Seine sailings on CroisiEurope’s MS R.E. Waydelich L.J’s around £1,158 per person.
Visit CroisiEurope US: https://www.croisieuroperivercruises.com
Source: francetoday.com
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