Morning at Versailles

I've never been a princess fan, since stories about princesses tend to require princes. "She's waiting for what? A man?!?" When you grow up with four brothers, that doesn't have much appeal. Not that those four men aren't regular gems and all, and best of luck to the women who got them, but nabbing another one was never the sort of job I wanted to apply for. My idea of a fairy tale was "The Little Match Girl," where a scrappy urchin celebrates the New Year by freezing to death on the streets, which I guess is a cautionary tale more than anything. Still, she was doing her damnedest to sell those matches, and that made her a girl I could root for. 

So palaces aren't really my scene. On some fundamental level I don't understand the appeal. So much stuff! So much crap! So much fussy gilded nonsense! About the actual château part of the Château de Versailles, I would sum up my impression like this: a bunch of fat babies lying around looking at themselves in mirrors.

Just walking inside practically gave me the hives, and I could only circulate for about five minutes before I was forced to flee to the park.

But what a park! It led me straight into the woods, which were lovely, dark, and deep, and onto the paths that were filled with nobody. I took one path and it led to another path and suddenly I was a million miles away in the middle of nowhere, looking up and up and up into these great big tall stretching trees and I swear, I felt just like a princess. Er, little match girl.