Heaven exists, and it is a place called Versailles.
Have you ever seen a photo of something and thought “that hardly seems real it’s so wonderful”? For some, it’s Channing Tatum, but for me, it’s the Palace of Versailles.
The history books would tell you that Versailles was a huge power trip, built for control of the nobility, and a huge middle finger to all the starving people of France at the time, and while I suppose that could be true, it’s also completely glorious.
The thought, time, and craftsmanship that went into that place is without fathom, and it seems somewhat unfair that I can’t move in. I know, I know, it’s a lot of room for Joel, the puppies and I, but I feel sure we could make it work. After all, Joel is very handy with a caulking gun, and I’m not too shabby at gold leafing either.
The only criticism I could have is with the sheer number of stupid people descending upon it every hour of the day. The pushy, loud, uncivilised, rabble would make dear Marie Antoinette pick up her head and find somewhere classier to live. A place so beautiful should be enjoyed, quietly, perhaps with some beautiful music, but certainly not in the way we saw it.
It took more than a few calming deep breaths to get through my dream house, and simply because I could barely hear myself think over the din of idiocy.
Did I mention we had to line up for almost 2 hours to get in?
It will always stay in my mind as that perfect place to dream of, but for some reason I won’t be able to shake image of the dude I saw who opted to, instead of holding the audio guide to his ear, used the attached lanyard to tie it to his head so he could hear the information hands free. Yikes.