Climbing another flight of stairs, I stepped from the metro and onto the surface. Across the street from me stood the largest museum in the world. I crossed and passed through the building’s covered archway. Stepping out the other side, I entered the Louvre’s central courtyard, with its famous array of glass pyramids.

I picked up a map from an information desk, then made my way past collections of African arts, Greek and Roman sculptures, and finally towards the paintings, pausing occasionally along the way to read a placard or stare at the art. Photographs of painting were prohibited for the usual reasons but, in cases such as the Mona Lisa, it wouldn’t have made much difference. The large crowd that gathered around such a small painting would’ve made it impossible to get a good photo. Other, more grand paintings like The Last Supper, drew smaller crowds. 

I could’ve spent longer in the museum, but with more of the city to see, I left and began a walk along the Seine. I followed the river’sLeft Bank towards Notre-Dame, passing the small street vendors that had set up stands along the way. I crossed a bridge onto the cathedral’s island, later learning that the bridge was one of the oldest in the city. 

I soon stood in front of the impressive building, staring up at the two large bell towers that served as home to a fictional hunchback. I walked inside and, faced with the cathedral’s grandeur, I could only imagine how people in the 14^th century would’ve felt by it, assuming only that compared to their hovels, Notre-Dame was proof of God. Exploring in my self-guided tour, I noted the similarities with the cathedrals of Austria and Prague, specifically how the floor plan of each was that of a cross.

Back in the metro, I changed trains a handful of times, eventually arriving in the town of Versailles. Not seeing any directions, I took a guess where to go, and soon saw the black and gold gates of the palace. 

Having spent a good amount of my adolescence in North Carolina, I had grown up with the Biltmore Estate as an example of extreme wealth. The palace of Versailles, however, made it look like a small summer cottage. Most halls were filled with marble busts of various French royalty, and nearly every ceiling and room were covered in paintings. One hall, lined with gigantic paintings depicting every major French victory since the MiddleAges, even included featuring a famous American general-turned-President. The placard named it The Battle of Yorktown.

I went to tour through the gardens, and although the rain made them pointless, I was disappointed that none of the fountains were on. It seemed to me that a large amount of the palace was closed for one reason or another, including the central courtyard and Hall of Mirrors.