Castles of France

The Loire Valley Castles: Renaissance dreams... and more

So, the castles of the Loire... where do I even start? You see pictures all the time — postcard perfect, elegant, straight out of a fairy tale. But seeing them up close? That’s something else entirely.

I still remember the first time I visited Chenonceau — the one that kind of floats over the river. You walk through the rooms, try to picture the parties, the secrets, the drama... and all of it wrapped in such refined beauty. Maybe a little over the top, sure, but hey — if you’re gonna dream, go all in, right?

Then there’s Chambord. Oh boy. It’s insane. Like, "let’s impress everyone ever" kind of insane. François I clearly had something to prove. That double-helix staircase? Genius and... slightly confusing, not gonna lie. I got lost at least twice.

Whether it’s Amboise, Azay-le-Rideau, or some of the lesser-known gems, there’s always that something — a detail, a garden, a story that pulls you in. You go for the architecture, but honestly, you stay for how it makes you feel.

Versailles and Its Gardens

Versailles... well, it’s a lot. Just the name already sounds majestic. I went midweek, off-season — best decision ever.

The palace itself is overwhelming. Gold, mirrors, ceilings with gods and heroes I vaguely remembered from school. It’s a bit much, but that’s kind of the point. The gardens though? That’s where it hit me. Perfectly trimmed, insanely symmetrical — it’s mesmerizing in its own way.

I wandered around, half expecting a court musician to pop out from behind a hedge. Didn’t happen. But the calm, the layout, the fountains... it gets to you. Even with noisy school kids running around — you forget them eventually. You’re in another world.

Mont-Saint-Michel – Where sea, sky, and time blur

Okay, I know — technically not a castle. But how could I not include it? Mont-Saint-Michel is like stepping into a storybook. It rises out of the sea like it doesn’t care what century it is.

The first time I went, it rained. Like, seriously. I was soaked. But walking those winding alleys, climbing those old stone steps with the tide crashing around the island… I felt small, in the best way possible.

And when you reach the top? The view — and I’m not exaggerating — will stay with you forever. The wind in your face, that strange silence above the crowds… It’s not the Loire, it’s not Versailles, but it’s got that extra something. Soul, maybe?