Opulence isn’t a term that I was familiar with before this trip. Actually, the first time I heard someone say it in class a few weeks back, I had to Google it, quite humiliatingly, to confirm what the word meant. My life hasn’t exactly been filled with opulence. I have been fortunate in my life to travel to some pretty impressive places within the states–New York City, Boston, Chicago, and, of course, Los Angeles–but the grandeur of these cities is nothing compared to that of Paris thus far.

French opulence hit me like a train. Metaphorically speaking, of course–I was not the child run over by the Marquis St. Evrémonde–but I have been astounded by how much old wealth I have seen on display here. We have been inside numerous churches and historic buildings, but two have stood out to me like none other.

First, the Sainte-Chapelle. Standing on the Île de la Cité, the Sainte-Chapelle is made of two levels: the lower and upper chapels. The lower chapel is a wonderful site with its gold pillars and beautiful, blue ceiling, but it is the upstairs level that really blew me away. The walls of the upper chapel are lined with gorgeously colored stained glass, several meters tall, covering the entire perimeter of the room. Words can’t begin to describe the magnificence of the space. I was taken aback, to say the least, and I spent close to thirty minutes just sitting in the chapel, jotting down notes on my phone so I didn’t forget what my thoughts were at that moment. And what I thought was this: No wonder there were so many revolutions. No wonder the French peasantry fought back. Look at what the aristocracy was hiding from them!

The Sainte-Chapelle’s upper level, depicted in the photographs here, was not always open to the public. As per its original intentions and for many years, only members of the royal party and their close associates were allowed up there.

Or maybe, overwhelmed with rage, they still would have. I don’t know. What I do know is that I sure would have reconsidered.

I had similar thoughts during our day at the Château de Versailles. The grounds were envisioned by King Louis XIV (that’s the fourteenth, for you plebeians), also known as the Sun King. The grounds of Versailles consist of a massive castle with around 2,300 rooms and nearly 2,000 acres of gardens surrounding it. In the palace, every new room I entered contained perfectly curated matching furniture, or vaulted ceilings with magnificent murals, or statues and painting and mirrors and chandeliers, or sometimes all of these things all in one. And, outside, the gardens were expansive. Acres of pristinely organized bushes, trees, flowers, fountains. They were my favorite part–and would have made for the greatest game of hide and seek of all time.

A lot of us kept talking about what it would have been like to be a part of the storming of Versailles. To come upon this palace as an 18th century peasant, where we were struggling for food and water every day, and see this spectacular mansion and acres of perfectly trimmed gardens. We would’ve been pretty pissed, too. Or maybe, we would have been like the mender of roads from A Tale of Two Cities, in awe of the beauty and proclaiming our allegiance to the King and Queen. (Probably not, at least in our case, but it is certainly worth considering.)

But throughout it all, I couldn’t help but wonder… What was the point of such luxury? A mantra kept repeating in my head on a loop: It’s too much. It’s so extravagant. Why? Who needs all of this? It’s so much. It’s too much. It’s so–You get the point. I was bewildered by the opulence.

Nowadays, I feel as if we don’t see as many concrete displays of wealth such as these. Sure, the rich still have their mansions and properties, but it is nothing to the extent of Versailles or Sainte-Chapelle. Instead, I find that we see wealth and opulence displayed in other ways. Submarine trips to see the Titanic, for example. Or the mere idea of space tourism, the monetization of the universe and another opportunity for the wealthy to colonize more foreign lands. Even in my closer circles, the individuals around me at school and work, the ways in which wealth is displayed is not that of impressive houses, but rather impressive experiences. Numerous vacations around the world, be it ski trips or sightseeing or beach destinations. Instagrams flooded with pictures from their travels abroad, from their vacation homes or road trips or Spring Break trips to Cabo complete with a caption mentioning sunsets, tequila, and/or a singular word in Spanish meant to show your appreciation for the culture. My point being: experiential wealth.

I have begrudged the displays of wealth that I have seen on social media. Now, I am certainly one of the lucky ones to be on a trip like this. My Instagram now also has photographs of London and Paris, and, when posting them, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction knowing that, for the first time, I had partaken in something that I had always wanted to do. No, not to visit these places, but to post about them on social media. It almost felt like a rite of passage, to brag about my experience, about how fortunate I must be to get to have these adventures. Displaying my wealth in such a grand sense. Showing off the places I have been, the sights I have seen. Much like building gorgeous churches filled with stained glass, or acres and acres of gardens and palaces to show off one’s wealth, because you simply can, because why not?