The idea was to line them all up in a row, get a slight angle, and snap the photo. In order to do this, of course, I needed to get on one side of the line of spectacles. Figuring the obelisk would fit in best if it was the last in line, I began walking toward the green dome.

Having set out on this path, I quickly realized how solid green hedges could play tricks on the eye in regard to distance. The walk to this fountain was significantly further than I had anticipated, and before I reached it I came to a crossroad of paths that, for the first time, opened vision up to my right. This allowed me to see a grand structure that, for my money, looked like a palace. It wasn’t the San Soucci palace, certainly, but it looked posh enough to be a palace of some sort.

I stared for a while, and I would have went to see it right away, but I refused to let even a palace distract me from my goals in photography. So I set out again for the fountain, resolving to return and investigate this place at a later time. When I reached the fountain, however, I found that it too opened into a crossroad. To the right was yet another grand structure; this one looked to be both a large building and a quaint-looking windmill!

At this point, I started pondering the exact meaning of the phrase “palace garden”. Naturally I has assumed that it meant ‘garden of the palace’ but I was beginning to wonder if the meaning might be closer to ‘garden of palaces’. I had only been down the path to one side of the Sans Soucci Palace, I could only imagine what was on the other side! Even as I stood at this fountain, a good distance from the palace, I still could not really see the huge green-domed structure at the end of the path. The path’s very narrowness (it really wasn’t all that narrow) effectively obscured the view, but the one thing that I could see was that it was still a good distance off.

I am a stubborn man, however, and if I wasn’t going to be distracted by one surprise palace, I certainly would not let some windmill distract me from my goal.

The fountain actually opened up to something larger than just a cross roads. It was actually a small garden in and of itself, with the shrubbery circling the fountain from a few yards back, and this fountain as well was encircled by sculptures.

After a good look around, I nicknamed this place “the rape garden” as several of these statues seemed to depict some very questionable situations. There were three statues featuring a naked man restraining a very unhappy looking woman. I felt the story mostly writes itself. A fourth statue depicted what might have been a consenting woman with a very rough man, but I wouldn’t bet money that this is the interpretation the sculptor intended.

Why would a king pay a small fortune to have his very own rape garden? I guess the better question is ‘why not’?

I took my picture, though the sizable distance between the objects made the picture as a whole turn out less impressive than I would have hoped. I considered exploring the palace to my right, but like a dog who always wants to be on the other side of the door, the amazing spectacles I must surely have missed were nagging at my brain. So rather than explore the grandeur in front of me, I reversed the direction of my expedition to find out what lay behind me.

I quickly discovered that the path going out left from the San Souci palace bore some significant differences from its counterpart. I found no castles on this side, but what I did find was an assortment of eccentric palace gardens, and large caves skillfully cultivated from the directed growth of trees and shrubbery. The tunnel, in particular, was most impressive. However, nothing rivaled the palace-like buildings I’d seen, so I determined to go back and explore the ornate buildings I’d left behind me.

Oddly enough, though I was headed to where I’d been, I found a different path to take me back in that direction. So far as I could tell, this second path ran parallel to the first, but I liked this second path better, for it was both scenic and less crowded with people. I’ve always enjoyed the path less traveled. This one ran alongside a trickling stream. Every now and then, I’d run into a few pretty statues. Once and a while I’d find a rape statue, seemingly random in placement.

A good deal off I thought I could see a third path running parallel to my own, but I couldn’t be certain it was even part of this ornate palace garden. Then, after I had gone quite a ways, this path opened up wide in front of me, to a building much smaller than a palace, but so highly decorated as to border on gaudy. Like a young child, I immediately forgot all thoughts of visiting the palaces I’d seen before, and raced ahead to see the one now in front of me.

Have I neglected to mention that a light rain had been dampening my spirits throughout the day? It had been. The rain really seemed determined to plague me in Germany. I suspect I have also neglected to mention the backpack I kept with my. Naturally, when I stuffed my things in this pack, I did so with an aim to keep my valuables unavailable to those in my hostel that might ‘appreciate’ them while I was gone. So I had my plane ticket, passport, the emergency cash I felt a tourist ought to have just-in-case. Oh, and a digital camera and my obscenely expensive Robin Hobb novel were there too, and as a result my pack was both quite heavy and important. Also definitely not water-resistant.

What were you thinking, past Allan? Screw you.

My solution to this issue was to put the backpack on before my raincoat, and keep the backpack under it. Things turned out almost painfully tight, and it looked like I had a pregnant woman riding on my back, but my things did, in fact, stay dry, even if I cannot say the same for myself. But I have wandered off topic.
As I said, I happily rushed toward this small but highly decorated house. It was further away than I might make it sound – the path was fairly straight and very long, so the first I saw of the house it was still a good bit away. Eventually though, I passed the rape garden and approached the house. To both sides of the house steps were life-size statues of gentlemen and gentlewomen, leisurely enjoying loitering around the stairs. For color, the statues were painted entirely in gold with no details to their features.