"There's a Place in France . . . . "

One of those well-known rhymes of children is the one that goes,

"There's a place in France
Where  the women wear no pants . . . ."

or

"There's a place in France
Where the naked ladies dance . . . . "

With various alternative rhymes, sung to the tune of "The Streets of Cairo."  Which, being a very literal-minded child, I assumed to refer to a particular locality in France.  Now, using my well-honed powers of deduction, I assumed that it would not be in one of the large urban areas; otherwise, there would be television coverage of that fact.  Perhaps in France Profounde, the boondocks.

I had occasion to go to France when a teen and later; but gave it no further thought.  Then the truth came down on me one day in a flash of insight.

It happened that I was on the way to visit Bretagne*, and had dire need to use the facilities.  Now that's a problem with tourists: needs come upon them.  Finally, I found the ladies' room, and it was very, very basic.  And dirty.  Not to mention smelly!  Ugh!  It was a squatty!!!!  It must have been the last one in Europe!

The task: how to use this unfamiliar apparatus without getting my dress and undies wet?  Suddenly, the French concept of savior faire came to mind, and I was deficient!  Well, I managed to hike my my skirt as high as I could, and squatted in some unpracticed yoga position.  And held the additional garment.

Whew!  I managed to keep all body parts and clothing without touching the floor!

Now, the ladies' room was on a scale of dirty that would have outdone any American gas station's facilities, so I had to make some compromises.

And that is why I visited Mt. St. Michel while going commando, with my panties in my purse!  And I came to understand that I had actually discovered that fabled place in France, and why it is that way!

For the record, it is near Rennes.

*A perfectly amazing place to visit, with its landscape and seascape.