Blog fatigue; it happens to the best of us, and normally when you reach day five of of any given blogging project.
I’m not going to lie to you. Today is actually day eight of my Parisian adventure, but it just so happens that I’m a lazy sod who’s exhausted, behind on paid work and all outta enthusiasm. So I’m still stuck writing in day five.
In an effort to rekindle my burning flame of journalistic endeavour, I’ve opted to bunch days five and six together, like happy friends who don’t want to be parted. That and I don’t have an awful lot interesting to say about day five.
I’d also like to immediately point out that this doesn’t mean day five was a pile of poo – on the contrary we received a fascinating talk from Stefan Goebel on the significance of Versailles before travelling to the palace about half an hour outside Paris.
However, as a historical lecture on the importance of the palace, I don’t think there’s anything intellectually stimulating I could add, save giving you a run down of exactly the facts I learnt, which would be pretty dull for y’all over there. Anyway, that’s what Google’s for kids.
It was undeniably interesting to look at history through paintings though, namely those of Anton von Werner, who did a shedload of paintings of the proclamation of the German Empire, each with a slightly different emphasis than the others depending on the social context at the time.
It was like an academic version of spot the difference, with a meaningful message of “perceptions of history can changes bucket load depending on the context you’re living in at the time and what you’re trying to achieve with your work”. It sounds obvious, but it’s a slightly scary thought.
Also, TOURISTS RUIN THINGS. LIKE EXPERIENCES.
The Palace at Versailles is undeniably an incredibly ornate building with a huge history and a lot to take it, but the sheer number of visitors is probably the only thing that’s going to stick in my memory for any length of time.
The phrase cattle farming comes to mind. And not in a good way, just in case my imagery is ambiguous.
When you can’t move for neither love nor money, or even a rich tea biscuit and a cup of rosy lee, a building really does lose its sense of identity. You can’t get a feel for it historically or architecturally. Which is a massive shame. And makes me really, really sad.
I get that I’m a tourist coming to see this stuff too, which makes me sound like I’m mega hating on myself, but rather I’m mega hating on the cattle herders, so to speak.
I can’t help but think everyone in the palace today would have had a much richer and rewarding experience if they had staggered entry to allow for breathing room.
Sure, you’d have to wait longer in line or maybe even book in advance, but surely that’s better than battling the overriding feeling you’re going to drown in a sea of sticky bodies every second of your existence. Which, as I mentioned, is pretty sad when you’re in one of history’s most important building’s ever.
To make up for this wave of sadness I decided to try some new cultural experiences and got a Japanese takeaway. In France. Rad man.
Actually, screw this. I’ve totally said some cool, interesting and funny things in this blog and 600 words is totally enough to justify a post of its own. Show’s over folks.