Despite my usual uncouth way of talking, my gross misspelling of words and general lack of knowledge regarding higher intellectual pursuits, I have experienced a little bit of culture. I know, it's hard to believe, but true. Once such run in with culture and class was a trip I took while my ex and I were living in Germany.
We were fortunate enough to take an inexpensive bus trip to Paris, France. I scheduled the trip and it just so happened that my boss at the time was born in France, so of course she wanted to go. She and her husband signed up and they became our instant traveling companions. Notice, I said my boss was born in France, but she was American... Not the type of adventurous American that is open minded to other cultures, but the spoiled type of American; the one that complains about everything while traveling, the quintessential, "ugly American." So while I wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower, Arc D' Triumph, Moulin Rouge and other sites one sees while visiting Paris; she and her husband were only interested in getting a t-shirt that read Hard Rock Cafe Paris on it. Geez!
She complained about Versailles, she didn't want to go all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower, she complained about everything. The trip became Le trip from Le Hell. I finally gave her a piece of my mind in La Louvre, and she was offended of course and her and her hubby went one way and me and mine went the other. There, ah sweet release! The one thing that I wanted to see most was the Mona Lisa, I had wanted to see it since I was a little girl and now here I was in one of the most famous art museums in the world. I went over to where the masterpiece hung prestigiously on the wall, and there she was...surrounded by at least a hundred people from a tour group. I couldn't see her! So I began jumping up and down to catch glimpses of her. My ex saw me doing this and rolled his eyes. Then, out of the corner of my eye I could see him motioning for me to hurry. He said in a sort of hushed yell, "We've got to go, we're going to miss the bus!"
Merd! Merd! Merd! I had come all that way, endured my bosses incessant whining, and been so close and still didn't see Mona! It's a euphemism for my life. I have to jump up to see glimpses of greatness, and never really getting a full view before I'm reminded of my true station in life; then summoned to get back on the bus with the rest of the morons.
Ces't La Vive.
8 comments:
Aww, that was sad. I'm glad you finally gave that woman the boot though. Good for you. Too bad you missed such a moment that is hard to reproduce.
Ah well, maybe I'll meet a rich man who'll take me back to the Louvre. Yeah, and I'm liable to pull a diamond out of my butt too.
;)
I've seen the Mona Lisa. It doesn't look anything like it does in the photos, posters, boardgames, shotglasses and countless other products you've seen it plastered on. It looks like a bunch of people standing around gawking in front of a fuxxy, glass-covered painting. actually. In fact, the very commercialism of La Giaconda has indirectly detracted from the beauty of the painting.
People see the Mona Lisa so they can say they've seen it, but have no idea WHY they should see it. Like everything else in their lives, a moment of retrospection and appreciation is sacrificed to make a checkmark beside a list.
I blame Dan Brown.
"People see the Mona Lisa so they can say they've seen it, but have no idea WHY they should see it. Like everything else in their lives, a moment of retrospection and appreciation is sacrificed to make a checkmark beside a list."
Nah, not in my case. I just wanted to see it because of all the hype. And I have wanted to see it since I was a child. I wasn't ticking off some mental checklist of things to do before I die. And Dan Brown wasn't to blame in this case either, my trip was 10 years ago. Besides, Van Gogh is my favorite artist and I can tell you why.
Oh, I didn't mean you. I was referring to people who wear silver sneakers :)
If Van Gogh is your favourite, next time you're in Europe go to Amsterdam. There's a musueum dedicated to him there.
I prefer Van Eyck or Dali.
Drokka--When I was in Germany, I really wanted to go to Holland. My great grandparents came to the states from Holland. I would love to go to that museum.
Oh, and I like Dali too, his work reminds me of melted infinity, but somehow finite.
Hehe, I don't think that makes any sense...but you get me right?
heh. Yeah, I get what you mean.
It's like perpetual motion.
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