Dan’s friend once belovedly called him the “Cultural Slave Driver”. And so while we were planning for the trip, we decided that we would go to the 3 castles nearest to Paris (and by “near”, it’s like an hour train each way. and he insisted “there are 10-13 of them. these are very close).
So I put away my thoughts about cute berets and fancy cafes and hot French men, and hop on a train to see kings and queens and their lavish life from centuries past. To be fair, these castles are stunning. They are large labyrinths with thousands of rooms with decorative patterns and objects. Walls and ceilings are filled with paintings and sculptures. Everywhere you look, it’s a piece of history and a moment in time of these people, these “leaders” of the past.
The garden was stunning. It’s miles and miles of well-groomed trees and plants, flower beds and fountains, more sculptures, and even more stunning architectural designs. Everywhere you look, there’s a mythology, a story, an extravaganza celebration of culture and arts. Yet, I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling, all that is encompassed in 1 word “guillotine”. I know I’m strange. Also, as a person who grew up in communism and has been personally impacted by it, I’m weirdly aligned with the peasants and the poor instead of the kings and queens. These castles are not even regular residents. They are hunting estates. They are hideaway places so these so-called leaders can hide away from the people they “govern”. Which is both despicable and cowardly. And as I see one more intricate clock and one more fancy gold carved vase, I keep having this nagging feeling that “fate” and “destiny” and even “God-given right to govern” are just excuses from the rich and the powerful to rule over the less fortunate. This is just the French people. Don’t get me started on the colonialism bs.
Of course, Dan made a very compelling point that everywhere we go, we see castles and monuments from the past. Gold temples in Thailand. Old kings residence in Vietnam. I went to a couple of medieval castles in the UK. It’s fun and great to see castles from France, from a time of the Resonance, the Revolution, and all that came with that history. But about the 6th-hour mark and the third castle, that same nagging feeling (coupled with the hangry-ness of not having decent food in a Disneyland-like touristy place) has turned me into a bitchy monster. (And I do feel bad about it)
And of course, on the night of day 3 of our trip, news of the British queen being very ill broke. (Spoilers alert, she passed away a day later, which caused some “interesting” ripple effect to our trip – more on that later). Fun fact: The Queen is STILL the head of state of Canada (and now, yes, we are stuck with King Charles). And of course, Lord Kenny, the Premier of Alberta, is a known monarchist. I know some people in Canada care about the queen and they were deeply affected by that, so not to be too insensitive, but I care very little about the death of the Queen. I’m sorry. I mean, she’s 96 years old. She has served her whole life. People die (Old people die even more often). She lived a full life. She had all these beautiful homes and estates and castles. And it’s ok to grieve and mourn her. Just don’t expect the rest of us to do the same (The funny thing, I realize, about Westerners is that they want everyone to do the thing they think is important. You know. Be a Christian. Buy more guns. Don’t say gay.) I mean as a person from a colonized country, as a person who has a job and pays taxes, it is hard for me to feel anything for the British monarch.
The first few days of the trips were … interesting. I did really enjoy it, to be fair (given the overall negative tone of this note). I’m reminded that I married a nerdy history buff who needs very little food or water and walk around for hours staring at old buildings and reciting all these myths from ancient Greece or Rome. I’m reminded that I am stubborn af, and only one of us can read maps (spoilers alert, not Dan) but the other one is the one with the working phone. I’m reminded that we are two very very different people who somehow found each other, somehow got stuck with each other in this vast universe where one can be born kings and queens, or peasants, and all of that can go away and crumbles like bricks from the past. Dan is reminded that I am loud and embarrassing, and I like to say the word “guillotine” out loud in French public places (maybe I should try “Eat the rich”, but I prefer low-fat diets).
Yes. Our honeymoon is like our relationship. Confusing as hell to outsiders. Romantic af in the weirdest way to us.
Pace Fine Arts 