Here I am, over 16 months later, still struggling to finish writing about the last part of my summer of 2016 trip. But I’m determined to complete this series in the next couple of weeks (here’s hoping), so I can finally start writing about Czechia, Switzerland, the South of France, and Spain – all before my next trip, which will be to South Africa. Thank you for bearing with my procrastination, and huge thanks to the people who keep pushing me to write!
Excerpt from my travel journal, dated August 19th, 2016:
We started early. It was a very small group – just 3 of us. The other two guys were a London-based Aussie couple named Cameron and James. Our tour guide was named Walter, a Swede who grew up in Paris.
I had booked a day tour outside of Paris to visit 2 very different houses: Château de Versailles, the opulent Baroque palace and former seat of France’s ruling family until the French Revolution in the 18th century; and Giverny, Claude Monet’s beautiful garden home in Normandy where a significant Impressionist colony settled in the 19th century.
It was cold when we arrived at the shiny golden gates. Looking up at the recently restored remnants of the French monarchy filled me with a sad sort of awe. Once the home of the Sun King and his descendants, including the unfortunate Louis XVI, it is now but a fraction of the opulence that it had boasted in its heyday.
On the outside, it still felt grand and powerful. Intricate Baroque fountains and blooming gardens surround the palace, which is already a formidable edifice by itself.
But on the inside, amid the gilded walls, chandeliers and hundreds of camera-wielding tourists, the emptiness was palpable. I wondered what it would have been like, filled with the voices of the royal family, their obscenely extravagant furnishings, the scent of their sumptuous meals, as the French commoners starved just outside their walls. I imagined the anger of the people bubbling up, eventually combusting into violence.
“Aprés nous, le déluge.” After us, the flood. So said Louis XV.
A tale as old as time: power, greed, excess, abuse, insurgency, victory…until power rises up once more. How foolish man is, that he constantly believes himself capable of ruling even himself, how much more others?
I left Versailles with an uncomfortable weight in my heart as I thought of France’s history and the chilling state of the world as it is today, but comforted by the knowledge that my life is in the hands of a constant and unchanging God.
Ecclesiastes 1:9 says:
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
On the way to Giverny, our little group stopped for lunch in Normandy, at a quaint little mill house restaurant called Moulin de Fourges. I had my first taste of French apple pie (I still think my mom’s is better, but it was pretty good).
I had a nice chat with Cameron and James over our delicious food and wine, and we giggled at the small portions that we were served. After the meal, I went off on my own for a bit to explore the grounds. The quiet countryside was a welcome break from the city.
Walter called us back to the van after a while, and we drove to Giverny.
Claude Monet is my favourite of the Impressionists, so this was a dream of mine to visit his famous home which inspired many of his most beloved works of art.
Upon arrival, though, I was dismayed to find that 7 busloads of tourists had beaten us to the house and gardens. None of them seemed particularly interested in Monet but spent hours taking selfies, blocking paths, and yelling loudly at each other. I couldn’t even enjoy the view of the flowers for a minute without another tourist obscuring it for a couple of poses or (twenty).
I wandered around until I found a bit of solace under a willow tree by a stream. I leaned against a wooden post and looked up at the sunlight dotted in and out of the swaying leaves. I wondered how Monet would have captured that moment and I wished I was a better artist so I could have done the same.
I was grateful for that tiny moment of quiet. I feel like people don’t appreciate the value of solitude enough – those times when you are simply grateful for each breath, for the gift of a unique and fleeting memory that exists only in your mind and heart, and for the knowledge that you simply exist as a soul with purpose: to truly, infinitely live, love and be loved.
