One of the goals of this blog was to keep track of all the places we’ve been. It can be a bit of a blur to try and remember each trip, especially when every couple of months we find ourselves galavanting around Europe like a couple of international jewel thieves evading Interpol.
But you know it’s really bad (or you’re just getting too damn old) when you forget to do the thing you’re supposed to do so you won’t forget the thing you did before you forget you ever did it. Or something.
Anyway, I realized the post before this was about Paris, including our unforgettable trip to Bruuuuuuuge, but that we left a couple of things out and I got so wrapped up in, um, being retired I guess, that I forgot to post them.
Like the Eiffel Tower here. I can’t figure out how my iPhone was able to see through my ‘shroom haze (to demonstrate my vast knowledge of hallucinogenics, I once called shrooms “stools,” to the great amusement of anyone within earshot), but obviously the Eiffel and I were tripping big time for a while. Fortunately, only good trips get blogged on Bald Sasquatch.
During our Parisian excursion, one of the places we drove to (apparently too quickly, I’ve now expanded my country speeding ticket collection to include Luxembourg, Spain, and France) was Fontainebleau, also known as “The Poor Man’s Versailles…” as long as your definition of “poor man” is “less rich than a couple of people in the world.”
The Palace of Fontainebleau served as a residence for a number of French monarchs, from Louis VII to Napoleon III to Fred KJSU (if they can use letters for numbers I can too!). As with Versailles, the palace is positively dripping with opulence. In fact, there was so much opulence-dripping we had to bring umbrellas, and while doing so I invented a new hands-free way to carry them around. ©2022 BaldSasquatch.com so you can’t steal the idea.
Carolyn, on the other hand, reacted like the mushroom tea just kicked in when the rain started pouring. After five years, I think she’s forgotten all about Oregon rain, so she was pretty amazed over the whole thing.
Fontainebleau translates to: “blue fountain.” (I bet you never could’ve figured that out… but it does mean every time you use the toilet in an airliner you’re pretty much doing the Fontainebleau. By the way, it’s good to announce in a loud voice that you’re “going to the Fontainebleau!” on a French airline so they’ll be impressed).
Fontainebleau is actually a welcome respite compared to Versailles, mostly because of the crowds, or lack thereof. Everyone goes to Versailles because it’s close to Paris, but apparently 55 kilometers (or 34 miles with the Caveman Measuring System) is too far to go to see even more, as the French say, of the “Three Big O’s:” opulent, ornate, and ostentatious. For some reason, the best words to describe these places all begin with an “O.” That’s why the royal seal has an opossum on it. Of course, the Brits decided to jab at the French by taking the “O” out of “possum.” But, did anyone ever pronounce the “O?” The Opossum/Possum saga has always baffled me. It is the same animal, right? No wonder they play dead all the time, we’ve confused the hell out of them.
Imagine driving to this home from a long day at work. I’d probably feel even more tired just realizing I was going to have to walk a half a mile to the bathroom. Keep in mind they hadn’t invented those speakers some American houses had, you know, the ones that no one ever used. I think the people who thought they were a good idea completely forgot that yelling had already been invented. Especially in big families.
If you want to know how effective propaganda can be, Napoleon (I get confused at all the Napoleons, III, IV, whatever. When I think of Napoleon I think of that short guy who conquered lots of places and was always itching his belly button when his portrait was painted), was actually of average height for the time. The Brits threw shade at him just to make him seem less impressive. Of course the French threw shade right back by making sure everyone in the world thought that English cuisine sucked. Oh wait, is it still propaganda if it’s true? Anyway, you can see here that obviously Carolyn could have pounded the crap out of the little guy, but since the average height of most people was two stone and forty quid (I don’t know what those things mean, but I like to pretend to sound like I do), it’s obvious he would’ve had to tap out while she squeezed the life out of him with her thighs. Sadly, if she would’ve really been alive back then at her current height, they would’ve probably either jailed her for being too threatening or used her as a circus freak.
Napoleon the Belly Button Fondler actually sat upon this throne.
Sure, they didn’t have telephones back then, but they figured out plenty of other ways to keep abreast of developments around the country.
It’s kind of funny to think that one of the world’s most powerful men used this as a bathtub. Based on all the other opulence, I would’ve thought he would’ve had a tub the size of an olympic swimming pool. Did you know they used to allow commoners to drink Napoleon’s bath water in order to “give them the strength and wisdom of an emperor?” No? I didn’t either, I just made that up. I have, however, always wondered if a Pope’s excrement is considered holy shit. Holy shit! I can’t believe I wrote that.
The first Royal Decorator who suggested the idea of “white space” was immediately beheaded. The subsequent designers got the hint.
Here, a globe symbolizes what the earth would look like if it existed in a wooden stand in a big long room.
Like Adolph Hitler, Napoleon was a wanna-be artist. But while Hitler had some actual artistic talent (gawd why didn’t someone give him a job as an artist- the world would’ve been spared a lot of misery!), the only talent Napoleon had was threatening to behead anyone who didn’t think his drawings were awesome. “Ooh, Nappy, you captured the splashes so perfectly!” she says as she silently puzzles over why the man is peeing out of his feet.
It’s a little known fact that the only reason Napoleon ended up invading a couple of countries is because he took a wrong turn trying to find his bedroom.
I took a picture of these guys just in case they are famous, because they were being filmed while performing a rap song in front of the palace. So if they are famous and you know who they are, be sure to drop me a line so I can add to my strut a little at having been so close to fame. Ooh, I get all tingly at the hopeful prospect!
Here follows the rest of the pictures of Fontainebleau. I completely forgot which hilarious and/or witty comment I was going to make about each of them. But trust me, you’d be rolling right now if I wasn’t too old to remember, um, whatever thing I was supposed to remember just then. Time for a nap!
This is the actual town of Fontainebleau. Nothing particularly special, the palace is the only reason you’d really want to go there I think. Although we had a delightful lunch.
Oh crap- I almost forgot. That was going to be the end of this post, but I just saw my folder full of shots of the Louvre. I’ll make it quick, because I know you probably have a text to see on your phone or something to itch soon.
A very nice benefit of being at a place the second time is that you can just take this shot of the Mona Lisa from the entrance to the room and call it good. Either that, or I thought that bald guy was incredibly interesting and Mona was just photobombing me.
Napoleon also lived at the Louvre (clocking in at a paltry 652,300 square feet or 60,600 square meters) as well as Fontainebleau, because of course one ostentatious, opulent, ornate residence is hardly enough to befit an emperor. In fact, he only used this room to change his socks.
I took these shots because I had something hilarious to say about ostriches, but damned if I can remember what it was. So do me a favor and snort a bit for me while you look at these so we can pretend to wring a little humor out of it all anyway. Maybe it was ostrichtatious? Damn. I give up.
OK, I can’t top that ostrich joke (if I ever think of it), so here are the rest of the Louvre shots:
Last but not least, this is an actual picture of my eye. A store in the Louvre markets this, selling you both an electronic and printed image of your eye. But the actual truth is, now that you’ve looked into the all-seeing eye, I’ll always be able to watch you. In fact, there’s a little broccoli in your teeth. I’m glad to see you’re eating well, but you might want to take care of that before you get botulism. Or rabies.