(access and security are long gone, don't worry )
One can capitalise upon the human trait,where those unskilled at something lack the ability to objectively assess their level of skill at said something so tend to overestimate their ability for it. Naturally to any seccas reading this give yourselves a pat on the back, give your dog a bone to chew while you kick back and take a nap. Don't believe for a second what this site may suggest. It's all photoshop.
So while all and sundry went aptly about their job, content in the knowledge all was right with the world, qx, rocco, rex and I clambered skywards out of sight, out of mind and if I do say so myself, feeling pretty fucking good about ourselves. Were we too noobish to make that assessment reliably? It was too early to tell and drifting further from our minds, for we were on the lower roof of Paris' Panthéon.
The first stones were laid in 1758, which to gain proper perspective, was a dozen years before ol' mate Captain James Cook the pied piper of convicts led us evil-doers across the seas and founded a great land on beaches, bbqs and walkinshaw commodores. The Panth is an old impressive building used to store old important dead people. Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Émile Zola, Marie Curie and a bunch of other hardhitters who are evidently more famous than myself because many have their own wiki pages and are interred in a giant pimping building in the 5ème. If I devise a reliable method of self-interment I'll write a cURL script to posthumous update the wikipedia page to include moi. The interior is swathed in homogenous religious art, pay 8 eurobucks for the luxury of a daylight looksee if that's your thing. Ours however was further skyward.
Powered by hot ovalitine ((ovomaltine in france) do yourself a favour and make it with milk else it tastes undeniably of dirt) we ventured upwards, past the clock those guys repaired and right up into the little observation hall on top. As you're likely aware Paris is pretty well flat and the panth is on a small hill so we could see forever, surveying the skyline ticking off the same items from the ZOMGEPIC checklist the tourists do. However I take pride in our nocturnal forays because I firmly believe travel nurtures the spirit greater when one interacts with the places they visit. Hanging from, then pulling down upon one's head, a piece of 200+ year old limestone drainage pipe while desperately trying to untangle a rope is, if nothing else, interaction. That's a story for another time but one indicative of the way these things tend to occur.
pic: quantum-x
Emblazoned across le Panth's imposing facade is the phrase "AUX GRANDS HOMMES LA PATRIE RECONNAISSANTE" - "to the great men, [love and kisses] the grateful homeland", along with a series of carved statues. The most prominent of these is an enormous female statue right in the centre with a halo of stars and a wreath in each hand. It was love at first sight, I would have her. As I slid down the rope, dangling from a 9mm shoestring, face to enormous face with her it was pretty well obvious I'd not be satisfying her in any way, unless she might need to floss her teeth.
photo quantum-x
We'd had this idea we could leave a memento of our passing, a vaguely amusing easter egg clandestinely planted into every tourist photo of le panth on flickr. Having blown all our cash on rope and hardware there was nothing left to spend on the easter egg so an old Australian high school tie was sacrificed to the cause. Next time we'll scrounge an oro-stimulator. Going first quantum-x discovered not only was her neck melded into the backdrop, her face is as wide as your arm is long. Regardless the tie was affixed, photos were snapped (for the Alzheimers album and to taunt the "pics or it didn't happen" haters) and moments after hitting the ground a van of les flics hustled right on by, ignorant or indifferent to the 2 guys standing around in front of a national monument in harnesses with cameras... just another night in the capital. Good work lads, how right they were.
photo quantum-x
One can capitalise upon the human trait,where those unskilled at something lack the ability to objectively assess their level of skill at said something so tend to overestimate their ability for it. Naturally to any seccas reading this give yourselves a pat on the back, give your dog a bone to chew while you kick back and take a nap. Don't believe for a second what this site may suggest. It's all photoshop.
So while all and sundry went aptly about their job, content in the knowledge all was right with the world, qx, rocco, rex and I clambered skywards out of sight, out of mind and if I do say so myself, feeling pretty fucking good about ourselves. Were we too noobish to make that assessment reliably? It was too early to tell and drifting further from our minds, for we were on the lower roof of Paris' Panthéon.
The first stones were laid in 1758, which to gain proper perspective, was a dozen years before ol' mate Captain James Cook the pied piper of convicts led us evil-doers across the seas and founded a great land on beaches, bbqs and walkinshaw commodores. The Panth is an old impressive building used to store old important dead people. Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Émile Zola, Marie Curie and a bunch of other hardhitters who are evidently more famous than myself because many have their own wiki pages and are interred in a giant pimping building in the 5ème. If I devise a reliable method of self-interment I'll write a cURL script to posthumous update the wikipedia page to include moi. The interior is swathed in homogenous religious art, pay 8 eurobucks for the luxury of a daylight looksee if that's your thing. Ours however was further skyward.
Powered by hot ovalitine ((ovomaltine in france) do yourself a favour and make it with milk else it tastes undeniably of dirt) we ventured upwards, past the clock those guys repaired and right up into the little observation hall on top. As you're likely aware Paris is pretty well flat and the panth is on a small hill so we could see forever, surveying the skyline ticking off the same items from the ZOMGEPIC checklist the tourists do. However I take pride in our nocturnal forays because I firmly believe travel nurtures the spirit greater when one interacts with the places they visit. Hanging from, then pulling down upon one's head, a piece of 200+ year old limestone drainage pipe while desperately trying to untangle a rope is, if nothing else, interaction. That's a story for another time but one indicative of the way these things tend to occur.
pic: quantum-x
Emblazoned across le Panth's imposing facade is the phrase "AUX GRANDS HOMMES LA PATRIE RECONNAISSANTE" - "to the great men, [love and kisses] the grateful homeland", along with a series of carved statues. The most prominent of these is an enormous female statue right in the centre with a halo of stars and a wreath in each hand. It was love at first sight, I would have her. As I slid down the rope, dangling from a 9mm shoestring, face to enormous face with her it was pretty well obvious I'd not be satisfying her in any way, unless she might need to floss her teeth.
photo quantum-x
We'd had this idea we could leave a memento of our passing, a vaguely amusing easter egg clandestinely planted into every tourist photo of le panth on flickr. Having blown all our cash on rope and hardware there was nothing left to spend on the easter egg so an old Australian high school tie was sacrificed to the cause. Next time we'll scrounge an oro-stimulator. Going first quantum-x discovered not only was her neck melded into the backdrop, her face is as wide as your arm is long. Regardless the tie was affixed, photos were snapped (for the Alzheimers album and to taunt the "pics or it didn't happen" haters) and moments after hitting the ground a van of les flics hustled right on by, ignorant or indifferent to the 2 guys standing around in front of a national monument in harnesses with cameras... just another night in the capital. Good work lads, how right they were.
photo quantum-x
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I seriously hope this thread gets more attention than the fish thread.
