Tourism of the Absurd

[violaconspiracy]

Imagine that you have just stepped out of a train in a foreign city. Before you have even left the station, you receive a phone call informing you that there will be a vehicle waiting for you outside. The driver of the vehicle, which is a rather nondescript white van, silently drives you into the countryside, through some seedy farming communities, past several garishly painted motels, and up a winding mountain road. At the top of the road, your transport deposits you at a slightly worn-down, but still operational carnival. A mostly empty carousel turns and turns nearby while a few people mill about eating some identifiable food on sticks. The main attraction at this carnival, however, is not the rides or the mysterious skewered edible items. Near where the van dropped you and past a ramshackle ticketing booth, the mouth of a cave yawns in the side of the mountain. As you walk into the gaping maw of the earth, the first sight that greets you is a strange and confusing mural painted brightly on the sides of the cave's entryway walls. Dinosaurs, kangaroos, slightly racist depictions of Native Americans, and a single, huge human skull stare down at you from the walls. Beyond this confusion of color lies the cave itself, a combination of natural caverns and mine shafts, all lit with green and pink floodlights. The cave contains a perplexing assortment of oddities. One chamber is filled with water and a large diesel-powered raft roars around it carrying several sight-seers. Beyond it, a hallway is lined with glass cases containing Egyptian artifacts of dubious authenticity. In yet another room there is a large stage upon which a single boy performs acrobatic feats involving a balancing board and several baskets on his head. Near the stage there is a pool surrounding a replica model of a certain cluster of islands, and an adjoining chamber illustrates the evolution of humans through the medium of bad sculpture. At last, you reach the final hall of the cave, which is appropriately named the 'Amethyst Hall.' A large sign points out a depression in the side of the cave wall which was an enormous amethyst geode but which has been almost completely mined; only a few sharp spikes of the gem poke out from the walls of the depression. More glass display cases hold enormous clusters of the violet crystals which were mined from the geode. Accompanying the mineral displays are two dioramas containing statues of miners going about their work. The statues were badly-made in the first place, and now they are in a state of disrepair that makes them look suspiciously like zombies. They have sunken cheeks and discolored, cracking skin. A few are missing limbs or digits. Worst of all, their bulging, dead eyes stare at you from under the sickly green half-light. You decide that it's about time for some sunlight, and you exit the cave. The carousel still spins lazily in the hazy afternoon, and you can't help but stare at it and wonder if any minute now you are going to hear the familiar sound of mechanical bells and wake up lying in your bed with your left arm half-numb and your brain fuzzy with the momentary bewilderment of waking from a bizarre dream. But you don't wake up. Instead, you climb back into the nondescript van, and ride back down the mountain, past the gaudy motels and farms, and right back to the train station where you started your strange adventure.
And now you know what happened in my life today.