Holidays or prison for employees

Since I've been working, I've never gone on vacation. I'm not talking about staying at home to do your usual activities outside of work. I am talking about this Western practice of visiting and discovering foreign countries during this period called "vacation".

Hell is paved with good intentions
If you want to get out of the hell of wage earning (like me), protect yourself from holidays and what we like about this job. Holidays are a decoy. You think you need it to supposedly breathe between work periods? I think they're untruthful. If the idea of paid leave is not to be thrown in the garbage, it is for those who want to get out of this wage condition a golden cage, forcing them to indulge in their misery.

Holidays, therefore, are a decoy for two main reasons.

They offer an experience of dummy life, because they are planned and devoid of a notion specific to existence: risk.

It is possible for us to leave. Preferably far away, in a country that we do not know, without having to face the hostility of an unknown territory, without having to discover the country in all its complexity in all its harshness and difficulties.

A simulacrum of reality
The place of our sleeping is defined in advance. Like a luxury timepiece, everything is well programmed, planned, planned and organized.

Most Parisians recognize how horrible the average Parisian employee's life is. Horror of transport, horror of social violence, horror of economic violence. However, if we ourselves were tourists in this city, as we can be elsewhere, we would not fail to say how beautiful, interesting and rich in history and subtleties it is.

It is precisely this idyllic and angelic vision of holidays that appeals to me.

The bias introduced by travel security, planned, reserved and financial security, produces an experience that is nothing like what we might encounter in our daily life, the "real" life. These vacancy variables alter our perception of reality, and lead us to think about living an enriching experience. The real is cut off from its very essence, and that is what we appreciate most.

But this ersatz of life, this fake world, leads us to accept the disgusting afflictions of which we complain incessantly.