Sunday, January 29, 2012

I love...

...walking past laundrymats.  The smell of millions of clean sheets.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Friday, January 20, 2012


I love old things.  I like the dirt where I am from.
It is about the only thing that is old.  We bulldoze every structure over 50.

In France, things are Old, with capital O.
They like their old, too. (Even if it is cold.)
And sometimes, so do I.

So here is some Parisian old.  Found while taking a different route home on a gray wintery day. 
Undressed and stripped down  to show its story in horizontal and vertical layers.

Modern, recognizable Paris on the right in white with gray metal roof, showing it's 2-toned, 2-era brick bones. Then a circular staircase (reminiscent of chateaus) next to tudor-style dark beams and oeil-de-boeuf, circular windows (eye of cow).
And then clear remenants of 2 roofs with the newest layer, cement, for this generation of Parisians. Who have also, so politely, painted their names on the base so no one forgets them.   

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


Because when you watch TV in France (because you totally will if you are here more than 3 days) you should know about the commercials...

...but then of course you will! They tell you everytime there are going to be commercials!

TF1's commercial notice

Just in case you couldn't decipher Family Feud from someone eating cheese in a way that borders on soft porn.

Yes, Caprice de Dieu, I am talking to you.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Funny story of the day


I was waiting to cross the street in this rough looking neighborhood when an old man (old: 74) in a suit, slightly hunched over with age, slows down as he passes me standing on the curb waiting to cross.

"Ca bosse?"   which roughly translates "You working?"
I, in my jeans, down coat and back pack hear "Ca va?" (How's it going?)
"Oui, ça va"  (Yes, I am fine)
He comes around to the other side of me.  I, feeling weird that he is so close to me, look at him as if to say - Yes? 
"Allez, un petit bisous?" (a little kiss?)
Having already heard this in Paris, from weirdos on the street:
"Un non, non"
"Pour 50 euro"  UH hold on. WHAT?  
The light flicks on and my "translation" reworks itself in the literal sense.  This guy thinks I am "working".....waiting to cross a busy street wearing jeans, black tennis shoes, a down coat and a back pack.  WORKING?! 
"Ah non non, ça bosse pas, excusez-moi" as I RUN across the street, holding my forehead -because clearly it says "PUTE" in bright neon.

Word I say too much but is totally appropriate right now:  Seriously?!   
Phrase I rarely say but is also totally appropriate:  WTF?