Planet What

Sassiest-kids-in-America, part two.

2010-07-23T02:09:00.002+02:00

Sassiest-kids-in-America, part one.

2010-07-22T23:11:00.003+02:00

Meg, it was your birthday.

2009-12-17T21:17:00.011+01:00

My housemate is from the Prairies; a land of very hot summers and ridiculously cold winters. As a result, she enjoys extremes. The weather in Montreal had been kind of temperate as of late, hovering around zero, spiking up to ten and then back down again, bringing us blustery evenings that were somehow often followed by milder days that tended to melt the snow away... Against my stronger desires, my housemate got her birthday wish of extreme cold and snow this year. Meg, you are now a year older, and winter is finally here. To celebrate, we devoured a Beetlejuice cake, played Nintendo, and Jack Frost had a party on my window...

These are not fall colours.

2009-10-23T00:17:00.005+02:00

October 22 and snowing in Montreal?
'Fraid so, blue planet...
The melting kind!

Medieval People

2009-10-11T02:17:00.009+02:00

Wooh, it's been a while! No time for blogging when a girl's school is not on strike and no fun trips are being taken! That said, i did find the time to procrastinate long enough to put together this shoddy lil' video filled with winter-road-trip-idleness from last February.

It all began when i missed the last metro home on the eve of our departure. Tired, I opted for taking a 10 Euro cab ride from Concorde to Montmartre (that's expensive!), so i thought i should try to catch some footage along the way. 4 measly hours of sleep later, i met a friend for breakfast, which required taking the metro something like 9 times. Finally, it got to be road trip time. Over 4 days (that's slow!), we drove along the Loire, to Rennes and up to the coast to see Mont Saint-Michel, and then through the fields of Normandy on the road (to Rouen) and back to Paris. E. missed her flight home due to CRAZY outskirts of Paris traffic (horrible!) so we decided to console her over crème brûlée from "Les Deux Moulins." Proof:

My town's got a chinatown too!

2009-07-27T23:00:00.002+02:00

Yes, it's true. I've left the Chinatown of Paris. No more 13th arrondissement for me. But it's okay, because that means I get to walk around the Chinatown of the world's second largest French speaking city, my hometown, Montreal! After a little under a year away and the longest chunk of time I've ever spent outside of Canada, I've learned to view the familiar through the eyes of a tourist, and by jove, it's kinda fun! The best part is, there are plenty of weird and beautiful things here too. Who knew?

Magic Gloves

2009-06-26T21:32:00.009+02:00

One year on Christmas morning sometime in the late 80s, my stocking was stuffed with a pair of black magic gloves (most likely from Zellers or some place equally thrifty), that also happened to be sort of sparkly... Though magic gloves tend to be lost and replaced quite easily and frequently in the great white north, I saved my sparkly gloves (which I always called my Michael Jackson gloves) for my weekend figure skating classes and wore them without ever losing them until they fell to pieces. How magical is THAT? Other precious memories include spinning around on all fours as a toddler on my neighbours' slick parquet floor monotonously chanting: breakdancing, breakdancing, breakdancing...

I snapped this photo at the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Château de Versailles last December. Michael Jackson lives!

The lifestyle or the language.

2009-06-14T18:06:00.013+02:00

There is a store in the Marais called Ben Simon. It's kind of like a tinier, more expensive version of Urban Oufitters. Or maybe Urban Outfitters is globalization's answer to stores like Ben Simon in the Parises of the world. In a word? Unaffordable. But cute! I used to live pretty close to it, and I enjoyed walking inside for a splash of eye candy and colour to contrast the beautiful but very grey architecture of the neighbourhood and beyond. Knit plush toys, prepare to be hugged in photographs forever. You want to go to Ben Simon but you can't afford the trip to Paree? I have just the post for your poverty stricken itchy feet. This is not Paris. This is Ben's basement.

I'm right again, I'm Chinatown

2009-05-21T17:37:00.008+02:00

Let it be no secret that I absolutely ADORE the Chinatown of Paris. Nestled near the periphery in the 13th arrondissement, it’s more subdued than the North American Chinatowns I’ve visited, and at the same time, doesn’t really feel like Paris too much. I guess it makes sense that a girl who doesn’t really dig the local flavour might seek refuge in the city’s more ethnic neighbourhoods. Classy French Chinatown, you are one of the few things I will miss along with Jewish falafels, Sojade soygurt, and inexpensive (yet delicious!) red wine.

Back then the hunger artist captured the attention of the entire city

2009-05-20T01:19:00.008+02:00

Last week I went to Prague on a whim and it was Flunching awesome. I cured myself of gangrene with a pair of toenail clippers in my motel room, got lost on a mountain, and lit candles in seven cemeteries. A taste!

The sun sets not at nine

2009-05-17T21:43:00.006+02:00

Early may, and dusk has been lasting till almost 10pm! Here is the view from my window the last time the moon was (almost) full. Paris, like a piece of art you can't touch.

Oh, I also finally braved the crowds of people often gathered in front of the sparse counter of the Rose Bakery on Rue Des Martyrs to sample a soy latté at the only place in Paris you can get soy in your coffee other than Starbucks! Verdict? Totally decent. Provamel soymilk over the 'bucks watery Bjorg brand anyday, yes please. The staff were perplexed about my request not being on the menu, though. Amateurs be warned: ordering a "soy mocha hold, the mocha" might alleviate the potential complicatedness of your transaction. And because it took me months to track this place down, I will post it on the Internet one more time in hopes of helping lactose intolerant and vegan guests of Paris from around the world: you can get a soy latté in Paris, France, at the Rose Bakery! It even boasts two locations: 30, Rue Debelleyme in the Marais, and 46 Rue Des Martyrs in the 9th. Enjoy!

I sometimes forget...

2009-05-05T13:47:00.007+02:00

Pour obtenir une assistance, une modification ou une réservation, veuillez appeler vacances transat France au 01 56 93 4100 du lundi au vendredi de 10h à 17h. Samedi et dimanche fermés.

Mardi, 13:27. Beep. Vacances transat bonjour?

Oui bonjour, j’appelle pour devancer un billet d’avion?

Alors il faudra rappeler dans une demie heure madame, en ce moment nous sommes tous en pause déjeuner. Au revoir!

J’oublie parfois que je vis dans un monde où le déjeuner est le repas pris en milieu de journée, où les employés mangent tous ensemble en famille et que cette heure de lunch durera jusqu’à ce que le dernier collègue de travail aura fini son dernier petit raisin. J’oublie parfois qu’en France, notre lieu de travail ne diffère pas vraiment de notre lieu d’habitation, et que si le téléphone sonne pendant ce premier repas pris en plein milieu de journée (mis apart le croissant matinal, bouffé dans le métro avec café express, bien sûr), nous répondrons d’une manière des moins chaleureuses. Si une cliente désire changer son billet d’avion en plein après midi (quelle horreur !) nous sommes polis, mais notre ton sera juste assez glacial pour communiquer à cette cliente qui ose nous appeler qu’elle a effectivement oublié dans quel pays qu’elle se retrouve, qu’en France, nous ne savons pas afficher nos heures de DÉJEUNER sur nos horaires, que nous ne savons pas nous servir d’un RÉPONDEUR, que nous ne songerions jamais à prendre nos pauses à des heures différentes afin d’offrir un service continu pour compenser pour nos piètres heures d’ouvertures malgré que nous soyons ce qui semble être un CENTRE D’APPEL, que nous sommes précieux, quoi.

I sometimes forget that I live in a world where lunch is not only the first meal of the day, but is also taken very late. I sometimes forget that coworkers all tend to eat together as a family, and that said lunch break will last until the very last coworker has finished that very last grape. I sometimes forget that in France, one’s workplace is no different than one’s home, and should the telephone dare to ring during this first meal of the day (discounting any croissants that might have been scarfed down during that crowded metro commute to work) taken in the very middle of the day, we shall respond in a manner that is dry and curt. If a client should wish to change her plane ticket in the middle of the afternoon (the horror!) we shall be polite, but just icy enough to let her know that she has indeed forgotten just where she living, that in France, we know not how to advertise our lunch hours on any documents advertising our opening hours, that we have zero use for automated messages, that we would NEVER think to take our lunch breaks at different times so that we may offer continuous service throughout the day as a means to compensate for our meagre hours of operation even though we are what seems to be some sort of call centre. How precious.

Easter Weekend

2009-04-24T16:57:00.004+02:00

Some things that I ate, and others that I did not!

Al Cool and Stranger Wine

2009-04-03T14:20:00.001+02:00

Because yesterday was such a beautiful day!

Off the Cuff

2009-03-28T17:34:00.005+01:00

Reason to have a washing machine number 153: I've lost so many socks in Paris. You're looking at photos of comfort food and comforting objects from when I was in London a month or so ago. Was it that long ago already? Indeed it was.

Days three and four: Brittany.

2009-02-24T15:39:00.008+01:00

Rennes was everything I had hoped Paris would be: French and beautiful, populated but not overcrowded, vibrant yet personable.

Brittany is known for its crêpes, not pancakes! Baken on Demand!

The town of Dinan was even more compelling in the morning light.

The coffee that accompanied this sugar tube cost 6 euros. Talk about a Freudian slip!

And then we went home.

Day two: castles and parapets and unicorns

2009-02-23T16:35:00.009+01:00

Japanese tourists at Château Chenonceau, where lived Henri II, Catherine de Médicis, and some other people too. I photographed myself in their mirrors, I did! The drizzle got me grumpy as we ran through the maze escaping the Queen of Hearts screaming, off with their heads! Living in France has given me new insight into Alice's adventures in Wonderland: English girl crosses channel (hello, long dark tunnel?) and finds herself in a land filled with beautiful gardens where everything is just a little bit off and doesn't always make sense...

At the end of the day, we spotted another castle from the highway and drove towards it for a wonderful dusk themed photo opportunity. Mary Timony would have dug it.

Roadtrip: day one

2009-02-22T14:47:00.005+01:00

We had fully intended for an early start, believe me, but an angry squeegee man threw us off track causing us to spin around a plethora of roundabouts as we tried to make sense of some of the most flawed maps of Paris ever created. Lost in the 16th, Paris can be a difficult city to escape! We spent the night in Tours, which is said to be the town with the most neutral, international French accent there is. We only spoke to a few people, but why yes, their accents were most pleasant! Kindergarten teacher TV French, voilà quoi!

Friday the Thirteenth!

2009-02-13T17:57:00.002+01:00

Friday the thirteenth comes but twice a year! My friends and I celebrated with a roadtrip to the north west French coast visiting tiny old towns along the way. More photos soon!

Whole Foods Dreaming...

2009-02-10T01:38:00.001+01:00

I was just browsing old photos (along with some new) and came across this mouthwatering piece of Whole Foods goodness from the past. Oh Doc, can I PLEASE go back to the future?

Marching Band

2009-02-09T18:51:00.003+01:00

I live on a pretty small street. Nevertheless, I was awoken one weekend afternoon by the bang of a marching band drum or two or ten. The only half decent photo produced from the event turned out blurry if anything, but after a little tweaking, I think it came out sort of cool...

Jeudi Noir

2009-01-29T23:15:00.008+01:00

"La France est un pays de contestation perpétuelle," I was once told. The French are always striking about something. Sarkozy even went so far as to state that the French protest so much, it has become an ineffectual act that goes unnoticed most every time. But now that the man is threatening to cut jobs and funding from various sectors due to the economic crisis, half-assed picketing just will not do! The SNCF got involved, the national library, the Opera! What, May Day in January? Why, no! It's Black Thursday! While the Media predicted mayhem in the streets and on the metro, I found commuting to Bastille from Montmartre surprisingly easy today. How come? Well, it would seem that by the time I reached my destination, 2 million other people had already arrived...

Want to read more? Here is an article from The Telegraph.

Obamarama

2009-01-20T22:28:00.008+01:00

Despite not being American, and despite being halfway across the world, in FRANCE of all places, my friend Katherine and I had a little Obama inauguration party right at home, in my hovel. Here is a photo of an excited Canadian taking a photo of Bush flying out of DC in his shiny green helicopter. Bon voyage, Dubya!

We shifted back and forth between CNN's coverage of the event and the French version we were able to capt on the airwaves. Image and sound quality were, hands down, better on the TV than on the broadband, but we are only human, and there's only so much interpretation of one's own language that one can take before losing it and renouncing said second language altogether.

Our celebration of Obama's inauguration meal, made possible by the countertop in my new hovel.

In other news, remember hypercolour? I do. But hypercolour tables? WTF!?!

Only in France, my friends. Viva Obama!

Photo of the day

2009-01-18T22:58:00.009+01:00

Before leaving for the great land of France, I went to a few meetings mostly hosted by older men whose task it was to inform me about what to anticipate during my big year abroad. At one of these meetings, the OFQJ handed me a pamphlet informing me that I should expect to pay 0.80 euros for a baguette. Ladies and gentlemen, I have never seen a baguette listed for such a low price... until today! So surprised was I that I felt compelled to take a photo of this very reasonable list of prices posted on the door. The little girl's priceless facial expression at her obvious awareness of being photographed by a creepy stranger was simply an unexpected perk. Way to steal the show, little girl! I don't even think I could tell you the exact location of this bakery if I tried. Montmartre. West of the Sacré Coeur. Au bas de la butte. Hell, I don't even know if it's any good... But it is open on Sunday. A rarity worthy of being noted indeed!

Hovel Sweet Hovel

2009-01-17T15:58:00.018+01:00

I have moved! New 'hood, new hovel. It's modern. It's IKEA. It's dominated by the most gaudy shade of blue, which I've been trying to offset with various splashes of pink. It's no castle but everything works (which is nice), although the cashier at "La Maison Collignon" seems to want to marry me despite his being old enough to be my grandfather. I may have to seek out a new corner store. Oh, did I fail to mention that the new hovel is located on a famous street? Rue des Trois Frères, just a few doors over from Amélie Poulain's fictional abode, which I didn't even gather until after I moved in, go figure! The neighbourhood's cobblestone streets are windy and hilly, everything is too cute for words, and the sidewalks are a tad less crowded than the Marais. The garret itself doesn't look anything like a Jean-Pierre Jeunet film, but I've prepared a little tour nonetheless. Please, do come in!

The view.

The kitchen

The lord of the land claims that the eyesore that hangs above the bed was painted by a famous artist, and I'm under strict orders to "take care" of it. Does that mean I can't prop it upside-down against the window? Sigh.

I probably hit my head on the suspended TV about once every other day.

These glass bricks provide the much needed illusion of daily sunlight for my clothes, which is just wonderful. Who wants SAD affected clothing anyway? Not me!

Ha! That bed thinks it's a couch!

The west side of the hot plate doubles as a tea house.

The saddest fruit bowl in the world.

Thank you, MTV. Now that you've seen my crib, get out!

Paris sous la neige

2009-01-10T02:07:00.006+01:00

Even Victor Hugo is feeling the cold... Misérable!

Home Sweet Home

2008-12-22T04:00:00.008+01:00

What? Airplaine photos are boring and clichéd, you say? Oh, you're just being picky. These images depict an aerial view of New-York near the tale end of my 13 hour journey home for the holidays. Of course, these 13 hours became 15 once I'd gone through customs for the 2nd time in one day and after I'd lugged my bag into a YUL back room where I watched a little mustachioed man run his hands through all my clothes and school books and underwear while he asked me why the hell I left the country so often. Fun! I had bought a canned tulip bulb in Amsterdam I was hoping to give as a Christmas gift, which he seized. I think it made his day, actually. Oh so glad I could help, mister mustache!

That being said, it's good to be home.

Friend Opportunity

2008-12-12T00:04:00.009+01:00

Let us look back on South X Southwest, 2001, shall we? I was 19 and wanted to see Unwound more than anything. They were playing the Kill Rock Stars showcase at Emo's along with XBXRX, Bonfire Madigan, and a then unknown band called Deerhoof. Greg Saunier sat on a milkcrate on one end of the stage and Satomi stood on the opposite side controlling some sort of midi instrument or keyboard. They only played for about 10 minutes because J.Mascis and the Fog featuring Mike Watt on vocals and the original guitarist of The Stooges played for more than a bit too long before them. While 110 minutes of Mr. Mascis and co. versus ten minutes of Deerhoof might have seemed unfair at the time, I have always been a fan of leaving the crowd wanting more, so it would be hypocritical of me to complain now. Besides, I've had the good fortune of seeing Deerhoof four more times since then... And to think I almost missed their December 11, 2008 Paris performance because the world was too dark and cold and busy and expensive that day!

p.s. marry me, Deerhoof, any one of you!

A Walk in the Park

2008-12-11T00:48:00.008+01:00

Think About Life in Paris, 12-09-08. Kudos to Martin for giving a fantastic performance despite physical sickness and European tour exhaustion.

A day and a half later, I gave Matt a rapid tour of central Paris. Had you ever seen clementines so candied? Not I, no sir, no way.

Shakespeare and company, anyone? While the outside of the store, its floor detail, and mountainous stacks are commonly photographed by visitors of the world famous Anglo bookstore in the city of lights, I thought I should give a shout out to some of the store's less obvious imagery. Besides, anyone who knows me knows that any half decent upright piano or vintage typewriter can make my heart melt more than the most brightly coloured candied fruit ever could.

Finally, I give you a piece Saint Denis graffiti, visible from the RER station where I sent Matt off to the Airport. I love this cartoon pencil holding magic man.

How are you feeling today?

2008-12-09T01:12:00.007+01:00

From the junk shop window on Rue St-Paul, or the inside of my brain? Both, I say!

Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet

2008-12-06T23:32:00.011+01:00

I don't have a social life in France, so it took reading EJ's post about Saint-Nicolas to remind me that today is the day that European children get to open their Christmas gifts, or at least it is for some parts of the continent (no time for further research at this time since I have barely enough time to comb my hair!). In any case, it's definitely true for Holland, where Santa has a black slave named Saint Peter. While this seems like no big deal to Netherlanders, it was absolutely flabbergasting for me and my North-American friends who visited Amsterdam last week. Are you not flabbergasted by it too?

Just to give you an idea, these photos represent standard Holland candy store displays this time of year... Yikes!

December in the thirteenth

2008-12-03T23:18:00.005+01:00

December was a month filled with visa trials and tribulations. And by visa I mean, a valid visa in France need be supported by a French carte de séjour. And where might these carte de séjour getting headquarters be? Why, Cité Universitaire, of course. What might be around Cité Universitaire, you ask? Not a whole helluva lot, I must admit. But, and there is always a but, the thirteenth does boast this charming autumnal view, to which I say: Oooh! Ahhh!

First class seating

2008-12-01T18:45:00.003+01:00

When in Amsterdam, I like to sit by the canal in Jordaan and watch the boats drift by. FYI, this photo was taken not far from where Anne Franks' diary was scribed.

You can't take photos in the house, which is reasonable, I think. If you ever find yourself in the 'Dam, I strongly recommend rising early to beat the crowds that tend to flock to this sobering tourist attraction lest you get impatient and miss it. Kitty, do you think she knows?

Finally, to end this low country capital city post on a lighter note, I just wanted to mention that I managed to spot not just one but two Invader mosaics in Europe's Venice of the North. Much better than my previous Berlin Invader art quest, which I quite miserably flubbed... Unless you count this lil' poseur:

Yeah no, I didn't think so either. Sigh!

A quaint November outing

2008-11-17T14:19:00.011+01:00

Montparnasse, 1782. Deep down a narrow winding staircase leading halfway to hell, lie the bones of 6 million French people once buried in cemeteries that became too overcrowded to host them.

the well pictured above is not really accessible, but once upon a time, this is where tunnel workers bathed their feet.

Where is death? It is always in the past or the future. No sooner is it present than it is already gone.

Breakfast in Sweden

2008-11-11T13:30:00.003+01:00

What is the best part about living in Paris? Why, its proximity to other European countries, of course! A week ago today, I went to Stockholm, and these photos still make my mouth water. There’s nothing like this in France! I guess I’ll just have to save my Euro pennies so that I may take more trips to more utopic lands that know how to serve comfort food and soy lattés in anarchist cafés…

The Berlin Ball

2008-11-08T17:08:00.002+01:00

The Berlin Wall was erected in August of 1961 and destroyed in November of 1989, its total border once spanning 155 kilometres. Today, about 2 km of the wall remain, most of which is completely covered with the outdoor art gallery pictured above. Unfortunately, I was not able to part with any of my hard-earned euros for an east Berlin passport stamp. Bah, photos are better anyway!

All Hallows Eve, Paris Style

2008-10-31T18:25:00.006+01:00

In honour of October 31st, I made my way to the Montparnasse cemetery in order to greet the dead. Père Lachaise? Schmère LaSchmaise! At Montparnasse, the underdog of Parisian dead people parks, I got to wink at Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, who each blew me a kiss. Serge Gainsbourg was a little bit tipsy, but Baudelaire wanted me to give you a message... Happy Halloween!

Panda Express

2008-10-30T21:31:00.006+01:00

It took me a while to seek it out, but I finally made my way to the Chinatown of Paris. It has a really cool grocery store that is bountifully stocked with great ginger beer, inexpensive coconut milk, and fake meat in a can. And while none of the restaurants in the area seem to have any tofu on the menu, food market tofu is varied and abundant, and only a tiny bit too chewy. Chinatown yes, but clearly still France! But I digress, this post is not about tofu, but about the "exotic products" variety store next to the Chinese themed McDonald's of the neighbourhood! Behold, peanut butter in a can! Alcohol free Guiness! Christian-themed candles? You heard it here folks. Christian candles are almost as weird as peanut butter in a can... whatever meaning you'd like to attach to that!

Birthday 27

2008-10-29T15:29:00.004+01:00

Although there were no candles and red wine isn't always the best chaser for chocolate mousse cake, 27 was celebrated in style, with EJ in the daytime and Katherine in the eve. Thanks to everyone who helped make this birthday celebrated so far from home, not so forlorn after all!

Paris, you don't even know how snooty you are

2008-10-23T11:49:00.004+02:00

The other day, I had to drop a French literature class, so I went to the French UFR (i.e. ze Frrench department) to see if this was possible. “What? You want to drop a class?” They joked. “Mais pourquoi?”
“Il y a un conflit,” I responded. They laughed.
“A conflict of interest!” mocked the lady.
“Um, no, a scheduling conflict,” I replied.
“Conflict is English,” said the lady. “Here, we say chevauchement.” At this point I got angry. Why are the French so adamant about correcting everyone all the time? Admittedly, the conflict might have been caused by an overlap, but it remained a conflict. Must I change every single thing I would normally say just because the French like it better that way?
“Listen,” I said. “I come from a place where when we speak French we don’t use words like email and weekend, so don’t you tell me that my French sounds English. There are other countries in the world that speak French besides France, and not everyone talks like you!”
The skinny lady and the leprechaun-like man were stunned. Yes French UFR faculty, it is bad form to criticise the francophone exchange students about the words they use you might not otherwise employ.

misadventures in the third

2008-10-17T17:05:00.007+02:00

Once upon a time, a 20 something québécoise student walked into the bistro next to her Parisian studio.

student: est-ce que je peux avoir un café our emporter?
waiter: oui. mais pour emporter où? où voulez vous l'emporter ce café?
student: euh... dans ma maison!
waiter (with a crooked smile): dans ta maison! mais elle est ou cette maison? elle n'est pas loin j'espère?
student: euh... non.
waiter: alors! un café pour emporter dans ta maison!
student: oui...
exit waiter. enter waiter number two.
waiter 2: alors, on fait quoi?
waiter 1 (from stage left): un café pour emporter, dans sa maison!

Good grief, thought the student. Might there be a moral to this story? Aye. Mock not the French waiter who is trying to mock you lest ye be forced to endure the flatness of French unhumour.

P.S. Rue des Francs Bourgeois (pictured above) is not a pedestrian street.

Laundry Day

2008-10-14T17:00:00.008+02:00

When I asked my landlady if there were any “buanderies” nearby, she laughed and said: “On dit une laverie, ma chère!” If having to leave the house to do laundry last weekend wasn’t bad enough, I also had to go and lock myself out of my home with no phone, no ipod, no watch, no friendly neighbours to open the door for me… Damn you, Paris and your self-locking doors! Though it wasn’t funny at the time, I knew I’d eventually see the humour of it all, so I decided to take some photos of the Laundromat in commemoration of my conundrum. The bulk of our lives are made up of mundane moments, after all!

Enter, Sandman...

2008-10-13T14:32:00.013+02:00

"(Ger. Das Unheimliche -- literally, "un-home-ly") is a Freudian concept of an instance where something can be familiar, yet foreign at the same time, resulting in a feeling of it being uncomfortably strange.

Because the uncanny is familiar, yet strange, it often creates cognitive dissonance within the experiencing subject due to the paradoxical nature of being attracted to, yet repulsed by an object at the same time. This cognitive dissonance often leads to an outright rejection of the object, as one would rather reject than rationalize." [1]

Happy Thanksgiving, Canadian friends!

tic toc goes the easter clock

2008-10-12T12:27:00.010+02:00

I really like how people glue artistic statements up in the streets of Paris, whether it be to share a rainbow that counts black among its 4 colours, or to compare time to a kit-kat bar.

word on the street

2008-10-11T13:23:00.006+02:00

To be continued...

The great ban plea

2008-10-09T23:54:00.005+02:00

Coloured toilet paper, please die and become a ghost!

Pompidou

2008-10-06T22:32:00.024+02:00

An old friend just happened to swing by Paris last week, leaving me with a museum pass that was still good for a day. Since I am swamped with reading assignments all month, I didn’t have time to execute the grand museum tour of the town, but I did make a point of spending a couple of hours at the Museum of Fine Art, which just happens to be a few steps away from my tiny abode. The nice thing about going to a museum in Paris is you can actually take photos of the art. And to think I've almost been kicked out of New-York museums for boldly attempting such a feat! Behold: Buddha getting gutted, a Basquiat, a Picasso, not to mention a screening room full of empty chairs! The Syrian signs (depicting pop culture personae such as Michael Jackson, Lolita, and the like) were part of a non verbal film featuring random people brandishing them in public places and deserted middle eastern road sides. If that sounds like it might be unsettling, I will tell you that it was, but it was also soothing for some reason. Perhaps it was because I got to sit on such a lovely chair.

Ligne 5

2008-10-05T11:12:00.005+02:00

When reading 18th century literature in condensed periods of time, it is important to take breaks. Here is a video from a particularly engaging metro ride I took a few weeks ago on my way back to the Marais from the Quartier Latin.

Third Time Lucky

2008-10-03T16:46:00.024+02:00

It's hard to believe that just one week ago, I was walking around lost in Thiais, looking to the closest IKEA outside of Paris. I had attempted this journey twice before, never getting much farther than where the RER dropped me off (I have an enormous fear of getting on the wrong bus and winding up in the town where Bart Simpson worked in a winery, having to cede his bed to a donkey.)
Luckily, last Friday was sunny and warm into the early evening, so getting lost enabled me to see a little piece of suburban France that I might not have otherwise seen. All this just goes to show how fast the weather really can change because today is damp and cold cold cold! To top it off, there seems to be a black hole in my room that is slowly gobbling up all things that are near and dear to me. So far, I've lost my watch, hairbrush, and hat. Oh, I really need that hat!

Oh, it's not THAT bad!

2008-10-02T15:32:00.007+02:00

School started this week. Registering was really tough, and now the commuting begins. As you probably know, Paris is terribly overcrowded and no one has any manners. They cut you off, walk slowly, stand in the middle of very narrow sidewalks without walking at all. I've adopted a technique that I call "pretend you are at a packed rock show," because it's just like that. I must push and nudge and shove and growl my way through the city if I am to get anywhere when I am supposed to be there. In other news, I absolutely HATE French food, but I have discovered an authentic American diner around the corner from my house and I am going to Scope it out ASAP. If all goes well, I will get to have my first veggie burger in a very long time! Please don't disappoint me, Breakfast in America!

By the way, here's what my home looks like now that I've moved in and messed it up a little bit:

The Arc

2008-10-01T10:19:00.006+02:00

Université Paris 3 is affiliated with a school called l'ESIT (école supérieur des interprètes et traducteurs) which i guess I'm sort of taking classes at, though they call me an intern rather than a student. um, okay. That aside, the classrooms of L'ESIT are located at Université Paris Dauphine, which is in the 16th arrondissement, not far from Les Champs Elysées and l'Arc de Triomphe. I just happened to buy my cell phone near there, but didn't see the point of taking a picture of the monument at that point... When I just happened to walk in front of it again, i thought, alright, alright, i'll take a bloody picture!

Unfortunately, I didn't do a very good job of framing myself in front of the Arc, so you'll have to use your imagination.

The Oatmeal Crisis

2008-09-22T22:30:00.011+02:00

Oh quick cooking oats, I had to go to three stores to find you, even going so far as to think that we might never meet here in Paris, but I did find you, for a very reasonable 97 euro cents, and you may look disgusting, but I could never make it here without you!

Two weeks later

2008-09-22T00:29:00.005+02:00

It's been truly wonderful not to have had to write people about my trials and tribulations struggling to find a home in France's capital, for five days into my stay, i had keys to a 2 week studio sublet in the 3rd arrondissement, a long white narrow room not unlike my Montreal abode, full of ikea trinkets and very few dishes:

Better yet was visiting and getting keys to a similar studio right down the street on day 7, where i will be moving next saturday, and staying in until december:

I just watched 2 nights in Paris, completely relating to the reality of living in a tiny paris studio in a very old building... that said, the thrill of living alone for the first time ever completely makes up for any lack of space. Not to mention that all studio possibilities considered, my domiciles are not that tiny, so i consider myself rather blessed. All that's left now is learning to cook effectively with little more than a mini fridge and a hotplate.

Umbrellas

2008-05-16T00:18:00.002+02:00