Photo of the day

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

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

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

Home Sweet Home

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

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

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?

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

Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet

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

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

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!