Jeudi Noir

"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

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

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!