I really, really thought, given that I live in a ridiculously exclusive apartment building in a ridiculously exclusive arrondissement in a ridiculously exclusive city, I would have escaped the scourge of American college students playing their horrific dance music at horrific volumes at all hours.
Not so. Not so.
I really, really hate these people.
Also, hi! I'm back from Barcelona. It was fun. I have lots of pictures. You'll see them later.
edit: Sorry, that was really whiny. I plead exhaustion. Also foiled expectations.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Saturday, April 7, 2007
a couple photos of the seine, and new shoes.
The weather here is gorgeous. The other day I went for a walk along the Seine; I had a lovely picture of the sun on the water, but I got so caught up in the frenzy of deleting over a hundred Loire photos from my camera that I accidently erased it. Oops.
I walked along the island that runs through the middle of the Seine for a fair distance. I was, in succession, surrounded by a mob of German tourists in backpacks, surrounded by a mob of French mothers pushing baby strollers, surrounded by a mob of Amerian tourists, and then, when I thought I was free of them, I walked right through a wedding-photo session. They were a very cute young couple, maybe 25, Asian, very sparkly in general; I couldn't figure out, though, why they were doing their wedding photos underneath a bridge. Later they drove by me in a giant black SUV piloted by two stern-looking old men. And then I ran up on the Statue of Liberty.
And crossed to the other side of the Seine and took a boat photo. Skye met a girl at one of her open mikes who lives on one of these boats; she apparently has stories about people coming to her parties, getting drunk, and falling in the Seine, which is probably the nastiest river to fall into, ever. At least it's not the Revolution and they're throwing corpses in it.
Printemps was perhap less successful than I'd have liked, but in addition to a headache I got these shoes. They are possibly the most ridiculous shoes I own. They're sold as "bath shoes," which probably just means that they're so shoddily made Printemps won't vouch for them holding up in anything but a shower. Oh well. Can we ignore how weird my feet look in this photo, and focus on how weird the shoes look in this photo?
Gosh they're bright. That's the imprint of my jeans in my leg from sitting on it funny, in case you're wondering why I look all wrinkly.
I walked along the island that runs through the middle of the Seine for a fair distance. I was, in succession, surrounded by a mob of German tourists in backpacks, surrounded by a mob of French mothers pushing baby strollers, surrounded by a mob of Amerian tourists, and then, when I thought I was free of them, I walked right through a wedding-photo session. They were a very cute young couple, maybe 25, Asian, very sparkly in general; I couldn't figure out, though, why they were doing their wedding photos underneath a bridge. Later they drove by me in a giant black SUV piloted by two stern-looking old men. And then I ran up on the Statue of Liberty.
And crossed to the other side of the Seine and took a boat photo. Skye met a girl at one of her open mikes who lives on one of these boats; she apparently has stories about people coming to her parties, getting drunk, and falling in the Seine, which is probably the nastiest river to fall into, ever. At least it's not the Revolution and they're throwing corpses in it.
Printemps was perhap less successful than I'd have liked, but in addition to a headache I got these shoes. They are possibly the most ridiculous shoes I own. They're sold as "bath shoes," which probably just means that they're so shoddily made Printemps won't vouch for them holding up in anything but a shower. Oh well. Can we ignore how weird my feet look in this photo, and focus on how weird the shoes look in this photo?
Gosh they're bright. That's the imprint of my jeans in my leg from sitting on it funny, in case you're wondering why I look all wrinkly.
les vacances
I am officially on spring break. Easter break, actually; it strikes me as somewhat odd that France, being such a resolutely secular country, insists on calling this les vacances de Paques. Anyway, I have two weeks. From Tuesday to Saturday I'll be in Barcelona, and from Sunday to the next Saturday Mom will be here. I'm allowing myself to actually feel like I'm on break now, because I finished my European Union paper -- twelve pages in French in a subject that is totally new to me, no paper will ever be hard again. Actually I still have to do my footnotes etc, but today I'm celebrating. I.e., Skye and I are going shopping. There's this semi-legendary French department store called Printemps (fittingly, "spring") that we have to check out. Obviously.
The weather is ridiculous -- mid to high sixties and sunny all week. (Here. In Barcelona, it's supposed to rain, Tuesday through Friday. Oh well.) There are a bunch of museums I want to go to (Picasso museum, museum of medieval archaeology, the Orangerie, where Monet's waterlily paintings are), but I think they're all going to be closed Sunday and Monday because of Easter. How inconvenienced I am.
What I really want is a sugar crepe. I am addicted, and the crepe stand near my house has been closed for a week. These people are not allowed to take a vacation right now, I need crepes! Now if you'll excuse me. Perhaps there are some crepe stands over by Printemps.
The weather is ridiculous -- mid to high sixties and sunny all week. (Here. In Barcelona, it's supposed to rain, Tuesday through Friday. Oh well.) There are a bunch of museums I want to go to (Picasso museum, museum of medieval archaeology, the Orangerie, where Monet's waterlily paintings are), but I think they're all going to be closed Sunday and Monday because of Easter. How inconvenienced I am.
What I really want is a sugar crepe. I am addicted, and the crepe stand near my house has been closed for a week. These people are not allowed to take a vacation right now, I need crepes! Now if you'll excuse me. Perhaps there are some crepe stands over by Printemps.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
enfin, bref.
A few remarks, in no particular order:
The faux-hawk appears to be the hairstyle of choice for young Asian men in Paris.
Today I saw a line of Sarkozy posters, maybe twenty of them, in which his face had been violently and specifically torn out of each one. (Nicholas Sarkozy, for those of you just joining us, is the right-wing candidate for French president.)
The FCC has ruled that using cell phones will (still) not be allowed on planes. Allow me to do a little jig of joy.
A man appeared to me on the subway today wearing a strand of parsley about his neck, possibly to ward off vegetarian vampires. Or carnivorous ones. I haven't worked this idea out fully.
The faux-hawk appears to be the hairstyle of choice for young Asian men in Paris.
Today I saw a line of Sarkozy posters, maybe twenty of them, in which his face had been violently and specifically torn out of each one. (Nicholas Sarkozy, for those of you just joining us, is the right-wing candidate for French president.)
The FCC has ruled that using cell phones will (still) not be allowed on planes. Allow me to do a little jig of joy.
A man appeared to me on the subway today wearing a strand of parsley about his neck, possibly to ward off vegetarian vampires. Or carnivorous ones. I haven't worked this idea out fully.
Monday, April 2, 2007
on pronunciation
Hey Londonderry, New Hampshire:
You pronounce "les Invalides" "lay-zahn-vah-leed". There's a bit of slurring together between the words. I cannot figure out how to transcribe the A sound there, though. There's sort of an I in it too.
Sheesh, the weird ways people find this blog.
You pronounce "les Invalides" "lay-zahn-vah-leed". There's a bit of slurring together between the words. I cannot figure out how to transcribe the A sound there, though. There's sort of an I in it too.
Sheesh, the weird ways people find this blog.
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