TBM #1

The question that seems to come up in many emails from y'all is: "How are you spending your time." Since I try to make each blog entry interesting, I try to avoid writing about the trivial, boring, and the mundane. However, by popular demand and to answer the question above, I will create a series of blog entries dedicated to the "TBM." [Michael, please let me know if you need a translation :) ]

During the past week...

Saturday: Went to Shakespeare and Company and heard a panel discussion on Barak Obama by contributers to the New York Review of Books. Met up with Anne (a friend of Pat Mandel) from San Francisco and three of her friends and had dinner. Luca and I being, the youngest of the gang, went out for a beer afterwards.

Sunday: Putzed around in the morning, ate lunch, went swimming, talked to strangers. (I am working on writing my own rules, and one of them will be "talk to strangers." Met Cherif, who is very funny and does a great impression of English people trying to speak French.

Monday: I can't remember. Is the alzheimers starting to set in? Oh, I know... I was supposed to go to Marseille and Montpellier on Wednesday, but after a few more hours searching the internet, I could not find a hotel room in Marseille. So, I cancelled the trip... and lost one of the three train tickets as it was an internet special. Boo hoo. Went to the Musee du Moyen Ages - museum of the middle ages - which was really quite interesting and may deserve it's own blog posting.

Tuesday: Hung out with Luca, who introduced me to the 19th arrondisement (neighborhood) and a pool where people actually know how to swim, at least compared to my regular pool. Finally, I had a decent workout. Then, Luca made lunch, and afterwards we walked around Butte Chaumont (a park) and Bassin de la Villette (a canal.)


Afterwards, I headed all the way across Paris to meet up with Fabrizio, the flight attendant I met on the flight to Paris, and we walked around a nighborhood near the Tour Eiffel and had dinner. Returned home to watch the French national soccer team lose to Pays-Bas (Netherlands.)
Here's a few photos of the Tour Eiffel. More photos below.




Wednesday. Hung out with Antonio for awhile. Looked at some of his artwork, which he is taking around to galleries in hopes of finding someone who will display and sell his work. http://www.antoniofarina.es/ Went shopping, and did not have dinner with Richard as he requested that we reschedule for Thursday. Went out late and took photos and stayed up late writing (previous) blog entry.

Thursday: Woke up late after being awake until 2:30 am. Damn those late night blog postings! Read and sent email including a response to an email from my father. Apparently, I was in his email address book and received a mass-mailing about his run for the Montana state legislature. Despite the fact that this was the first time that he has initiated contact with me in forever, albeit by accident, I decided to reply. I wished him the best in his campaign, but indicated that I hope a democrat wins. Oddly, I've still not received a reply. ;-\ Went swimming. Hosted Richard for dinner and made a very tasty salad, spicy pasta and tender beef marinated in garlic and olive oil. It was late and Richard left without dessert, so I've been eating the mille feuille and chocolate tartelette on my own since then. Yummmy!

Friday: Breakfast. Wandered around with Ariel for awhile, passed the temporary eco-park in front of City Hall. We stood in line for the Princess Grace exhibit, but after about 45 minutes to an hour, we bailed and went to L'Open Cafe for a beverage. There is a column WWW.World is Strange in 2X magazine which had an article on "photobombing." And, I quote: "Faire le couille sur la photo d'un autre, on appelle ca le photobombing (c'est toujours tres tendance de sortir un nouveau mot en parlant tres fort a la terrasse de l'Open.)" Here we were, reading and talking about this new expression "photobombing" that we must use while sitting at l'Open Cafe. The world really is strange.


Photobombing.... intentionally butting-in or popping-up in someone else's photo. If you're not laughing a little, look again.

Instead of the quiet evening I was thinking about, I took a walk along the Seine on the longest day of the year. Foolishly, I forgot my camera, but I saw amazing views of the City of Lights, including Le Tour Eiffel lit up and sparkling, Place de la Concorde with fountains gushing recycled water and lights everywhere, and boats cruising up and down the Seine. At Pont des Arts, picnics, beer and wine are all the rage on a Friday night at 11:30 pm. I would estimate that this pedestrian bridge was host to at least 400-500 people enjoying the warm weather and the view. Perhaps this is a regular summer thing, or a celebration of the end of the school year (as they mostly seemed to be college-aged,) or a way of celebrating the summer solstice. Regardless, I now understand why Paris smells like urine along the Seine... and trust me, it's not the dogs.

Okay, that was my TBM week. Until next time... a la prochaine.

Some more photos of the Eiffel Tower. This will be my next apartment. Check out what's in my backyard.
If only I could print these - I could send them as postcards.




Ellen - This one is for you! Say "hello" to Mr. Elephant.

'Twas a Full Moon - or Another Night in Paris

'Twas a full moon tonight... only it was nowhere to be seen. Damn! Now what? I need another theme. Okay, how about...

The following takes place between 9:55 and 10:19 pm.
There was a full moon tonight. I went in search of this lunar spectacle, only to find clouds on the horizon. But, the first day of summer is almost upon us, and in Paris the sun sets much later than in California.

9:58 pm
The Centre Pompidou is closing. It's late, but it doesn't look like night time.

[Remember, you can click on the photos to see a larger image.]

10:04 pm
Rue Rivoli - a major shopping street. Is it really after 10pm? Maybe that is why all of the stores are closed.

10:07 pm
Yacht de Paris cruise heading west on the Seine. Perfect weather for a boat ride in a suit and tie. My little Cannon camera takes decent photos at dusk.


10:09 pm
Sun setting over Pont Neuf and the Conciergerie. At least I think that is Pont Neuf. Nope, it's Pont au Change - Pont Neuf is the bridge just behind. [Click to enlarge if you really want to see Pont Neuf - barely.]


10:11 pm
First photo where the flash went off automatically. Not a good shot. Deleted.

10:17 pm
Notre Dame at "night."

10:22 pm The lights in the Parvis de Notre Dame come on.

Bonus Material
10:24 pm
Impromptu football game (that would be soccer for y'all who live in America) in the plaza in front of Notre Dame.

The orange shirts would indicate they are from Pays-Bas. Where the heck is Pay-Bas? Well, it took a little bit to figure this out last week when Pay-Bas kicked France's butt in a World Cup playoff. Pays (country) and Bas (over there) translates loosely into English as "land" and "nether," hence it is the Netherlands a.k.a Holland. But wait, their flag is also red, white and blue - so why are they wearing orange? It is the color of the Dutch Royal Family, descendants of William of Orange. How about that? A little lesson in geography, history and a sports update all rolled into one paragraph!


10:37 pm
Here's a nice little night time photo of a small street just a couple streets away from Notre Dame. Now, it's looking like night time!
10:39 pm
Another shot of the Seine, with a lovely blue sky. I think the photo has a bit more blue than was actually there, but it looks nice.

11:00
Return home.
Download pictures.
Select photos for Blog.
Write Blog posting.

00:38
Finish writing Blog

00:40
Upload photos.
Adjust layout.

01:15
Publish Blog.

1:39
Review blog layout.
Correct formatting.
Re-load photos.
Publish again.

Ahhhh.... another day - and night - in Paris. Good Night. Bonne Nuit.

Routines

As time passes, we develop routines. What is novel one day, becomes a routine after a few days, weeks or months. Nine weeks have passed since I arrived in Paris, and life has become a bit more routine. This is to be expected. I spend my time hanging out with friends, watching television, going to the supermarket, eating and walking around Paris. The novelty has slowly faded as routines have silently emerged.

Then, I remember that novelty and routine are relative. While my life seems a bit more routine in many ways, there's always a little twist.

While watching television, like a small child, I'm pleased with myself when I grasp the topic of a convesation and understand a few words here and there. Today, Al Jazeera Children caught my attention. Seriously, it's a real channel. It was quite entertaining to watch young girls, about 10 years old, wearing birkas, strapped backwards to each another in siamese-twin safety vests, and trying to throw balls into basketball-like hoops. Not something we typically see on American television.

A trip to the supermarket is always entertaining.
I rather enjoy looking at the various types of products available, trying to decipher what's inside a package, and doing a little cost-comparision analysis. Cheese tends to be less expensive, for example. Very tasty fresh mozarella di bufalo from Italy is only $1.60 for 125 g whereas a package of 8 flour tortillas costs nearly five dollars. The mini ice cream cones from Picard, weighing about an ounce each, are quite tasty. And some of the fruit I've seen at the produce market - well let's just say some are new to me.
[This really is a supermarket that I go regularly.]



Hanging out with friends. I do it in the U.S., and I do it here. During the past week, I've wandered the streets with Antonio (from Mexico), met up with Sebastien (an actual frenchman who just took a new job in Paris) and informed me that I pronouce "beaucoup" improperly, made dinner for Richard from England who ended up on my sofa last Friday night after missing the last metro, and with Ariel (originally from Argentina) and a few of his friends where the conversation constantly fluctuated among French, Spanish and English. So, it's the same thing I do in San Francisco - kind of.

My diet has also become a bit more routine. I've become quite good at making salads (Cynthia, don't fall out of your chair), preparing (pre-fab) crepes for breakast with a bit of lardon, porc et une oeuf, and at least once a week I have shwarma or 'un sandwich greque.' Then, there's the pastries, which I justify by making sure I swim two to three times per week if the pool is not closed due to a "mouvement sociale" - government workers who are protesting. Oh, and bread of course!

No matter where we are or what we're doing, eventually life becomes a bit more routine. So, it's good to take a step back and think about the little things that are slightly different and fun and make life interesting. After all, even with routine, there is always some variety which is, as we Americans say, "is the spice of life." I'm glad that I can find variety, even when life is "routine."

Routine photo of street musicians at San Michel.

Routine photo of Notre Dame which is just down the street and which I routinely pass.

Events in front of Hotel de Ville (City Hall) are routinely changing. For the next few weeks, there will be an eco-garden. It's a lot of work for a temporary exhibition.

Even "les chats" like to have their routine little naps during the 'dog days of summer.' It was above 80 degrees this afternoon.

Mardi Trois

Mardi, trois juin 2008. (Mardi le trois, pas Mardi Gras.)

It's Tuesday, the third of June and I've just finished watching "8 Femme" starring French cinema divas such as Catherine Deneuve, Isabelle Huppert and Fanny Ardant. A murder mystery based on a play, the film has a lot of plot twists, and features a musical number by each of the eight actresses. Each of whom may have had a reason to "assassiner" Marcel, the husband, father, brother, son-in-law, employer, etc. etc. Directed by Francois Ozon, whom I saw a couple years ago at the SF LGBT Film Festival, it's a fun and campy film. Fortunately, I rented the film on Netflix a couple months before leaving San Francisco, and was able to follow along "sans sout-titres" without subtitles.

So, it's Tuesday night at 23:00 and it looks like it's about to rain. Time for bed. Or not! What better time to walk around Paris without a lot of people on the streets. Knowing that my blog entries must have photos... (no real need to do a Blogger poll and ask "more photos or more words" as I can imagine what the response would be... but maybe I will ask y'all anyway as it is time for another poll) I grab my camera and head into the dark.

In celebration of the French Open, tennis courts have been set up on the square in front of Hotel de Ville. Nearly every week, there is some new exhibit or event taking place in front of City Hall. This week, tennis takes center stage. Having a little time on my hands, I actually watched two matches with Novak Djokovic. He has a temper (throwing his racket to the ground,) a sense of humor, does imitations of other tennis players and can sing. Here's a few examples:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fb1IM4ttDug&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FIYDZ9a1YQ&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAt0O-RkRwk

I noticed on his French Open profile that he has already made $2.7 million this year. Is it too late for me to consider a career in tennis??

Heading down the Seine, in the City of Lights, I captured a couple of street and bridge shots. [Click to view larger images.]

Further down, and after crossing a bridge of L'Isle de la Cite, I stumbled across this view of LaTour Eiffel with it's "night light" and Notre Dame.

Across the bridge on the other side of the Seine is La Musee du Monde Arabe. I saw a King Tut exhibit here a couple of years ago with Michael, who now lives in Montpellier. I hope to go visit him and Hugo soon as I haven't seen them since September when they visited San Francisco. The top floor has a great view and a restaurant. Maybe I'll convince Ellen to go for lunch when she visits in July.

An passageway between two streets near St. Paul.

A colorful little gallery near St. Paul.

It is nearly 00:30, and I had wandered further than I had planned. So, I head over to visit Ariel who works nights at a hotel near Place des Voges. We chat for a bit, and then I headed home as the rain starts to lightly fall. Another day, another night in Paris - the City of Lights.

Pain Perdu - but all is not lost

Not surprisingly, the French do not call it "French toast," but rather 'lost bread' or "pain perdu." Bread can go stale in any country, but the Milton's whole grain bread from Costco can last a week or two if stored in the refrigerator - at least for me. In France, I'm pleasantly surprised if the bread I purchased the evening before is still edible the next morning. Like rice in China and corn tortillas in Mexico, bread is a part of daily life and integral ingredient of 'la cuisine francaise' and incorporated into most meals.

And it's cheap at about one euro per baguette. Then again, it's not cheap. Just think, if you were to spend one euro per day on bread - that's 30 euros, or nearly $50 dollars a month on bread. Wow! However, Europeans are very resourceful and less wasteful. Having read about Schwarzenegger's drought declaration on Yahoo! this morning, it seems to me that Californians can learn something from a basic plumbing feature in France. Toilets have two buttons - one for a big flush and one for a little flush. California could probably save hundreds of millions of gallons of water per day with this one simple little innovation. But, I digress...

France is not the only country with 'lost bread.' Antonio, my artist friend from Mexico via Spain, suggested a recipe. So, this morning I cut the stale poppy-seed baguette into slices and dipped them into egg (no milk). In a pan, I drizzled a little olive oil and salt (apparently a Mexican cleaning woman once told him that adding salt to olive oil keeps it from splattering when heated,) and added the bread. Sprinkle with a little fresh ground pepper and "voila!" - a tasty and savory Spanish version of pain perdu.

So, to all of "mes amis" and "mi amigos" in California, please save a loaf and try this recipe when you want a tasty little breakfast. And please, only flush when necessary.

[Yeah, you're probably thinking, "leave it to Rick to write a story that goes full cycle... from eating bread to disposing of it at the end of the line. C'est moi.]

Bits and Bites

Having recently received a few emails from friends wondering if I am alive, I'm beginning to think I need to do a few blog posts of my "boring" daily life. I have to concede that not every blog entry will be a great story, and that some can simply provide a peek into my life in Paris.

Swimming IS a contact sport. It's true, at least in Paris. I've come to appreciate what a blessing it is to swim at the University of San Francisco Koret Center and typically splitting the whole lane with one other person. In Paris, I get to be up close and personal with 10-15 other people, thrashing, kicking, hitting and pretending to swim. I estimate that, on average, I hit or bump into more people in one "workout" in Paris than I have in the past 10 years of swimming in San Francisco. Having pondered on the expression "it's all about your attitude" I've decided that I will be much happier if I just accept that it's okay to run over people in the swimming pool. Sometimes when I feel badly about being so aggessive with people who don't wear goggles while swimming or who actually wear glasses (yes, it's true) I remember, that sometimes we can't change our situation, but we can change our attitude. Repeat after me: "swimming is a contact sport, swimming is a contact sport." Allez.

"My" boulangerie, which is the one on my street, is closed on weekends. Fortunately there is one just a couple blocks away that is open. Today, after swimmng I stopped by for a "tradition" and they were out. So, I just asked for a baguette instead. There are several types of breads - tradition, baguette, mult-grain, cereal, talmiere, etc., so you must know what you want. And the best part... it was still warm. 6:00 on Saturday and I'm handed a loaf, errr, baguette that is still warm - so warm in fact that I have to switch hands after half a minute as it cools down. The stereotype is that "madame" takes the bread home under one arm, whereas as "monsieur" takes a bite. I tend to be more discrete and simply rip off the end and start eating it immediately. This is what it looks like when I arrive home.

People ride bicycles everywhere and there is a new service called Velib, which was introduced last July. By May, the service has been used more than 20 million times and has around 200,000 subscribers. There are stations all over the City, more than 20,000 bikes which can be rented on a daily, weekly or annual basis. Daily is 1 euro, weekly is 5 euros and it's only 29 euros for a year. The first 30 minutes of each trip are free. Go shopping, and then get another bike to return home. Each 30-minutes is free. Each additoinal half-hour costs only one euro, so a trip of an hour and 25 minutes would only cost 2 euros more. And, it used by all sorts of people, even men in suits heading home after work. [Anthony - check out http://www.velib.paris.fr/]

Of course, the signage in Paris can be a bit confusing, so be alert while riding a bike.
Other "exciting" things this week: Wandered around with Antonio and checked out a few galleries - he's looking for somewhere to show - or more importantly - sell his artwork. Saw "Sex and the City" - the television version was more risque than the movie. And watched "Indiana Jones et le royaume du crâne de cristal." Definitely implausible, definitely sketchy in terms of facts and history and definitely a lot of fun.

Crazyvores

It’s Saturday night in Paris. Alex, Ariel and I are planning to go to Crazyvores. Ariel had to work, and cancels. Alex wants to back-out. But, I am persuasive. Reminding Alex that what we do is much more interesting than what we don’t do, he concedes. A phone call to Ariel, following a nap, convinces him that it is better to go dancing than to be at home alone on his ninth-anniversary weekend. If he can’t be with Renaud on their anniversary (could it be the manipulative mother-in-law?) then I am happy to persuade him to go out and have some fun.

La Nuit des Crazyvores alternates with La Nuit des Follivores. The origin of the name is not clear, but I like the idea of “carnivore” colliding with “crazy.” French music from the 1980s is the theme for Follivores, whereas English (language) music from the 80s is what we are looking forward to tonight. “Night” or “la nuit,” is a bit misleading as the club opens at 23:45. Apres un petit rendez-vous chez Ariel, we walk over to Boulevard Voltaire (doesn’t that sound French?) and wait… in… line… to get in to Bataclan http://www.le-bataclan.com It’s about 1:00, so technically it’s Le Matin (morning) des Crazyvores.

The place is packed. For a moment, I’m thinking… “what the hell am I thinking?” It’s early in the morning when I’m usually asleep, the place is huge and crowded, I’m feeling old having just past #43, and they’re playing ENGLISH music which I don’t recognize. “Oy.” But then I remember my theme for this trip “pourquoi pas?” “Why not?” And, earlier in the evening it was me who was reminding Alex that what we DO is far more interesting than what we DON’T do. Okay, let’s go!

Finally, some American songs from the 80s. Of course all of the French “mecs” knew the lyrics better than I. Then, some music from Madonna (is she American or English?) Fortunately, as of February 1st of this year, smoking is no longer permitted in bars, clubs and restaurants, so I could breathe. Well, almost. The lack of ventilation was obvious as I started to sweat despite just starting to dance. Now, for the good news - bad news. Parisian men are better looking, better groomed and dress better than American men. But as Alex pointed out, French guys can’t dance. For some strange reason, I just assumed that “les mecs franciais” would dance better than they do. Instead they dance as poorly as straight men in America. Tonight, I’m not so self-conscious about my own lack of dancing skills.

After a few hours of dancing, Alex and Ariel decide to bail a little after 4:00. My second wind has kicked in and the DJ is starting to play more familiar music, so I decide to stay a little longer. Like Billy Idol – an 80s icon – I am “dancing with myself,” albeit along with hundreds of others. A nice crowd. Fun music. Hot men. Even I was feeling hot – literally. Due to the lack of ventilation, I was sweating like a “cochon.” My shirt was completely wet, which would usually gross me out, but when in Rome (or Paris)… it’s somehow okay.

The Metro resumes service between 5:30 and 6:00, so that is when most people go home. But I am not a crazyvore parisian, and I can walk home, so I leave earlier than most. Moi, je part a 5:15. The streetlights go off while I am returning “chez moi.” It’s Sunday morning in Paris… and time to go to bed.