Monday, October 25, 2010
French phrase of the day: "Respirer Paris, cela conserve l'âme."
Def: Breathing Paris preserves the soul.—Victor Hugo
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The morning moon
What's prettier than a rising full moon over Paris?
Seeing it, in all its glory, still hanging over the empty streets the next morning.
It's going to be a great Sunday.
Seeing it, in all its glory, still hanging over the empty streets the next morning.
It's going to be a great Sunday.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Full moon over Paris
Actually, tonight is the full moon. But the past few evenings have been nothing short of spectacular. I was walking towards the Seine from L'Arc de Triomphe, paused for a traffic light and - oh, hello - a beautiful moon rising...
And the sunset around the Eiffel Tower?? Come on!
And the sunset around the Eiffel Tower?? Come on!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Ride, baby, ride
My friends JP and Kyoko shot this stop-motion video for the darling Vélo Vintage bike shop in Montmartre. It’s a great promotion of the bike shop, oui, but an even better celebration of Paris.
I promise you will want to hop on a bicycle the minute it is over.
Bon vendredi!
I promise you will want to hop on a bicycle the minute it is over.
Bon vendredi!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
French phrase of the day: ça fait chaud au coeur de voir
Def: it is heartwarming to see
Apropos of nothing. Just a nice, new phrase for me. And maybe you.
Apropos of nothing. Just a nice, new phrase for me. And maybe you.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
French phrase of the day: faire la gueule
Def: (slang) to have a cold or frown-y face – or, in other words, to be in a bad mood
This is a good one for me to know. I am mercurial. Moody. And right now it’s a bad mood.
It’s nothing major. One of those “everything and nothing” situations. I am stressed. I feel stretched too thin. I overschedule myself and know I shouldn’t but I do it any way.
It’s the same with candy. I get in a place. I can’t stop. I know it’s not good for me, but I keep dipping into that 300g bag of Haribo Tagada. Dis-gusting! (But the sugar’s so good!)
And I get annoyed with myself for doing it.
I can’t put an outfit together. I can’t afford to shop.
I am sick of my hair and my makeup and I am putting on weight.
It’s so cold outside. And often, inside.
Work is super stressful right now. Politics and personalities.
On the freelance front, I want more success than I’m finding. Would some editor pul-eeze buy one of my pitches??
It’s everything and nothing. But bad moods happen in every language. C’est la vie.
This is a good one for me to know. I am mercurial. Moody. And right now it’s a bad mood.
It’s nothing major. One of those “everything and nothing” situations. I am stressed. I feel stretched too thin. I overschedule myself and know I shouldn’t but I do it any way.
It’s the same with candy. I get in a place. I can’t stop. I know it’s not good for me, but I keep dipping into that 300g bag of Haribo Tagada. Dis-gusting! (But the sugar’s so good!)
And I get annoyed with myself for doing it.
I can’t put an outfit together. I can’t afford to shop.
I am sick of my hair and my makeup and I am putting on weight.
It’s so cold outside. And often, inside.
Work is super stressful right now. Politics and personalities.
On the freelance front, I want more success than I’m finding. Would some editor pul-eeze buy one of my pitches??
It’s everything and nothing. But bad moods happen in every language. C’est la vie.
Winter in Paris, life in Paris
If Paris is a city devoted to pleasure, then there’s is no use being miserable, right? I turned my heat on this past weekend. I am denying on the onset of winter. At least, trying to. But it’s not easy when my alarm rings out at 7:30 and it’s still pitch-black outside. I don’t think there’s anything worse than waking up to a cold, dark bedroom.
Coincidentally, I am still reading Lucy Wadham’s The Secret Life of France and, after a year and a half here—much of it which has felt like winter—some things are beginning to make sense.
The French are the biggest consumers of psychotropic drugs in the world, Lucy reports. Contrary to popular belief, they far outstrip the Americans. Recent research by scientists from Bordeaux found that almost a quarter of all French, more than 15 million people, admitted to having taken either anti-depressants or tranquillisers in the past year — five times as many as in Britain and a third more than in America…
… The widespread use of these drugs does not alter the fact that France has one of the highest suicide rates in Europe. According to OECD figures, approximately seventeen out of every hundred thousand French people take their own lives each year, compared to seven Britons. You might ask why – in a society where the quality of life seems to be superior, where fertility and life expectancy and literacy are higher, where the crime rate is lower and teenage pregnancies fewer – so many people want to kill themselves.
She goes on to (modestly and cautiously) propose some theories: All the values that form the bedrock of France’s collective unconscious – the Cult of Beauty, the Tragic (rather than the Comic) world view, the Cult of Reason – leave French people particularly ill-equipped for the harsher aspects of reality.
On a lighter note, I will add the climate. The cloying, tenacious grey. The chill that sits in your bones and refuses to leave.
As easy as it is to be in love with Paris, and 17 years after first being bitten, I am still very much in love, it is hard to live here.
Easy to fall in love with the place. But living in Paris is hard.
Coincidentally, I am still reading Lucy Wadham’s The Secret Life of France and, after a year and a half here—much of it which has felt like winter—some things are beginning to make sense.
The French are the biggest consumers of psychotropic drugs in the world, Lucy reports. Contrary to popular belief, they far outstrip the Americans. Recent research by scientists from Bordeaux found that almost a quarter of all French, more than 15 million people, admitted to having taken either anti-depressants or tranquillisers in the past year — five times as many as in Britain and a third more than in America…
… The widespread use of these drugs does not alter the fact that France has one of the highest suicide rates in Europe. According to OECD figures, approximately seventeen out of every hundred thousand French people take their own lives each year, compared to seven Britons. You might ask why – in a society where the quality of life seems to be superior, where fertility and life expectancy and literacy are higher, where the crime rate is lower and teenage pregnancies fewer – so many people want to kill themselves.
She goes on to (modestly and cautiously) propose some theories: All the values that form the bedrock of France’s collective unconscious – the Cult of Beauty, the Tragic (rather than the Comic) world view, the Cult of Reason – leave French people particularly ill-equipped for the harsher aspects of reality.
On a lighter note, I will add the climate. The cloying, tenacious grey. The chill that sits in your bones and refuses to leave.
As easy as it is to be in love with Paris, and 17 years after first being bitten, I am still very much in love, it is hard to live here.
Easy to fall in love with the place. But living in Paris is hard.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Golden eggs and Larry Gagosian
Gagosian opened in Paris today. They’re having a major opening night soirée right now. But, I don’t know, my invitation got lost in the mail or something.
Still, I got to peek at the space this morning.
Even better, I bumped into Mel, who was there with her artnet crew. A beautiful way to start the day.
(Beaucoup more beautiful than the Cy Twombly paintings, wouldn't you say?)
There’s been lots of fanfare around Mr. Larry coming to the City of Light. Local architect Jean-Francois Bodin renovated the former hotel particulier next door to Christie’s. Now it’s a crisp white contemporary gallery.
As soon as I make my first million, I think I’ll go back for one of these amazingly beautiful but disturbing paintings.
Still, I got to peek at the space this morning.
Even better, I bumped into Mel, who was there with her artnet crew. A beautiful way to start the day.
(Beaucoup more beautiful than the Cy Twombly paintings, wouldn't you say?)
There’s been lots of fanfare around Mr. Larry coming to the City of Light. Local architect Jean-Francois Bodin renovated the former hotel particulier next door to Christie’s. Now it’s a crisp white contemporary gallery.
As soon as I make my first million, I think I’ll go back for one of these amazingly beautiful but disturbing paintings.
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