2010:
2012:
New eyes see familiar sights as new too, though the aesthetic strikes the heart the same...
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Déjà Vu
It's weird when you realize that you took a photograph of the same place two years apart.
2010:
2012:
New eyes see familiar sights as new too, though the aesthetic strikes the heart the same...
2010:
2012:
New eyes see familiar sights as new too, though the aesthetic strikes the heart the same...
Friday, March 30, 2012
Très Serieuse
I wonder what this lady was thinking about so deeply on the train last Friday night? Maybe she was listening to some Ryan Power.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Land in Paris
I saw this pretty lady this last weekend.
And did we have some fun together!
Breakdown to come...
And did we have some fun together!
Breakdown to come...
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Another Good Morning
This petit monstre shines "good morning" to me each morning across from our terrace. (by "each morning" of course I mean "each afternoon.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sights
If you can't be here, here's what you're missing - a few random sightings:
Flower Shop:
One of my fave places to have a coffee:
Little French boys already being opinionated and charming:
"Here it's like your home but better":
I have to find out what this cinema is, and go see something!
Another charming "Passage":
... with cute florist.
Flower Shop:
One of my fave places to have a coffee:
Little French boys already being opinionated and charming:
"Here it's like your home but better":
I have to find out what this cinema is, and go see something!
Another charming "Passage":
... with cute florist.
Mail Love/Love Mail
I love, love, love getting mail - a little surprise awaiting you when you get home can really brighten your day and make you feel special.
I've gotten postcards from my wonderful friends all over the world, and even a book and 2 bottles of Red Devil from my dad with instructions on how to make his famous hot chicken.
Imagine my delight when the postman knocked on my door with this little piece of magic!
A lovely weekly/daily journal from my friend Carrie all the way over in Australia! I have an awesome wall calendar from my brother that keeps me in perspective by month, but this is just the thing to keep me focused on weekly activities for my new endeavor.
Merci Carrie!!
I've gotten postcards from my wonderful friends all over the world, and even a book and 2 bottles of Red Devil from my dad with instructions on how to make his famous hot chicken.
Imagine my delight when the postman knocked on my door with this little piece of magic!
A lovely weekly/daily journal from my friend Carrie all the way over in Australia! I have an awesome wall calendar from my brother that keeps me in perspective by month, but this is just the thing to keep me focused on weekly activities for my new endeavor.
Merci Carrie!!
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Jour du Macaron
March 20th - the greatest day ever. Not just because the sun was shining bright, or because it was the first day of spring and it showed. No no... it was also Jour du Macaron, a day when dozens of pâtisseries all over Paris (and New York!) gave away free macarons (or at least for a few pennies' donation).
The night before, like a kid the night before Easter, I mapped out my plan of attack. I knew which places to go to, what was ranked best, and how to efficiently hit as many spots as I could.
Not only did I satisfy my taste buds, I was also able to use up all those little 2-cent pieces for which I never have a use.
I began with Pierre Hermé and Jean-Paul Hévin near the Louvre, two places ranked Paris' best by the fabulous blog Paris By Mouth.
I thought that from all the blog buzz about Jour du Macaron and with it being a free event and all, the shops would be crazy with people, but in fact I was never further than fourth in line all day.
From Pierre Hermé I got the Ispahan, a lovely little red number of rose, lychee and raspberry flavors, complete with gold and red flecks on top.
It was delicious, and I can never deny the light-headedly lovely feeling that comes with the flavor of rose. But for me, this mac was a little heavy on the crème and not chewy enough for my tastes. Call me a snob, but I require a certain amount of bite in my cookie.
On next to Jean-Paul Hévin, who gave me a choice of THREE macs for one donation!
Actually, they chose the first one (I never caught the name) and then I chose a nutty pistachio and the citron-in, which nearly did me in with its delicate and bright flavor, like a tiny, chewy key lime pie.
UGH. SO GOOD.
As I emerged from the Métro and made my way to Galeries Lafayette, I caught this piano player, with his piano, no big deal, just playing a tune on Boulvard Haussman.
Why bother being inside when you can play outside?
Galeries Lafayette let me down a bit (but not enough to break my spirit!). First I couldn't find Sadaharu Aoki, and then Ladurée, the most famous macaron maker in the world, told me they were not participating. EXCUSEZ-MOI?
Whatever! I had better tastes to try out anyway, like one I'd instantly regretted not getting at Pierre Hermé, which serendipitously also has a shop in Galeries Lafayette. So up I went.
It was... OMG... wait for it... chocolat foie gras.
Does that sound wrong to you? Or does it sound so perfectly right that you wish you'd thought of it? I ate it outside in the sun, and I swear I was spinning in circles... I literally kept turning in different directions, walking nowhere, just mind-blown from this little miracle of salty sweetness. It was so complicated.
My LORD. I didn't think I'd ever get over it. But I still had work to do. I went up to Montmartre and couldn't locate one of the locations on my list, so I hiked up the hill and made it over to the next place, Arnaud Larher on rue Caulaincourt, not far from my apartment. There was only one other person there!
I asked the guy working there which one was the best. He laughed and said in French, "There's too many." I selected one and as I was leaving, he implored me to try one of the samples. I squealed a little too loudly, loudly enough for him to laugh at me. This little guy, the mandarine mangue, a combination of orange and mango that was so delicate and bright it was like eating the sun itself.
But the macaron of the day, maybe of my life, was yet to come. I didn't realize I'd saved the best for last. But it was. Behold... the absinthe.
It's like a prize. Dark silver on the outside, dark purple on the inside, this may be the only gray-hued thing I've ever loved. The flavor was incredible, complicated, layered, sweet but not too sweet, the perfect amount of chewy resistance... indescribable, I must say, because all I remember about it is that I almost cried when I ate it.
It was perfection. I don't remember ever being so fleetingly happy from something so simple. After that, I went home and had a coffee, and after that I was positively vibrating from all the sugar plus caffeine. It's not often that I feel the opposite of a blood sugar drop, but yesterday afternoon it was positively worth it!
The night before, like a kid the night before Easter, I mapped out my plan of attack. I knew which places to go to, what was ranked best, and how to efficiently hit as many spots as I could.
Not only did I satisfy my taste buds, I was also able to use up all those little 2-cent pieces for which I never have a use.
I began with Pierre Hermé and Jean-Paul Hévin near the Louvre, two places ranked Paris' best by the fabulous blog Paris By Mouth.
I thought that from all the blog buzz about Jour du Macaron and with it being a free event and all, the shops would be crazy with people, but in fact I was never further than fourth in line all day.
From Pierre Hermé I got the Ispahan, a lovely little red number of rose, lychee and raspberry flavors, complete with gold and red flecks on top.
It was delicious, and I can never deny the light-headedly lovely feeling that comes with the flavor of rose. But for me, this mac was a little heavy on the crème and not chewy enough for my tastes. Call me a snob, but I require a certain amount of bite in my cookie.
On next to Jean-Paul Hévin, who gave me a choice of THREE macs for one donation!
Actually, they chose the first one (I never caught the name) and then I chose a nutty pistachio and the citron-in, which nearly did me in with its delicate and bright flavor, like a tiny, chewy key lime pie.
UGH. SO GOOD.
As I emerged from the Métro and made my way to Galeries Lafayette, I caught this piano player, with his piano, no big deal, just playing a tune on Boulvard Haussman.
Why bother being inside when you can play outside?
Galeries Lafayette let me down a bit (but not enough to break my spirit!). First I couldn't find Sadaharu Aoki, and then Ladurée, the most famous macaron maker in the world, told me they were not participating. EXCUSEZ-MOI?
Whatever! I had better tastes to try out anyway, like one I'd instantly regretted not getting at Pierre Hermé, which serendipitously also has a shop in Galeries Lafayette. So up I went.
It was... OMG... wait for it... chocolat foie gras.
Does that sound wrong to you? Or does it sound so perfectly right that you wish you'd thought of it? I ate it outside in the sun, and I swear I was spinning in circles... I literally kept turning in different directions, walking nowhere, just mind-blown from this little miracle of salty sweetness. It was so complicated.
My LORD. I didn't think I'd ever get over it. But I still had work to do. I went up to Montmartre and couldn't locate one of the locations on my list, so I hiked up the hill and made it over to the next place, Arnaud Larher on rue Caulaincourt, not far from my apartment. There was only one other person there!
I asked the guy working there which one was the best. He laughed and said in French, "There's too many." I selected one and as I was leaving, he implored me to try one of the samples. I squealed a little too loudly, loudly enough for him to laugh at me. This little guy, the mandarine mangue, a combination of orange and mango that was so delicate and bright it was like eating the sun itself.
But the macaron of the day, maybe of my life, was yet to come. I didn't realize I'd saved the best for last. But it was. Behold... the absinthe.
It's like a prize. Dark silver on the outside, dark purple on the inside, this may be the only gray-hued thing I've ever loved. The flavor was incredible, complicated, layered, sweet but not too sweet, the perfect amount of chewy resistance... indescribable, I must say, because all I remember about it is that I almost cried when I ate it.
It was perfection. I don't remember ever being so fleetingly happy from something so simple. After that, I went home and had a coffee, and after that I was positively vibrating from all the sugar plus caffeine. It's not often that I feel the opposite of a blood sugar drop, but yesterday afternoon it was positively worth it!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Magic Hour
Every city has its magic hour. As the weather warms up in Paris, I'm enjoying 5:30pm.
Between 5:30 and 7pm, the city is awash in a golden glow fit for dreamers, lovers, poets.
This couple didn't even know I existed.
This is the time of year when the cafés open up their outdoor seating, remove the rain shields and let their customers sit practically in the street, enjoying the sun.
Glow on, Paris.
Between 5:30 and 7pm, the city is awash in a golden glow fit for dreamers, lovers, poets.
This couple didn't even know I existed.
This is the time of year when the cafés open up their outdoor seating, remove the rain shields and let their customers sit practically in the street, enjoying the sun.
Glow on, Paris.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Violin Party
Last week I went to a cool little party on Blvd. Saint Germain.
It was filled with artists, writers, and musicians from all over the world.
I met a poet from Greece, an art historian from Russia, a viola player from Vancouver, and several painters from England.
It was kind of a private concert from jazz violinist Mario Forte and his fellow violin player (whose name I never caught).
After we all chatted and got to know each other over some glasses of wine, everyone sat down, the guys sat on the floor and began their performance.
As they played, Mario recorded some of their notes and layered them over each other with a portable audio board.
A very cool and inspiring performance.
It was filled with artists, writers, and musicians from all over the world.
I met a poet from Greece, an art historian from Russia, a viola player from Vancouver, and several painters from England.
It was kind of a private concert from jazz violinist Mario Forte and his fellow violin player (whose name I never caught).
After we all chatted and got to know each other over some glasses of wine, everyone sat down, the guys sat on the floor and began their performance.
As they played, Mario recorded some of their notes and layered them over each other with a portable audio board.
A very cool and inspiring performance.
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