No time for words

Coming up with "the words" is the super hard part of writing a blog.  It takes time and concentration (and usually some kind of miracle).  Lucien's on break from school for two weeks and Coco's still hanging around, too, so time and concentration are two things in short supply (along with patience, showers, and anything resembling a snackfood).

Thankfully, uploading a bunch of photos and slapping half-assed captions on them takes no thought, effort, or creativity whatsoever.

So here they come. 

We spent this past weekend with our children, which is out of character for us lately, I know.  We are apparently still vulnerable to their charms.  I announced Sunday morning we were going to walk to the Place des Vosges because there was a photography exhibit there I wanted to see.  The family eyed me warily and asked how much walking was involved, exactly, and I said DON'T ASK QUESTIONS PUNKS to distract them from the fact it's a lot, a lot of walking.  

After about five minutes of walking, Lucien and Alex complained it was too much walking, so I stuffed them into a small cage as punishment for not respecting my authority.

I joke.  I'm actually a kind and gentle leader. This was just Loosh and Al checking out a rooster as we passed through the bird market on Île de la Cité.  I've never seen anyone buy a rooster on Île de la Cité on a Sunday morning, but the gypsies still show up with their sad-looking animals every weekend.  They probably cook what's left at the end of the day.  I'm not sure whether or not what I just said is offensive, but I can definitely tell you it's probably not true. 

Wow, this is going to be a long two weeks. 

The photography exhibit at Place des Vosges is called "Paris, Avant-Après."  It compares fifty photos taken in Paris in 1860 with photos taken at the same spot today. (here's info about the book upon which the exhibit is based, courtesy of Invisible Paris) 

Guess what?  Stuff has changed.

Here's Notre Dame.  The top view is, of course, the view we know and love today.  The bottom view is Notre Dame behind a really ugly building.  Score one for the newbies!  2011, huzzah. 

 

Here's the rue de Rennes, right here in the 6th arrondissement.  The bottom photo is old picturesque rue de Rennes.  The top photo is rue de Rennes meets Stanley Kubrick.  Oh, le Tour Montparnasse, I appreciate the view from your tallness, but you are ugly.  This round goes to the old folks. 

I forget where this one is, but look, water turned into street!  It's a 2011 miracle. 

This one is Place d'Italie, where Alex and I went last weekend for the Chinese New Year's Parade.  The top one says, "Yeah, Chinese people!  Dragons!"  The bottom one says, "Chinese people?  Chinese people?" 

After the exhibit we went to a cafe.  It was actually Le Café-Théâtre de la Magie (The Cafe-Theatre of Magic!) which is a cafe/bar full of servers who are also magicians, and a theater that puts on regular magic shows.  Our server knew many tricks and dazzled Lucien with a few.  It was sweet and almost made up for the fact we paid 18 euros for a beer, a glass of wine, and an orange juice.  Almost.  Actually, not at all, give us our money back, magic man.

Then we learned something important.  If you stick Lucien on a Velib rental bike and tell him to ring the bell all the way home, people will get out of your way and you can sail through the crowds.  It's so beautiful.

We stopped to pay our respects at these blue doors on Ile St. Louis.  This is where Camille's namesake, Camille Claudel, lived and worked during her most prolific years.  The plaque outside says something beautiful about this being the building where her short career as an artist ended, and the "long night of her internment" began.  Usually when I walk past these doors, I touch them.  Once I tried hugging them but hugging doors is hard.  Passersby probably thought I was due for a long night of internment myself. 

 Sooo... let me get this straight.  You guys named me after a woman who spent thirty years in a mental institution?  Well that's just fantastic, guys, really.

We passed this guy doing bike tricks on the Pont Saint Louis.  That's what I love about wandering Paris on a Sunday afternoon.  You may not wake up and think, "I'd like to see some bike tricks today" but when you stumble across a guy doing just that, you think, "Yes. This is what I want and need."

Alex rode the bike next to Notre Dame while Lucien ran beside him.  It's easy to spot the Loosh in the crowd because we are still some of the few people in Paris wearing red.   

 We stopped to listen to some musicians who weren't very good but meh, we had nothing better to do.

I'm pretty sure I'll miss this when we leave.  There's nothing like wandering around a city where interesting people are doing semi-interesting things on every corner.  It won't be the same when we take Sunday strolls around our neighborhood in Seattle.  I envision those walks going something like this:  "Oh, for Christ's sake, it's just another guy mowing his lawn?  Hey, buddy, where are the bike tricks?  Oh, you say you don't know what I'm talking about? I SAID GET ON YOUR BIKE.  At least go get a guitar and sing me something, you worthless neighbor."

I took Lucien out for hot chocolate today.  He spilled it everywhere in spectacular fashion.  The mug didn't look very big, yet it somehow contained an ocean of hot chocolate.  When the waiter saw what happened, he made a face that clearly said we are horrible, miserable people.  I apologized when he came over with some towels and he muttered, "pas grave, Madame, pas grave..." but I could tell by his face he thought it was VERY, VERY grave.  You can't fool me, Frenchies.  I know you better than you know yourselves.

All right, all right.  Enough is enough.  Gotta go, the kids are about to turn on me.
MJ