Vive la France

So today was my day off as it is Bastille Day or (Freedom from Tyranny Day) here in Paris, and the rest of France. I was over by the Bastille or its footprint a couple of weeks ago after I bought my bicyclette, and happened upon a communist march/demonstration. It is kind of amazing how little we actually know as a general public in the U.S. about the communist movement here in France. It is just a form of Socialism, plus a little unfairness for those of us who like to work. . . Anyway. I digress.
I was woken up by what seemed to be the invasion. There must have been a series of 10 flybys ended by a put puttering by plane. Quite amazing. I didn't see it but it shook my tiny palace, and the putterer, whatever it was, sounded so tiny. To think that it used to be the height of technology.

After my alarm clock ended (see above) I got dressed and went over to the market to pick up some food for the day. I have gotten into the habit of shopping everyday, a la français.  As soon as I stepped foot in my doorway the deluge. It poured poured poured, a lot like it did a few weeks ago, at least this time I wasn't caught in it. Ahh well I think the rains in Spain seem to fall mostly on the plains of Paris.

So, last night I was on the way home from a movie in a cab, as I am want to do after dark here. And I passed La Tour just as it was going all bright. I love that this flashy sparkly champagne light show started in 2000. So much fun, and it is too magnificent!

Medieval cantina in the stars

Hi. Look at this charming fellow, which is hanging above what seems to be an antique store. This could be one of two things; an antique store where the proprietor is being absolutely honest with the provenance of the articles inside, and what may come along with them, or it is the logo for a Star Wars like cantina. He is absolutely charming and repulsive at the same time, a fellow that I would never want to meet, don't mind looking at him in steel, plus he is talented and plays a double flute like instrument. I just don't want to be around when he eats.

This is what is great about here. This could either be medieval or from the distant future.

So this was the sky the other day, at about 5pm or 17h as the folks around here say. It was beautiful. Look at how high those cumulus clouds, so majestic, so fluffy and white. There might even be some magical creatures living inside. Little did I know that they are harbingers of doom. I woke up the next day to one of the most intense rainstorms I have ever had the pleasure of walking to work through. Yes, I was soaked. But more than that, what astounded me was how absolutely dark it got, exceptionally dark, post gloaming dark, and everything was blue, it was a weird grey pinky yellow green color. Did I say dark, oh yeah. All the cars had to have headlights on in a "I am driving at night" kind of way, not a I am going to be overcautious and extra safe so other drivers see me in this inclement weather kind of way.

What you can't see is the Tour Montparnasse, which should look as if it is at the end of the street, plus you really can't tell how dark it actually is at 8:45 in the morning.

Made in...

On this day, my Parisian 4th of July, I have been thinking, as I am wont to do on days that I do not work, I was thinking about origins, not only of the species, but the origins of things. Today for dinner I bought some groceries to make dinner, which will most likely end up Italian. I have garlic from Argentina, (weird, aren't Italy & Spain just a couple of hours away?) pigeon heart tomatoes from France, pasta from Italy, and snap peas from Kenya, CocaCola from France. Now, I don't know why but the last two just strike me as absolutely bizarre...

Why am I weird-ed out by peas from Kenya? I am sure Kenya is a nice place, but I just can't separate the governmental unrest from how they could possibly handle food. Is that unfair? Needless to say I bought them and will eat them, and they will be magnificent.

So there was that, and then the Coca Cola. I bought it in honor of all things American, as today is Independence Day.  So, it is made in France, which is actually one of the best things ever to happen to Coke this side of the border of Mexico.  There is no corn syrup!!!! It is glorious or should i say GLORIOUS! It tastes so much better. Brown sugary goodness. It is a flavor sensation.  Oh, and here is how to open an 8 pack. I love this efficiency. Using a chef's knife slice down the middle of the carrying carton.

and yes, I would willingly pay a sugar tax on this.

de la Grand Jatte

This is the corner of my building,  acute angle of about 33 degrees & that is the front door all the way on the right.

Apologizes dear George. As I was walking from a re-con mission, I had to take a picture of these folks as they reminded me both of seals sunbathing off somewhere in California, or the  Seurat masterwork that hangs in the Chicago Art Institute. 

Umm, quoi?

Today I had the day off, the first in 5 days, which most might say is normal, but in the world of retail the fifth day is akin to being a guy who instead of pushing the rock up the mountain only to have it roll back down has instead chosen to just let it roll over his head. But, really it isn't that bad. So, on this glorious day which reached a high of 33C, for those of us who aren't in love with temperature that is based on 10 and freezing at zero boiling at 100, it was about 91F, I did laundry. (more on that in a second, perhaps more if you read slowly like me).  In NY this would have been absolutely unbearable. Here, just mildly uncomfortable, but people are freaking out. There are radio reports and hotlines going up making sure that all are safe. This is because of a heatwave that killed a couple hundred folks a couple of years ago. It reached 105F here for about 5 days, and as Paris is on the same Latitude as Montreal, it was kind of a big deal. Compared to NY though it is like nothing. It is warm, and yes even hot, but when the wind blows, you aren't being assaulted by even worse conditions, here the wind blows and one is relieved, a nice breeze too cool you off and blow air on your face. Hmmm, where was I? Oh yes, laundry...

After spending a week folding and prep-ing and getting ready for sale (which is akin to the storming of the Bastille, or at least supposed to be here) I did my laundry, precisely one month's worth. It has been a while, I went away, came back, and then after getting down to my last pair of underwear and having to wear a bathing suit as I had nothing else, I did my laundry. (take a breath, that was a long one) I don't have a washer/dryer here in the Petit Palais, so this means I have to walk up through the tourist trap that is Rue Saint-Louis en Ile, with about 70 pounds of laundry. (don't ask me kilos, I am not quite there yet) The system for the public laundry is bizarro and strange, well actually it turns out to be quite brilliant if not a bit off putting. You walk in and all the machines are on one side, and there is a quaint park bench and some sort of keypad box on the other. Upon inspecting the machines there is no where to put the money. So looking around there is a machine on the wall with instructions written on it in scratched up sharpie. 1. pick the number of your machine (this for some reason is taking me back to gym class and the "dodge ball unit" in Littleton, CO) insert your laundry and detergent, 2. go back to the wall machine, type in the corresponding washing machine's number, wait, wait, its thinking, 3. insert money and then it silently starts. Not so bad, but you have to really look around for instructions, and no one is there, the door is wide open. It is confusing for the french as well, as I helped a woman find her way. It is funny to see people walk in and stop, and stare. Then walk over to one machine, inspect it, walk over to another machine, inspect it, walk to the keypad box, inspect it, and then it dawns on them.