DATELINE: 26.02.09 ROME, ITALY
Early this morning I arrived in Rome to spend 10 days soaking up some sun and visiting my brother. I admit, it feels very cool to say 'oh just popping off to Rome for a spell to visit my brother.' =) hot.
Thinking it would be a good way to maximize my visit, and given the option of two tickets costing the same, I chose the flight that left Paris at 7am and arrived in Rome at 9am. I stand by my original thinking that this was a good idea, but man I am hella-tired. I'm so far beyond tired that I actually feel hyper.
In order to get to the airport in time for check-in and to make it through security and to my gate on time, I had to be en route by 5am, to arrive at Aeroport d'Orly by 6am. In order for this all to actually be successful, I left my apartment at 4:45am. Which meant I had to wake up by 3:45am so that there was time eat, get my head on straight, and to make sure everything was in order, that I was not forgetting anything, that all the burners and lights were off, etc.
It is now noon and I have been awake since 3:40am this morning. My brain somehow manages to continue functioning, but my body is asleep. I was so anxious about getting up on time and getting to the airport, etc, that I hardly slept at all last night. To boot, I made potatoes for dinner last night and thus everything in my apartment smelled liked potatoes all night long, making me both unable to sleep and hungry - at some point I did manage to catch a little sleep, to the lullaby of my grumbling stomach. Today, still for the entire flight all I smelled was potatoes. Damed potatoes.
And now, with the phantom smell of potatoes still clogging my nose, I am off to take a nap of sorts on the sun drenched terrace. brilliant. Terraces should be required on all apartments everywhere.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
a kilo of dates
DATELINE: 20.02.09 PARIS, FRANCE
Newsflash! Small pasty-white girl braves Barbes market, spends €13 and comes home with more than she can carry. Kicks self in arse upon return home when reminded that it all has to be hauled up 6 flights of stairs. Feels guilty that she can only name the origin of the oranges she purchased, has no idea where the rest of it came from.
Is said to be doling out dates (the dried fruit variety) to anyone who will accept them after having realized that a kilo of dates is A LOT of dates (but for €2, who could resist!).
----
The Barbes market, which is the outdoor market not far from where I now live, is the Haymarket of Paris's outdoor markets. Things are super cheap, but it's SUPER crowded, muddy, and the food doesn't look quite as good. So, I am unlikely to make Barbes my regular market. The markets in general are cheaper than the grocery stores, and the other ones seem to have more of the good food, local food.
I'm off to Rome in a few days for spring break. I'm really excited. WOOOO spring break! I should have planned ahead more though, because this is not a cheap ticket. But it's less than it would cost me from the states, so whatever. There is going to be a festival, and some playing at "the country house", and maybe a day trip to where they filmed Passion of the Christ (could care less about the movie, but the place it was filmed is supposedly really cool). On my to-do list: bring home a bottle of Limoncello. Maybe two. =)
Alright, time to head back to my tiny little pad and get some lunch.
Photos to come soon, I promise!
A la prochaine fois!
Newsflash! Small pasty-white girl braves Barbes market, spends €13 and comes home with more than she can carry. Kicks self in arse upon return home when reminded that it all has to be hauled up 6 flights of stairs. Feels guilty that she can only name the origin of the oranges she purchased, has no idea where the rest of it came from.
Is said to be doling out dates (the dried fruit variety) to anyone who will accept them after having realized that a kilo of dates is A LOT of dates (but for €2, who could resist!).
----
The Barbes market, which is the outdoor market not far from where I now live, is the Haymarket of Paris's outdoor markets. Things are super cheap, but it's SUPER crowded, muddy, and the food doesn't look quite as good. So, I am unlikely to make Barbes my regular market. The markets in general are cheaper than the grocery stores, and the other ones seem to have more of the good food, local food.
I'm off to Rome in a few days for spring break. I'm really excited. WOOOO spring break! I should have planned ahead more though, because this is not a cheap ticket. But it's less than it would cost me from the states, so whatever. There is going to be a festival, and some playing at "the country house", and maybe a day trip to where they filmed Passion of the Christ (could care less about the movie, but the place it was filmed is supposedly really cool). On my to-do list: bring home a bottle of Limoncello. Maybe two. =)
Alright, time to head back to my tiny little pad and get some lunch.
Photos to come soon, I promise!
A la prochaine fois!
Monday, February 16, 2009
Home, Sweet home.
DATELINE: 16.02.09 PARIS, FRANCE
All moved into the new pad and so happy. It of course has it's short comings but they are all part of the character. =) I'll post the pictures soon. I took some this morning but forgot to load them onto my computer before leaving the house. I don't have internet at home yet - so these may be a little slow in coming.
I will note, though, that as my studio faces the courtyard in the center of the building I am oblivious to what happens over night on the street. This morning I left the apt to find that the shop a few doors down was all shot up - the window was peppered with what look to me like bullet holes. The neighborhood is, by all means, safe. But I must have missed something big last night. Or maybe it's been like that for a while and I just hadn't noticed.
At the moment I am sitting back at Le Cactus. It is way out of my way, but I like the guys here and like to visit. Today seems to be not a good day for visiting... or maybe it is just because I am clamming up feeling shy today. Damned shy gene!
a la procheine (not sure i spelled that right...) mes amies!
All moved into the new pad and so happy. It of course has it's short comings but they are all part of the character. =) I'll post the pictures soon. I took some this morning but forgot to load them onto my computer before leaving the house. I don't have internet at home yet - so these may be a little slow in coming.
I will note, though, that as my studio faces the courtyard in the center of the building I am oblivious to what happens over night on the street. This morning I left the apt to find that the shop a few doors down was all shot up - the window was peppered with what look to me like bullet holes. The neighborhood is, by all means, safe. But I must have missed something big last night. Or maybe it's been like that for a while and I just hadn't noticed.
At the moment I am sitting back at Le Cactus. It is way out of my way, but I like the guys here and like to visit. Today seems to be not a good day for visiting... or maybe it is just because I am clamming up feeling shy today. Damned shy gene!
a la procheine (not sure i spelled that right...) mes amies!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Looking up & the hippy-jiggy-boogy (it's a long one...)
DATELINE: 14.02.09 PARIS, FRANCE
I'm free! I'M FREE!!! Yes freeeeeeeedom has beeeeeeeecome a reality!!
I'm done with the crazy lady. I moved out this morning. The departure was ugly. She is a nasty nasty lady. I'm so glad to not be living there anymore. I'm trying to tap into my yoga peace loving self and resist the urge to do something vindictive and nasty to her.
I had thought telling her I was moving out had gone fairly well and would be fairly amicable. But then suddenly she got nasty nasty nasty. She decided I'd lied to her about money (to be fair, as I may have said before, I had avoided paying her the rent when I first moved in because she wasn't delivering on the things she had said were part of the rent... ie: a bed, and internet). Then she somehow decided that I was going to steal her house while she wasn't looking.
I woke up on Friday morning to find a note asking me to leave on Saturday morning (today) - while I had paid her for two weeks and she had already agreed to my leaving on Sunday late afternoon. I can't move into the new place until tomorrow afternoon, otherwise I gladly would have left sooner. I was out last night at a concert (more about that in a moment) and didn't get back to the apt until 10:30 this morning.
I arrived to find all of my food taken out of the refrigerator and put in a trash bag in the hall. Nasty nasty witchy lady. I packed up all my belongings. She stood by the door as I headed out and when she requested the key, I requested the two days of rent back - since she was kicking me out two days early. She started shouting that I had lied to her about money, that she had paid for the internet, and that in the states you pay on the first day of the month. I retorted that we are not in the states and that she had lied about what was included in the rent. I threw the keys into the apt and stormed out (yeah, it was not one of my most shining moments, but I was angry). I wish i'd left an egg to rot under the bed. Maybe I'll pull that old college trick of filling the ziplock baggy with some stinky substance and exploding it under the door. ha.
Maybe I'll just indulge in the fantasy of it, because I believe in karma and don't want karma to bite me in the arse. As Gary said: karma and fate are two sisters you don't mess with, because they will cut you!
But I am so relieved to be done with her and so excited to move into my new pad. I've been told that my new landlord actually _thanked_ the friend who referred me to her for referring me. Can you believe the difference? Amazing. Anne, my friend who lives two floors below my new home, has already been amazingly hospitable. And her teenage daughter so kind, and seems also fairly enthusiastic about me moving in upstairs. It'll be a bit like having a little sister. =) I can dig it.
Things are really looking up.
So let's talk about the hippy-jiggy-boogy. You know the hippy-jiggy-boogy. It's what happens when there is a band jamming out with some funky good grooves and you just can't help but get up out of your seat and shake your butt and then next thing you know your arms are going and your feet are going and you have to smile. You have to because your whole body is smiling and you are just happy and loving every minute of it. And who cares what you look like because at first maybe you are the only one brave enough to get up and get your groove on but you quickly notice that all the sudden there are tons of people around you doing the same thing. You know they were just itching to do it but needed someone to give them permission. You are having a great time, the music is great, you're shakin' yo' thang, and loving that you could be the person to give them the permission to break out and shake it! That's the hippy-jiggy-boogy. But I don't know how to say that in French...
Last night I went to a concert with Dené & Jacob in one of the burbs of Paris, an area called Cretiel. The venue is called the Maison des Arts. The venue was really cool, really attractive with a large stone plaza in front (kind of like the Met in NYC has - but larger). The area around the venue, really awful. It's concrete everywhere. It feels like an industrial wasteland - that is, what we saw between the metro and the venue. The entire distance between the two can be traversed without ever touching ground. You pass through the second level of a large shopping mall. It leaves you feeling rather gross.
The concert was Saul Williams, opening band was Anthony Joseph & the Spasm Band (from Trinidad). It was a great show. I was kicking myself much of the time because I had left my camera at home, assuming that like concerts in the States we would be frisked before going in and without a bag to stash my camera in (didn't want to bring my bag) they wouldn't let me in or it would get confiscated - something like that. That may have been a slightly irrational assumption, but in any case I thought it best to simply not bring it.
I also didn't imagine that I would get close enough to take any worth while pics. Well... as it turned out they don't frisk you or even seem to check bags, and I spent the whole show shakin' my butt right at the edge of the stage, front and center! I could have kissed Saul Williams' feet, many many times over. I could have pulled his pants down if I were taller. I could have groped his crotch if I actually felt like getting kicked in the head. The spot where we were was unbelievable. I haven't had a spot that good since I shot for PFC in Denver. Everyone on either side of me was shooting and filming, and by that point security had utterly abandoned any hope of stopping them so wasn't even bothering them. Sigh...
It was a fantastic show and was *just* what the doctor ordered. Thanks, Dené, for putting the idea in my head and inviting me!!
I'm free! I'M FREE!!! Yes freeeeeeeedom has beeeeeeeecome a reality!!
I'm done with the crazy lady. I moved out this morning. The departure was ugly. She is a nasty nasty lady. I'm so glad to not be living there anymore. I'm trying to tap into my yoga peace loving self and resist the urge to do something vindictive and nasty to her.
I had thought telling her I was moving out had gone fairly well and would be fairly amicable. But then suddenly she got nasty nasty nasty. She decided I'd lied to her about money (to be fair, as I may have said before, I had avoided paying her the rent when I first moved in because she wasn't delivering on the things she had said were part of the rent... ie: a bed, and internet). Then she somehow decided that I was going to steal her house while she wasn't looking.
I woke up on Friday morning to find a note asking me to leave on Saturday morning (today) - while I had paid her for two weeks and she had already agreed to my leaving on Sunday late afternoon. I can't move into the new place until tomorrow afternoon, otherwise I gladly would have left sooner. I was out last night at a concert (more about that in a moment) and didn't get back to the apt until 10:30 this morning.
I arrived to find all of my food taken out of the refrigerator and put in a trash bag in the hall. Nasty nasty witchy lady. I packed up all my belongings. She stood by the door as I headed out and when she requested the key, I requested the two days of rent back - since she was kicking me out two days early. She started shouting that I had lied to her about money, that she had paid for the internet, and that in the states you pay on the first day of the month. I retorted that we are not in the states and that she had lied about what was included in the rent. I threw the keys into the apt and stormed out (yeah, it was not one of my most shining moments, but I was angry). I wish i'd left an egg to rot under the bed. Maybe I'll pull that old college trick of filling the ziplock baggy with some stinky substance and exploding it under the door. ha.
Maybe I'll just indulge in the fantasy of it, because I believe in karma and don't want karma to bite me in the arse. As Gary said: karma and fate are two sisters you don't mess with, because they will cut you!
But I am so relieved to be done with her and so excited to move into my new pad. I've been told that my new landlord actually _thanked_ the friend who referred me to her for referring me. Can you believe the difference? Amazing. Anne, my friend who lives two floors below my new home, has already been amazingly hospitable. And her teenage daughter so kind, and seems also fairly enthusiastic about me moving in upstairs. It'll be a bit like having a little sister. =) I can dig it.
Things are really looking up.
So let's talk about the hippy-jiggy-boogy. You know the hippy-jiggy-boogy. It's what happens when there is a band jamming out with some funky good grooves and you just can't help but get up out of your seat and shake your butt and then next thing you know your arms are going and your feet are going and you have to smile. You have to because your whole body is smiling and you are just happy and loving every minute of it. And who cares what you look like because at first maybe you are the only one brave enough to get up and get your groove on but you quickly notice that all the sudden there are tons of people around you doing the same thing. You know they were just itching to do it but needed someone to give them permission. You are having a great time, the music is great, you're shakin' yo' thang, and loving that you could be the person to give them the permission to break out and shake it! That's the hippy-jiggy-boogy. But I don't know how to say that in French...
Last night I went to a concert with Dené & Jacob in one of the burbs of Paris, an area called Cretiel. The venue is called the Maison des Arts. The venue was really cool, really attractive with a large stone plaza in front (kind of like the Met in NYC has - but larger). The area around the venue, really awful. It's concrete everywhere. It feels like an industrial wasteland - that is, what we saw between the metro and the venue. The entire distance between the two can be traversed without ever touching ground. You pass through the second level of a large shopping mall. It leaves you feeling rather gross.
The concert was Saul Williams, opening band was Anthony Joseph & the Spasm Band (from Trinidad). It was a great show. I was kicking myself much of the time because I had left my camera at home, assuming that like concerts in the States we would be frisked before going in and without a bag to stash my camera in (didn't want to bring my bag) they wouldn't let me in or it would get confiscated - something like that. That may have been a slightly irrational assumption, but in any case I thought it best to simply not bring it.
I also didn't imagine that I would get close enough to take any worth while pics. Well... as it turned out they don't frisk you or even seem to check bags, and I spent the whole show shakin' my butt right at the edge of the stage, front and center! I could have kissed Saul Williams' feet, many many times over. I could have pulled his pants down if I were taller. I could have groped his crotch if I actually felt like getting kicked in the head. The spot where we were was unbelievable. I haven't had a spot that good since I shot for PFC in Denver. Everyone on either side of me was shooting and filming, and by that point security had utterly abandoned any hope of stopping them so wasn't even bothering them. Sigh...
It was a fantastic show and was *just* what the doctor ordered. Thanks, Dené, for putting the idea in my head and inviting me!!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
What are people really looking for... ?
DATELINE: 12.02.09 PARIS, FRANCE
Behind Single wall mounting shelves
you un-Folded, all dressed in G-reen
we sat on a Cafe table
with your Hair dryer
Dying to see your crack...
for ...-----------------------NNNON NO NON NO - STOP
STOP!
it wasnt meant to sound like that AT ALL
sorry...let me try once more :
Behind the wall mounted shelves
you un-Folded
dressed in G-reen
I'd met you in a Cafe
sat round the same table
with your Hair dryed in Black
I had to feel a ...?
You showed me the way under the Duvet
in your Single size futon mattress
but I had flatulence
and was feeling kinda stress-ed
CHORUS E A A E Em
why don't we fly with my
house-plants-Espresso-machine or stovetop-espresso-maker
on folding chairs ...Beneath the waves...of Menilmuche...
oh Christ...
it's appalling...five minutes ago I just wrote this ONE big future hit...now I can't seem to renew the effort...
HELP ME...
folding-chairs should rhyme with stairs of hairs...uuuh!
God Bless America!
OK, so this morning I went onto the Paris Craigslist in hopes of finding some items that I feel the studio I am moving into could really use. Rather, that I could really use while in the apt. Of course, being there for only a matter of months, I don't want to buy things if I don't have to. To the Items Wanted section I posted a request, and a list of the items I am looking for (things like a hair dryer, a folding room screen, folding chairs..). This evening, I received the following response, and really just have to share it.
Enjoy.
----------
Behind Single wall mounting shelves
you un-Folded, all dressed in G-reen
we sat on a Cafe table
with your Hair dryer
Dying to see your crack...
for ...-----------------------NNNON NO NON NO - STOP
STOP!
it wasnt meant to sound like that AT ALL
sorry...let me try once more :
Behind the wall mounted shelves
you un-Folded
dressed in G-reen
I'd met you in a Cafe
sat round the same table
with your Hair dryed in Black
I had to feel a ...?
You showed me the way under the Duvet
in your Single size futon mattress
but I had flatulence
and was feeling kinda stress-ed
CHORUS E A A E Em
why don't we fly with my
house-plants-Espresso-machine or stovetop-espresso-maker
on folding chairs ...Beneath the waves...of Menilmuche...
oh Christ...
it's appalling...five minutes ago I just wrote this ONE big future hit...now I can't seem to renew the effort...
HELP ME...
folding-chairs should rhyme with stairs of hairs...uuuh!
God Bless America!
J'habite a Paris, en France
DATELINE: 12.02.09 PARIS, FRANCE
Slowly, very slowly, high school french is coming back to me - with the help of Rosetta Stone. I'm far from conversational but I am working on it.
So the big news is that I am moving again!! This sunday. I'm actually quite excited. I am moving into a *small* studio apartment, on the 6th floor (that is up 7 flights), sans ascensor. My legs are going to be super-fly after 5 months of those stairs! I'll also have to learn to not forget things when I leave the house.
The apartment is small, but is really "just enough". Small kitchen (sadly, no oven), small bath (with the toilet inside the apt!!) and shower with a small bathtub. Small bed. BIG window overlooking the courtyard and another in the kitchen opening skyward. The bed is still essentially child sized but is actually appropriate for this space and at this price, it's acceptable. The space is so cute... It's really so terribly French it's a bit amazing.
The neighborhood is great - really active, full of people, and great stuff. Good cafes, little markets all over the place, grocery store on the corner a block down, and only a 15 minute walk from the royal Opera house. As I was exploring the neighborhood two things caught my eye and I took them to be good omens about my new apt (and it turned out, rightly so!): about 5 doors down is the largest pro photo supply shop in Paris. It's huge (for a Parisian store)! A few stops before that, I think it was maybe one block further away from my building, is a buddhist meditation center. Ahhhhhh... home.
To top it off, my new landlady is a profession photographer who has been shooting solely for the French professional theater for the last 30 years. Seriously? The fates did not have to hit me over the head - clearly, this is the place I am supposed to be! She owns the apartment on the floor below the studio I will be renting, but uses it only as her office so is never there at night - so if I feel like I want to dance a jig in my undies at midnight, not a problem! ;) I'll be able to use her washing machine during the day if I need to (thank god... can you imagine hauling laundry up and down 7 flights of stairs??), and maybe I'll be able to use her oven to bake in sometimes. If not, on the floor below her is my friend Anne and her daughter Rosa. I'm looking forward to joining then for episodes of Lost on DVD, along with other such indulgences. I am going to bribe them with fresh cookies so that I can use the oven sometimes... =)
I've been trying to draw more since I got here. Been shooting some too, mostly with my Lumix p&s cam, but have been inspired to try to do more drawing. I'm convinced that it will make my photos better. Drawing, specifically drawing people, has always been really challenging for me. I'm always trying to make my drawings look like what I see and to be really detailed and lively - like the work of my friends and older brother who are much better than I am. I get caught up in that - trying to make it perfect. So I've forced myself to draw what there is no time to perfect - people on the subway or in cafes. Drawing them without them noticing is a challenge to be sure. It generally means I have only a few minutes to work in, and I can't stare at them to try to get things just right. Somehow this combination seems to be serving me well. I'm happy with a few of the drawings I did yesterday. Happy with a sketch I did of the broken remains of a statue in St. Germain de Pres. It's a good feeling. I admittedly am also getting a kick out of what a spectacle I become for people who notice I am drawing. Through it, I've also noticed that big hats are still very popular among a certain age group of Parisian women. =)
Speaking of - tonight I saw a hair coat. Not a fur coat. No. Literally, a hair coat. I think this woman skinned a yak to make this coat. She was very proud, fluttering around on tiny little shoes and wearing the most obscene coat... she looked like a caricature. Amazing.
I leave you to picture me rockin' out in my undies in a tiny studio apt at the very top of an old french building, and to picture a women in her tiny shoes and enormous shaggy coat of yak hair....
Son manteau de cheveux.
a tout la monde de Paris... A plus!
Monday, February 9, 2009
oh wait...
(a thought to add to 10.02.09)
Oh wait a minute... it just occured to me...
who gives a crap about this stupid biz with my housing drama! I'M IN F*IN PARIS!!
HOLY SHITE! I LIVE IN PARIS!!
really?? really? I mean that?
Holy crap! I DO mean that!!
That's freakin' amazing!
hahaha... WOO HOO....hahaha...
FUCK YEAH! I LIVE IN PARIS!!
=D
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