It (for that ever-nebulous definition of “it” which is still better than “they,” I suppose) has been quiet. As a result, I’ve been quiet. The Purrito was gone, and the Purrito returned the Thursday before last. We had plans for that Saturday (what probably would have been a hilariously lame historical thing), but the cold, …
Friday evening found us (finally; the Purrito has wanted to see a film in this theatre for quite a while now) at le Grand rex, for a ciné-concert (read: movie with a live orchestra providing the soundtrack) presentation of the first Pirates des Caraïbes flick. As Pirates isn’t what one would describe as particularly complex from a …
Nearly two weeks later (noticing a trend?) I feel inclined, if not particularly compelled, to muse on this year’s réveillon festivities. In no particular order: Eating before the party (something we didn’t do last year) was a good call (the party progression is champagne pre-game, six courses (each with a wine pairing and with the …
August in Paris has been a cursed month for us for the last two years. The first August we lived here, our key broke in our apartment door three hours before our train to Amsterdam was supposed to leave. In the states, this would not have been a problem, but in Europe, August is the …
From the never-posted archive, because we’ll be there again this year (and sleeping or in the sauna) when this post goes up: I don’t recall what I was searching for, but I was flipping through the pictures on my phone and ran across those that we took on New Year’s Eve. Further to finding the …
Our cascading failure state continued into Tuesday. Yet again we erred by failing to confirm that the museums in which we were interested were indeed open; arriving at Cité de l’architecture et du patrimoine we were (gently, and in slow, clear, French) lectured about national museums being closed on Tuesdays while city museums are closed …
He’s in town for COP21.
Eleven people, three cats, and 49 square meters of apartment space: we’ll see how this goes.
Last Friday’s display of barbarism cast a pall over our trip to Athens, and even now, a week later, I find that my thoughts are still scattered. I like to think that we’ll go back, that we’ll eventually climb the Acropolis again, and that next time, I’ll be armed with scopolamine, so we’ll take a …
Fezzik In Paris 