Some three weeks have passed since we returned from our Italian adventure; flying into Venice, we then took a train to Florence, and a subsequent train to Rome. It was a hell of a trip, and, as usual, I took a probably-ridiculous number of pictures (a thorough purge brought this number to just north of …
I burned a day of PTO on Tuesday (I already had Wednesday off on account of it being Toussaint) and indulged in one of my ongoing obsessions; I returned to la basilique cathédrale de Saint-Denis. While it is true that I had entirely intended to go back, hoping to perhaps take advantage of some of the new …
In non-Marco-related news, we headed to the salon de l’agriculture this past Sunday. I’m not sure what made this year unique (perhaps the complete absence of fowl, owing to the H5N8 avian flu strain that’s resulting in mass culling in various regions), but it felt less like fun and more like a slog. I did not: give …
Due to my partner in crime’s absence, I am unable to attest to the entertainment to be had at any of the many balls; playing dress-up isn’t any fun alone. This isn’t to say that one couldn’t tell that we were in the midst of carnevale; in addition to the surprising number of adults in …
This is the story of a joke that went too far. And scope creep. But the root cause analysis would probably point towards that joke gone awry. In the beginning there was a lion. Orange, with a sparkly nose, and stout-though-satiny wings, we acquired Marco when we visited Venice in November. Subsequent to the lion, …
I like Malta quite a bit, but I couldn’t tell you why. It suffers from most of the problems that seem to come along with being an ex-British isle (traffic flows on the wrong side, roads are poorly laid out, large portions of the island bear a strong resemblance to a garbage dump, an obvious …
Walking through the oppressive, heavy fog in La défense this morning (which, unsurprisingly, does not photograph particularly well), I found myself giving in to a creeping feeling of sadness; sadness that the very welcome period of rest was over, sadness that my stint of lazy days with the Purrito was now very much at an …
The weekend before last’s trip to Brussels (yes, I am behind) for their version of the marché de noël featured a significant amount of wandering, the consumption of copious quantities of hardly-healthy food that still somehow was tailored to each of our dietary needs (read: the Purrito tackled the sausages while I consumed an unholy number …
Unlike Florence, which was long on boobs, Venice was short on boobs and long on lions; this is hardly surprising when one considers that the Lion of Saint-Mark was the symbol of the city. It’s also an excuse for another gallery, so here we go.
From our jaunt to the auto show yesterday:
Fezzik In Paris 