Welcome to the 21st Century

Saw an Old Pal on the Metro

We keep seeing old friends from America here.  Like the time we saw Mr Clean (Monsieur Propre).  Today I saw an old friend of Susan's in the Metro.  On a billboard.  Funny little guy.  Lives in a Pineapple under the sea.  Wears a funny outfit. His best friend is a starfish.  We call him by a different name in the States.  Here they call him:

Bob L'Eponge

We call him Sponge Bob Square Pants!!

A Floating Bed

Right in the middle of the Tuileries Garden, there are several cafes.  And two of the cafes have little lily ponds next to them.  Very calm, very serene.  Right in the middle of the most densely populated city in Europe. 

Well, we met some friends for coffee one weekend, sat down, and looked across the pond to this. It is a floating bed in the middle of the pond. With diaphanous drapery and satin bedding.  Just floating in the lily pond.   

A Floating Bed

Is this just delightful?  Really evocative.  Like some sort of fairy tale.  Makes you forget about the tin foil heads, the odd sculptures, the strange billboards, and just appreciate the quality of the lifestyle here, and the way the French savor life and beauty.  Oh, yeah, the coffee is pretty damn good too. 

Shepherding My Flock

Funny thing. Was coming back from a day trip to Dusseldorf Germany, and took the RER local train back from the airport.  As I got on the car for the supposed "express" journey back to Paris, a couple of girls (one Australian and one German - traveling together) stuck their heads in and asked in English if this was the train to Paris. I said it was and invited them in. 

Then a Chinese couple in their 30's attempted the same thing, but their English sucked.  No matter, I assured them they were on the right train.  Then an Australian kid in his late teens came in and asked the exact same question.  We all invited him in.  And finally, a very sweet Chinese girl who was educated in the States went through the same rigmarole.  Of course, we took her in and sat her down. 

After that the doors closed and my merry band took off for Paris Gare du Nord and beyond. Since it was an express train that made few stops it should have been pretty quick.  However, this is France, so it pulled out of the station and immediately stopped and turned off the lights for about 12 minutes.  Welcome to Paris.  Express advantage; gone. 

No matter, we all talked about what to do in Paris.  I coached them though the Louvre (only go if you have a week or more in Paris), Montmartre, the Orsay Museum, the Eiffel Tower, all the standard stuff.  I cautioned them against the price of soft drinks in the restaurants and gave them several other important Paris survival tips.  Then we compared notes about who was going where and how to get there. 

It turned out that the Chinese couple, the Chinese girl, and the Australian kid were all headed to RER A at Chatelet Les Halles station, so I put the Australian kid in charge of all the others. He seemed competent, adventurous, and had absolutely no fear.  The two girls needed to get on the same Metro as me, only in the opposite direction, so I told them to follow me when we got to the Gare du Nord.  Which they did.  After making sure they were on the right Metro, my job was done.  The flock safely shepherded through Paris, I then went home.  

More Weird French Sculpture

We went back to the Tuileries, and they still have the tin-foil heads around the pond.  But now they have even better, and even more weird stuff.  And the crowd!  We've never seen so many people there.  Amazing.  The place was packed.  And it was such a beautiful day.  Around 61 and sunny, very slight breeze to keep it fresh.  Wonderful day to sit in the sun.  And we did.

Cymbals

All this sculpture was sponsored by FNAC, the big French department store chain.  The highlight is this totally cool installantion in one of the ponds.  It's a sea of cymbals.  Well, what do you do with cymbals?  You hit them with something.  Since they are out in the middle of the pond, you hit them with the pebbles that are hanging around all over the park.  At all times there is a cymbal being hit. Sometimes well, and sometimes just a glancing blow. Like avant garde percussion.  And the French are funny about it, because they really don't throw like we do:  no baseball or football here. Most of their sports are kicking like soccer or hitting with a racquet like tennis.  But they did okay. We saw a number of boys and girls fist-pumping after their accomplishment.  It was cute.  But by far the cutest was this Father about 42-44, with his little girl.  He hit on his first try, then, grinning ear to ear, he tried to hit it again with a bunch of stones.  We never did see him connect again.  But he was quite proud, anyway.

Crowd

And then there was this thing.  It's scaffolding.  I guess if scaffolding is in the shape of a house it's art.  We didn't get it.

It's Scaffolding

 

The Coin of the Realm

Just back from England, and these folks have got to straighten out their pocket change.  They have way too many different coins: 1 Pence, 2 Pence (Tuppence?), 5 Pence, 10 Pence, 20 Pence, 50 Pence, 1 Pound, and 2 Pounds.

That's bad enough.  But the size and shapes of the coins make absolutely no sense.  Take a look at the picture below.  2 Pence is the big copper one; it's almost as big as the 50 Pence (the big hexagon).  Then the 10 Pence; it's silver colored and bigger than the 20.  Heck, it's as big as the 50 also. Then there is a little hexagonal 20 Pence.  And a tiny little silver colored 5 Pence. 

And the Pound coin weighs about a pound. More like a ton. This stuff below was in my pocket after only 1 DAY IN LONDON!!!!!  It must have weighed 6 or 7 ounces altogether.  Jeez.

Change

A Funny Little Fellow

I was at the ticket window today to buy a round-trip RER ticket to CDG for my trip to Germany next week.  Just being prepared, I guess.

While I was standing there in the middle of my process with the ticket clerk, a little man walked up and leaned on the counter, out of breath.  He started laying stuff out, leaning on the counter the whole while, and sort of crowding the ticket window.  It was apparent he was disabled in some fashion.  But here's the funny part; the clerk told him she was working with me, and asked him what he was doing.

His response: je suis preparee'.  I think it meant he was just getting ready.  He said it with a smile, the clerk started chuckling, and so did I.  What a neat attitude from this little fellow.  And what a nice sense of humor from all concerned.  If you stay tuned to it, the French are quite cheerful and funny. They just don't smile at strangers. 

A Funny Little Fellow

I was at the ticket window today to buy a round-trip RER ticket to CDG for my trip to Germany next week.  Just being prepared, I guess.

While I was standing there in the middle of my process with the ticket clerk, a little man walked up and leaned on the counter, out of breath.  He started laying stuff out, leaning on the counter the whole while, and sort of crowding the ticket window.  It was apparent he was disabled in some fashion.  But here's the funny part; the clerk told him she was working with me, and asked him what he was doing.

His response: je suis preparee'.  I think it meant he was just getting ready.  He said it with a smile, the clerk started chuckling, and so did I.  What a neat attitude from this little fellow.  And what a nice sense of humor from all concerned.  If you stay tuned to it, the French are quite cheerful and funny. They just don't smile at strangers. 

They Talk Funny in England

Two peoples divided by a common tongue, said George Bernard Shaw.  Right.  By the way, they say Right, instead of Okay. 

We were channel surfing in the hotel, and saw a Hyundai commercial.  Hunhday is how we say it.  They say High-Oon-Dye.  Which is right?  Dunno.  Sounds odd.  Fries are chips.  Chips are crisps.  Elevators are lifts.  Lines are queues.  You don't line up for the elevator; you queue for the lift. 

And they talk fast. Really fast.  Some of the girls never breathe.  They are talking too fast to slow down and get air.  Have no idea how they don't pass out from oxygen starvation.  And they walk fast in London.  Really fast.  And they run up escalators in the Tube (subway) - some of theses stations are 6 stories or more underground.  They run all the way up in the morning.  Amazing.  With briefcases and bags.

And the Brits are interesting.  Most I encounter speak a little French.  Many have studied abroad.  They know all about the States and our geography, and most have visited.  They love the American West.  In fact, there are Cowboy & Indian TV shows here and in France and Germany that are quite popular.   They bear not one bit of resemblance to the real west; or even our stylized west of movies and TV.    Funny.

And since we live in Vegas, I get Vegas stories from Cabbies, barmaids, and professionals I encounter.  The Brits love Vegas.  Probably because they get to dry out there.  It's a little damp here....

The High Life in Paris?

This is great.  Everyone thinks we are living it up, going out to restaurants every night (good restaurants), drinking lots of French wine.  I think we are disappointing everyone, but we keep cracking up.

For years we have eaten most meals at home.  We eat at home, and I cook and bake most everything from scratch.  In the last week, we have only eaten one store-bought prepared item: we split a piece of apple tart from the nice bakery lady.  We haven't been out to breakfast, lunch, or dinner this week.  And that is pretty typical of our lifestyle for the last 10 years or so.  Not complaining.  We eat the best food, healthy, fresh ingredients, and mostly low fat.  And we watch our budget, like most folks.  Honestly, no complaints.  But the truth is so less romantic than what everyone thinks...

When we do go out, it's to a good neighborhood place: the Italian La Gondola restaurant two blocks away where the fellow makes every dish of pasta to order (fresh pasta made by hand on the spot!), or the Jean Bart where they connected the two bars and share a kitchem - turning out the best sauteed potatoes we've ever eaten to go with those little French steaks.  But these are very reasonable restaurants, nothing fancy.

And the oceans of French wine?  I don't drink.  Nearing 25 years.  And Susan has the occasional champagne or white wine.  That's all.  Everybody thinks we are living it up.  In a way, I hate to tell them the truth.We were recently at a large get-together in the States and everyone asked the same questions: 1) do you go out every night and 2) have you made any French friends.   

The first I answered above.  The second is more complicated.  We are sort of like tourists here. Not permanent residents, and I don't work in an office.  On the road weekly, I work with my customers in Germany, England, France, Switzerland.  When home I am online or on the phone all day with my customers and HQ in California.  And Susan is not on a visa that allows her to work.  So we don't have a lot of ways to encounter potential French friends.

We meet Americans (and Brits) through other Americans and Brits and probably go out for coffee a couple times a week, or occasionally over to someone's apartment or they to ours.  But those are all English-speakers (funny: all our friends over here are English teachers - quite lucrative for people with a teaching certificate), not French people.  We only meet French people through our American friends.  The French people we have met are really lovely people.  We'd like to get to know more of them, but our limited French comprehension is not up to the challenge.  In the States, we never had friends that couldn't speak English.  Same thing in reverse, I guess.  Plus, maybe we aren't that interesting......    

Me and Mrs Cross

Susan seems to be avoiding the French.  She was hibernating this week, and mostly staying indoors.  It appeared that she was hiding from the French and the French language.  But she's fine now.  And moving around Paris again.

We met some friends for coffee (4 Euros - $6 a cup for a cafe creme - like a cafe au lait), then went to see a photography exhibit at the Bibiliotheque National (National Library).  The exhibit was the work of a guy named Michael Kenna (www.michaelkenna.net).  This man has an amazing eye.  The show included pictures of stuff we have seen and places we have been, but we sure never saw it like that.  All in black and white, this whole show was visually captivating and evocative. 

There was this amazing shot of the Chariot of Apollo in one of the fountains at Versailles.  I took a picture of that same thing, but this is so clear, so sharp, so patient, so well lit that you can hear the sculptor whispering into the photographer's ear "yes, you've got it, this is exactly how I see it".  Stopped me in my tracks.  Mrs Cross was entranced by his pic of the Belle Isle Fountain in Detroit, frozen about 30 feet high. Brought back memories of her childhood.  By the way, here's a new pic of Mrs Cross, taken on our balcony this week for her Facebook account, over the rooftops of Paris.

Susan