Paris Werewolves

Under the tree beneath the famed dome of Galeries Lafayette, 9th Arr. Christmas in France tends towards the traditional. There are carnival rides set up around festive markets, where you can buy gift items and holiday treats such as vin chaud (warm mulled wine) and nougat sliced from huge slabs. The patisseries swap in desserts such as bûche de Noël , which are basically thin, buttercream-frosted cakes, rolled like Hostess Ho-Hos into logs ( bûches ) and decorated with sugar mushrooms, ivy, mistletoe, and other woodland symbiotes. These are not to be confused with Catalonia's tio de Nadal , the Christmas log that Catalan children whack with sticks until it shits out candy and presents--like a scatological piñata, with delicious turds substituting for delicious internal organs. More traditional are galettes de rois , flaky cakes stuffed with a creamy almond paste called frangipane . Named for the three kings from the Gospel of Matthew's nativity story, they are traditionally se

On a freezing night, along a dingy Paris backstreet in the 10th Arrondissement, we found him. He was living under an alias, but there was no question it was him. He didn't even bother to go into a different line of work. Now we have to figure out how to get him back to The Hub.

Little Big Bear, bedecked in glorious Blue and Gold, 6th Arr. For reasons I have not figured out, there seem to be more than a few allusions to Berkeley and its iconography around France. So far I have found two restaurants in Paris named "Berkeley;" another in Lyon was painted Blue and Gold, as is the Little Big Bear Pub in Paris' 6th Arrondissement. One wall of honor in Harry's New York Bar--operating in the 2nd Arr. since the 1920s--rightly places a vintage Oski pennant above hundreds of others.  Oski glowers from atop a wall in Harry's New York Bar, 2nd Arr. A trio of Berkeley establishments in Lyon, and in the 8th and 7th Arrs. The restaurant names probably refer to either Berkeley Square in London--which sits on land originally owned by the third Baron Berkeley of Stratton (1663-1697)--or to the Irish philosopher George Berkeley (1685-1753), Bishop of Cloyne. From what I can recall from my undergraduate philosophy courses (not much), Bishop Berkeley (pronoun

Members of an armored cavalry regiment parading on Pont de Grenelle, 15th Arr. I took a bikeshare to Parc Citroën to use their outdoor exercise equipment this morning. It's not quite three miles from my apartment, and today was the first time in a week that it was not raining or near freezing temperatures, making it about as safe for biking as you could hope for on Paris streets. On my way back home, I stopped to watch a small military ceremony on the Pont de Grenelle. As far as I can tell, today's date was not of military significance, so it must a specific unit's affair--a promotion, graduation, or awards ceremony, perhaps. Military units around Paris are a pretty common sight--but they are usually conducting small patrols near government buildings and tourist areas, always in fatigues and armed with assault weapons. This goes back at least to the coordinated terrorist attacks on the Club Bataclan, the Stade-de-France and a kosher grocery store in 2015. The number of patr

Left: Frankenstein mascaron, 7th. Arr. Right, Boris Karloff figure, Musée Grévin In the architecture and decorative arts around France, I've spotted resemblances to Dracula , the mummy , a sea creature , and more werewolves than I can recall. So it was just a matter of time before Frankenstein showed up. And yes, I refer to the creature as Frankenstein, against the tide of English literature professors and horror scolds alike. A key theme in Mary Shelley's 1818 novel is patrimony, specifically what fathers (in this case, the Creator) owe their progeny. If the Creature is Frankenstein's forsaken offspring (it is), early 19th century European society would have recognized its surname in fact, if not in legal entitlements. If everyone knew that a disavowed and neglected bastard was yours (and the readers of the novel certainly knew), and it had no given name and no known mother, by what other name could it be called but yours?  So the doctor is Frankenstein, and so, by custom

  Inspecting the high-water mark of the 1910 Paris Flood, La Conciergerie, 1st Arr. I'm not sure what I expected from a visit to La Conciergerie in the 1st Arrondissement. The only thing I really knew about it was that it served as the holding cells for people charged with counter-Revolutionary activities beginning in 1793. The accused included not only Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette and other members of the royal and noble families, but also everyday people denounced by their neighbors, family members, or someone with whom they had a personal or professional beef. At the height of the Terror, the revolutionary courts allowed for only two trial outcomes: acquittal or death. So about 4 in 5 defendants were railroaded through a speedy show trial, and whisked off from the Conciergerie to the Place de la Révolution (now Place de la Concorde) for execution. Hence La Conciergerie's reputation as the antechamber to the guillotine. The ledger of La Conciergerie's temporary guests. Lik

La Salle des Colonnes, Musée Grévin, 9th Arr. Le Musée Grévin is probably as close as Paris gets to a Pier 39 or Times Square-level cheesy tourist trap. Opened in 1882, it's a wax museum like any other you may have been to. There are some historical figures, current celebrities, and all-time favorite personages. I'm not well-versed on who's currently famous so I can't say whether the likenesses were spot on, but the figures were incredibly lifelike. Maybe it looked like Lady Gaga. Who knows? The dude in the jeep had a DeGaulle-like air about him, especially against a backdrop photo of the Arc de Triomphe. They also throw some curves at you, with figures placed and composed throughout the museum to look like other attendees. I stood for awhile watching a woman sitting on a bench near the entrance reading a museum guide. I was there just long enough that, had she moved, I would have been the creepy one. Grévin is good for what it is--and since it is a bit off-the-beaten p

Thanksgiving Grocery, circa 2014, 4th Arr. There's no Thanksgiving holiday in France, though they certainly don't lack for days off from work and school. Even without the traditional US feast day, however, they have had no problem adopting Black Friday sales. Préparez-vous pour les Doorbusters! But up until 2018, an American expat ran the Thanksgiving Grocery in the 4th Arrondissement. It specialized in U.S. brands such as Skippy peanut butter, Jell-O, and Campbell's soup. It also claimed to have "cuisine de la Louisiane," which I assume was just Tabasco Sauce. The store is now closed, although I'm aware of at least one other épicerie Américaine (American grocery store), The Real McCoy, where you can get Thanksgiving fixin's like Jiffy cornbread mix and Libby's canned pumpkin--maybe the only place for canned pumpkin in the entire country. The Real McCoy épicerie Américaine, 7th Arr. It just ain't real Thanksgiving without Uncle Henri's stuffin

  "Are we on the plane of reality, facing an actor dressed as a monkey or a monkey performing a stage act? Unless, in the register of fable and caricature, this animal, a figure of duplicity and imitation, parodies a speaker? "

"Roue de bicyclette," Marcel Duchamp (originally, 1913, later 1951) Marcel Duchamp was not the original bullshit artist, nor even the most audacious. But he may be best remembered now for what amounted to pranks on the art establishment, notoriously submitting a urinal to an art exhibition (signed "R. Mutt") and titling a snow shovel "In Advance of the Broken Arm." "Bicycle Wheel" is much a much subtler piece of kinetic sculpture, but still seems intended to provoke less-disciplined thinkers into pointless arguments about "what is art?" and perhaps into more important considerations about who gets to decide (the answer is people with money, in case you have other things to do besides read the rest of this). If the information card on this display at the Petit-Palais as part of the "Le Paris de la Modernité, 1905-1925" exhibit is correct, Duchamp was greatly inspired by a visit to one of the early Paris aviation shows. "Pa

Balard Metro station, 15th Arr. Exiting the Balard Metro station, we came across a lovely stairway installation. Just like with the 16th Avenue Tiled Staircase in San Francisco, I always wonder how they get the images on the risers to line up. We actually went to the 15th Arr. to walk along the Petite Ceinture, a railroad belt along the edge of the city reclaimed as a green space, and then drop in on the Latino Market for enchilada fixin's. We learned the hard way that in the few months since we had last been to the Ceinture, dogs had become banned there. And the Market was closed--hopefully unscheduled, and not permanently. So we did not get a good walk or enchiladas. A piece of street art doesn't make up for those annoyances, but it helps.

Relative affordability of different cities in 2021 and 2023. Indexed to Paris 2021 costs = 100. Metro-area i nflation data from the US Department of Labor and Eurostat were applied to  Numbeo's Cost of Living Index , averaged over 2019-2021. Affordability 2023 data are also weighted to reflect the (downward) performance of US and international stock indices since June 2021. The other night, as I was watching the replay of a Warriors-Kings game on NBA's International League Pass, it occurred to me that I might not be doing Paris correctly. I get the same feeling sometimes when I'm at the American Library, when listening to English-language podcasts or sitting on the couch reading the New York Times. Did we really sell, give away, or junk almost all our belongings and move to a different continent just to do the same things we did in San Francisco? This is a ridiculous, fleeting thought. We did not move to Paris to avoid basketball or NPR. A number of push- and pull-factors l

A clever piece of street art in Chartres, famous for its Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres.  A much more orthodox rendition of the BVM can be found on a 12th century fresco in the cathedral's crypt. I like them both. 12th century fresco, crypt of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres.