4in15

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Everything under the sun

Sooner or later you have to leave old fears behind. Some people are scared of heights and others of open spaces and still others of closed ones. I'm not too fond of tractors. But you know, sitting inside the house when it's a beautiful spring day outside gets old quick. So I decided to confront my fear!

It helped that mama took up viticulture and went shopping for a baby blue tractor. You know, some people dream of owning a Maserati, mama just wants four big wheels and a plow.

Why not check out a few more pictures here: vineyards and tractor pulls

You can also check out my day with Tess and our mother's day guests of honor here: Matinée and a couple of parks

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Short back and sides

Living in the 15th, you can't just let yourself go. I mean people know me here and the nosier ones are always watching what I'm wearing, where I'm going, and who I'm hanging around with. It's bad enough that a healthy (i.e. fat) balding guy drops me off at school every morning (I tell my classmates he's a butler) but the Gongo was starting to let himself go, at least his hair. I mean, this guy was looking like a hippie!

Fortunately, my coiffeur and confidant, Bruno, understood my dilemma. What would people think. I mean, in this world, it's guilt by association.

Last night, I told Gabriel about the giant ice cream that across in the 7th. How people spend nights on the rue de Bac thinking they might catch a glimpse. The kind of people who camp on the shores of Loch Ness hoping for a photograph that they can sell to the British tabloids so the rest of the country's indecisive heathens can read something that finally interests them other than drunken fights in football stadiums.

He took the bait and followed me up the rue de Sèvres to the rue de Bac. A short while later the Gongo was looking less like a 60s reject and more like Cary Grant. Of course, I couldn't pass up a chance to let Bruno's Rodin-like hands sculpt my hair into a follicular masterpiece, so I said that I needed a little change in my life and that a new hairstyle might do the trick. We took advantage of the sun and cut my hair outside.

After the usual bon bon, we waved goodbye and left in search of the giant ice cream. We found it but it tasted like plastic. I suppose the limeys wouldn't know the difference.

Why don't you check out a shamelessly extensive collection of pictures of me and the Gongo's Saturday here: No country for young hippies

Saturday, May 1, 2010

May day, May day!

In France, there are half holidays and full holidays. Only the French know the difference. I'm French, so I can tell the diamond from the cubic zirconia, the real from the Memorex. But if you're from out of town, there is only one surefire way to find out. Go to Monoprix.

If it's open, it's a half holiday, if it's closed, you know for sure that this is the real thing, a full-on, whole holiday.

In France, May 1st is about as whole as a holiday can get.

This year, May day fell on a Saturday, which kind of annoyed mama and papa because they don't get an extra day off and all the shops are closed. But my sister and I are born and bred Parisians, and we know a few things to do on whole holidays.

The market on Avenue de Saxe is open. That place reminds mama and papa of Dude and Chris. We bought some of that delicious green tapenade and the traditional May 1st muguet.

But on May first you want to do something a little different, something new. So mama and papa took me to the theater. My first time!

Yeap, mama and papa decided to slum it so we climbed aboard the Metro and headed east to the 13th arrondissement! After checking out the interesting types who take public transport mama gave me a whole lot of anti-bacterial gel and we walked to the theatre la cachette to see Lucine et Malo.

Inès fell asleep but I couldn't keep my eyes of the stage. Every time Lucine came on stage my heart started to beat a little harder. A bit sad though, because Lucine is an ondine. To most ordinary folk she might be mistaken for a mermaid, but she's not. I can tell them apart. A bit like whole holidays and half ones.

Why don't you check out all our pictures from May day here: I'm no commie but I love May 1st!

Monday, April 19, 2010

The Easter bunny melted!

Long weekends are always very welcome at the rue Lecourbe, in large part because we actually leave the rue Lecourbe and point the car southwards. That means a lot of traffic and annoying papa by asking him to play the same CD a thousand times (it's been about seven months that I haven't allowed him to play another one). It also means being spoiled silly by Abuelita, aka Ata. But this time another dimension came to add itself into the lovely mix. Chocolate!!!!

Now most ordinary people think there is only one thing that you can do with chocolate: eat it. That's just plain short-sided and uncreative. Sure, that may be the best part, but is far from its only use. You see, chocolate melts in your hand, not in your mouth. And that great elemental property means that you never really have to part with your dear chocolate because you keep finding it everywhere for weeks. There's chocolate on the floor, on the walls, on the table cloth, on the oven, on the TV screen, on the door knobs, on the carpet, on the blankets, and even on the ceiling (don't ask).

Apart from the chocolate there was the usual stuff. Lamb, about six kilos of garlic, sun, lotto, waking up mama and papa, planting strawberries (and raspberries and blueberries), eating, Sancerre...

But who cares?

There was lots and lots of chocolate!

Yeap, Easter was a riot.

You can check out a few more pictures of Easter at the Chetif Moulin here: Pass the nahuatl please

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Chillin' in France

From Old man winter 2010

Winter suffers from a terrible reputation in many places. I think old man winter just had lousy press because he's really not so bad.

From Old man winter 2010

Okay, winter storms have been a little angrier than usual this year, but there are really lots of reasons to like winter. I had my first snowball fight with papa a little further up the rue Lecourbe. The Gongo and I get to wear the nice coats that Ata gave us. And I certainly wouldn't think about drinking vin chaud in summer! Ice cream, on the other hand, is perfectly edible in winter (and spring and summer and fall).

From Madness at the Martinière

This winter has been particularly cold. But we've kept warm by seeing so many fun people. We went to my great aunt and uncles house in Normandy for the weekend and where I regrouped with my cousins from the Aisne. Papa got sick of me asking him to take us to the beach, so we hit Deauville at sub-zero. It may have been too cold to swim but I spotted the casino and picked up an idea about how I'll pay for college.

From Diggin' Deauville

Papa has abandonded us for the Alps. I know he'll come back. He can't live without us. Still, when he gets back, winter will be over and spring is a whole other story.

I hope papa eats well while he's away...

Friday, January 15, 2010

A touch of summer

It's a long way to go just to get your hair washed.

From Lovin' Lima

I kind of like the snow. But I suppose mama and papa don't since they woke us up a three o'clock in the morning a few weeks ago and took us straight to the airport. They put us on a plane and headed off as far as they could. The other end of the world even. Twenty-four hours later we rolled up to my Mimi's rockin' new pad in Miraflores. It was summer there. I'd never been to deepest, darkest Peru, though my sister had.

From Holy Lima!

The skies there reminded me a lot of Paris in November, but without the rain. Of all the luck, I go to Peru when El Niño decides to make a rare appearance. But this was no ordinary trip. No lazy vacation in the land of Inca Cola. No jungle expedition to lost civilizations. I was being baptized, and the gray skies weren't getting in the way of my one-way ticket out of Limbo. No siree!

After the ceremony I could breathe easy knowing I would join my papa in heaven (he thinks) once the big journey is over. But my buddy Milo still had an important ceremony ahead of him. A couple of weeks later Papa walked up the Morro where his umbilical cord was buried next to Luma's. It was quite a celebration and I'm happy that they are together after all this time. Milo's mama and Papa are too.

From Christmas in shorts

This is my very first summer Christmas ever. I suppose it's my second Christmas ever so I've spent half my Christmases in light cotton. Hot or cold, Mimi knows how to do it right! I directed a careful decoration of the Christmas tree and provided light entertainment. New Year showed up six hours late, but it did arrive. And when it did there is nothing like a lightly-regulated country to place huge amounts of explosives in the hands of small children. I was a little upset that my parents didn't go local on that one. Still, I enjoyed the show.

Now my sister told me quite a bit about Peru. She told me of the Inca's and the pre-Inca cultures. She described the beautiful colonial architecture that adorns many of its cities. She talked about the streets, the people, the jungle, the high Andes and the dry coast. But she didn't tell me what really mattered. No, to know Peru, to really know Peru - or at least Lima - you must have a grasp, an understanding, a personal experience - you must know Wong.

Yeap, you got your Ceviche and Lomo Saltado, white houses in Asia, ATVs and SUVs, suntan lotion, baby alpaca, Mount Huascaran and the Ucayali River, Regatas, Frontón and bull fights; you have pisco sours and cerveza cusqueña, Larco Mar, Trujillo, Miraflores, San Isidro, La Mar, Astrid y Gastón, Pescados Capitales and La Gloria, corrupt legislators, balconies, funky sculptures, pan flute music, el cajón, the bridge where people no longer sigh, traffic, butifarras, garúa, Vargas-Llosa, pollution, potatoes and blue corn, taxis honking, mudslides and earthquakes, green parks in the desert, chicha, Villa El Salvador, Octopus and adobe. But forget it. You want to live the ultimate experience? Get yourself to Wong!