Adieu to our Home: Saint Leu

THE STORY:

Moving day turns out to be a pretty moving day for us. Just before we have to move out of our home for four years, on Ile St. Louis, we realize that Pippa no longer remembers our house in San Francisco, so this is literally the only home she knows. Needless to say, there are many tears as we leave. Thank goodness we're only leaving for the 5th arrondissement, and not leaving Paris altogether, or we'd be a complete mess. What's amazing is that for the entire week beforehand, it's as if our view is giving us the grandest, most loving send-off it can: gorgeous sunset after gorgeous sunset, with some fabulous night and day views thrown in for good measure.

Read more »

Voodoo Medicine: Foujou

THE STORY:

Give me a placebo, a miracle lotion, or some snake oil, and I'll show you about 60 million French people that believe wholeheartedly in its healing powers. The feeling here is that if it fizzes, comes in a handy dispenser, tastes bad, tastes good, must be dissolved in water, must be eaten dry, gets rubbed in, or is shoved up the ass, then it must certainly work. No matter what the claim, the French buy in.

Read more »

Brunner. It's a Thing: Brebiro

THE STORY:

I dub it "brunner". The French, however, call it "le brunch", even though they have no idea why they are calling it "le brunch" and do not actually understand that it's a combination of the words "breakfast" and "lunch". I have no idea why they are calling it "le brunch" either, for different reasons: in general, the restaurants start serving it after noon -- sometimes well after noon -- till almost dinner time. Therefore "brunner" (breakfast, lunch, dinner) it is.

Read more »