670. I have a headache; The dog it was that died.

What's that smell? Is it me? (Château de Vincennes, Paris)

A real life knight protecting the Castle of Vincennes.

The well protected castle.


Inside Sainte Chappelle at Le Château de Vincennes, Paris.


Inside Sainte Chappelle at Le Château de Vincennes, Paris.


Inside Sainte Chappelle at Le Château de Vincennes, Paris.

Inside Saintes Chappelle at Le Château de Vincennes, Paris. I miss a childhood I never had when I look at this picture. I'm thankful that my sister and I are friends as adults, but sad that we didn't get along as children.

The only way into the Sainte Chappelle at Le Château de Vincennes was on a tour. On Sunday the tours are free (yay!), but only in French (dommage!). I'm sure my tour guide was very good and entertaining. She kept the natives nearly in stitches.

Bois de Vincennes, Paris

Saturday I spent my time walking and reading* at the well manicured Jardin des Pantes park. When I arrived at my destination on Sunday, another park in Paris Bois de Vincennes after visiting Le Château de Vincennes, I was surprised by its lush wild beauty.

Bois de Vincennes, Paris

Nasty Price? Bad Alice!

Are you familiar with Meetup.com? Its byline is: "Whatever your interest. Wherever you are." Indeed! I stumbled upon the site many years ago. I had the intention of joining a Bay Area Ken Wilber group, but I was too intimidated. Ken Wilber is one intimidating intellectual, and I imagined that people who would want to get together to discuss integral ideas would also be intimidating (in the brainiac sort of way--more theoretical rather than practical) and less inclined to talk about spiritual things as they related in our day-to-day experiences. So, I instead chose to join a meditation group, and it proved to be a satisfying blend of the two.

I got very lonely in beautiful Paris the other day, and I remembered the meetup.com site. I joined an expats-in-Paris group and went to my first function last night. It was at Duc des Lombardes, a jazz venue in the 1st arrondissement. On stage was Anne Paceo, and her band. She is the drummer and composer of the group.

Jazz is an interesting genre, and I use caution when asked if I like it. Inevitably the inquiring person knows jazz and is keen on testing my knowledge. I also find the question too broad. I like smooth and sultry jazz (soul jazz?), the blues, swing, latin jazz, and easy listening jazz. (Yes, I like Kenny G. Should I turn around and go home now?)

Inside Duc des Lombardes

I think the jazz last night qualifies as avant-garde jazz. I liked it, but found it too cerebral. Here are a few notes I jotted down during the event:

"I am reminded of nights when I have trouble falling asleep, when I'm at the mercy of my mind courting its own grandiloquence. Talk about grandiloquence! My writing sucks."

"This music is as foreign to my soul as this country's language is to my ears… at least my ears hear the language. My soul feels nothing."

Oddly enough, I can honestly say I enjoyed the event and the music wasn't that bad. I didn't get much of a chance to socialize with the other expats--a jazz show is hardly a place to have a getting-to-know-you chat--but they seemed like nice people.


A flat escalator in the Metro. One of life's international mysteries: Why do escalator's handrails move at a slower rate than their treads? (Or is it a faster rate? I forget now. Damn headache!)

This diagram does little to explain our international mystery. I lifted it from this website, where they erroneously claim, "Th[e] belt is precisely configured so that it moves at exactly the same speed as the steps..." Pft.


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*I can't finish Emma for the life of me. Charm and superficial relationships are more entertaining on the big screen. The Painted Veil, however, was tragic and beautiful. Its only fault is that I'm finished with it. Was the movie good? I think I'll rent it.

(In case you were wondering about the title of my post: "The dog it was that died" is the last sentence uttered by the antagonist of The Painted Veil. It is a reference to a Oliver Goldsmith poem An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.

And, I do have a headache. Maybe a glass of wine will help. Ooo... and chocolate. Yes, chocolate always helps.)