678. It's an invasion!

On my first day in Paris, I spotted this familiar icon:



It's a ghost from Pacman, an old arcade game.

My first hunch was that it was graffiti. Sure enough, last week, I found another one:



A little web research sent me to this blog that is a little less embarrassed than me about liking graffiti.

I hold graffiti in the same regard as I hold rap: most of it is crap, but a few talented individuals, nay, artists have given me enough pause that I no longer slip into an autopilot I-just-don't-get-it rant upon audio or visual contact.

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I did a very brave thing last week: I got my hair cut and highlighted at a salon here in Paris. I dread having to find a new stylist in my own country, but having to do so in Paris was terrifying. I feared that I would have to spend my last 2 months in Europe sporting a green mohawk. Although there was plenty of pointing, head shaking and nodding, "ouis," "nons," "huh?" and "what in the hell are you saying!?!" type phrases, I ended up with a very nice cut and color. Franck Provost rocks: You don't need an appointment, the prices are printed clearly on the store front window (in French), and they do wonderful work. Think upscale Supercuts.

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What's going on in your part of the world?