SOCIALITE

It appears that owning a dog in France is like obtaining an open pass to converse with any and all strangers you meet on the street. Whether you want to or not...you have little choice in the matter. While his little cocker eyes don't fool me for a second (well, apart from that bit that saw me forking over a bunch of cash to buy him), they seem to work wonders on all passers by that either have a dog, had a dog, want a dog or are quite simply insane. Being, as we are, in France, this figure is somewhere around the 98% mark.

TOUTOU

Mr Francais, master of the poorly thought out idea, lived up to his reputation this weekend and decided the best way to repair the most recent bout of relationship strain was to get a puppy. I didn't really have the energy to argue the point but wasn't really expecting that we'd find a suitable canine candidate so was happy just to wander around and look at fluffy things...until I met my canine kryptonite; a cocker spaniel.  Well, there's zero preparation in the apartment, shoes and cables and dvds lying about as we leave the house with no intention of getting a dog...and come back a lot poorer with an armful of canine...(well, I'm poorer at any rate, somehow I ended up paying for all of this).

To be honest though, I could do with the company (and the exercise).

NORTHERN BRICKS


Even when we're new to a place, it's often the case that we'll go from active observer to passive viewer very quickly. And usually the more common a feature is, the less likely we are to really see it.

Here in northern France, brick architecture reigns supreme. We're drowning in them, from red brick buildings to cobblestone streets, the streets of northern French towns are a pixelated tapestry of squares and mortar. Squint your eyes a little and it all blends into one homogenous mass of baked earth blocks.

GRANDE ARCHE DE LA DEFENSE

Designed by Danish architect Johann Otto von Spreckelsen

RETRACING OLD STEPS

It was my first time back in Paris since leaving definitively about a year ago. Whereas once I was cynical enough to be rolling my eyes at the enchanted tourists, I was myself finally able to appreciate it again for the city that it can be. The edges of bad memories of being pushed and shoved about in the metro softened by observing people actually being courteous, by not riding the peak hour lines or times, by not having to be anywhere at a particular time (except for the train station Anne, except for the train station...)