Paris, FR (besoin d'un sous-forum de voyage)

[dad]

Paris is easily my favorite part of our trip. It was the city I was most excited to visit, and it didn't disappoint. We did so much walking...my god, insane amounts of walking...until we decided to try the metro, which wasn't all that bad...except for the last full day we were there, and hopped on a car and a guy was asleep or dead in the corner of the car and he'd clearly shit himself or was a rotting corpse. either way, it was foul.

at one of our dinners (the tasting menu), we met a couple from sweden who told us about a mark rothko exhibit, which we got to see the same day as the rotting guy on the metro. i hope he wasn't dead.

fucking hell I just looked and we're going to barely miss that Rothko exhibit

I had to google this and … seriously?

bammer: art appreciator.

[Anders]

Paris is easily my favorite part of our trip. It was the city I was most excited to visit, and it didn't disappoint. We did so much walking...my god, insane amounts of walking...until we decided to try the metro, which wasn't all that bad...except for the last full day we were there, and hopped on a car and a guy was asleep or dead in the corner of the car and he'd clearly shit himself or was a rotting corpse. either way, it was foul.

at one of our dinners (the tasting menu), we met a couple from sweden who told us about a mark rothko exhibit, which we got to see the same day as the rotting guy on the metro. i hope he wasn't dead.

fucking hell I just looked and we're going to barely miss that Rothko exhibit

I had to google this and … seriously?

I agree Bammer.

[dad]

bammer, you'd have been very upset by the Robert Ryman exhibit I saw in London.

very upset.

[Bammer]

bammer, you'd have been very upset by the Robert Ryman exhibit I saw in London.

very upset.

Yeah no thanks

[wease]

bammer, you'd have been very upset by the Robert Ryman exhibit I saw in London.

very upset.

Yeah no thanks

Free your mind. The rest will follow.

[Bammer]

bammer, you'd have been very upset by the Robert Ryman exhibit I saw in London.

very upset.

Yeah no thanks

Free your mind. The rest will follow.

I got similar stuff magneted to my fridge right now

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[dad]

This city makes me very melancholy. Pretty dirty. Everything is slow. Pretty rough going for a stroller, can’t imagine how hard it is if you’re in a wheelchair. Very segregated. Stuck somewhere between the distant past and near past, and nowhere near the future.

It’s very family friendly, though. And the cost of living actually seems reasonable; probably one of the last bastions of affordable bohemian culture.

It’s great. I think about it all the time. And yes, everything is reasonably priced imo.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[doug rr]

make sure to order the sole meuniere from chez George while you're there

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[doug rr]

make sure to order the sole meuniere from chez George while you're there

Do you remember which section it’s in? We’re staying in the 6th and there’s one right around the corner, but the website just has drink menus. But there are also three other locations with the same name?

1 Rue de mail..its very old school..enjoy the radishes before lunch or dinner..

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[VinylGuy]

This city makes me very melancholy. Pretty dirty. Everything is slow. Pretty rough going for a stroller, can’t imagine how hard it is if you’re in a wheelchair. Very segregated. Stuck somewhere between the distant past and near past, and nowhere near the future.

It’s very family friendly, though. And the cost of living actually seems reasonable; probably one of the last bastions of affordable bohemian culture.

It’s great. I think about it all the time. And yes, everything is reasonably priced imo.

It’s weird. Nobody is asking this city to innovate; its economy doesn’t seem to need it. But it’s not what I’d call a growth economy. I feel it will be the exact same city in 20 more years, probably with more ethnic and social disparity.

All the old people are white. All the young people are brown or black. They live in completely different neighborhoods. That’s not sustainable, I don’t think.

Yet Paris changed a lot from the first time I went to now. Europe is a compete different thing with good stuff and bad stuff all around. I still remember the days of pre euro and how different those cities were. I feel Paris is one of the best ones all around with Barcelona , Berlin and amsterdam being very close. After that Lisbon for sure.

[doug rr]

make sure to order the sole meuniere from chez George while you're there

Do you remember which section it’s in? We’re staying in the 6th and there’s one right around the corner, but the website just has drink menus. But there are also three other locations with the same name?

1 Rue de mail..its very old school..enjoy the radishes before lunch or dinner..

Just found them on instagram and the chef is always posing with celebrities. Probably my kid isn't cool enough for us to hang there (because I definitely still am )

f*ck the celeb stories..its basically a Dennys diner on the inside with great food..its just normal people that eat 24 ounce ribeyes for lunch..

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[doug rr]

make sure to order the sole meuniere from chez George while you're there

Do you remember which section it’s in? We’re staying in the 6th and there’s one right around the corner, but the website just has drink menus. But there are also three other locations with the same name?

1 Rue de mail..its very old school..enjoy the radishes before lunch or dinner..

Just found them on instagram and the chef is always posing with celebrities. Probably my kid isn't cool enough for us to hang there (because I definitely still am )

f*ck the celeb stories..its basically a Dennys diner on the inside with great food..its just normal people that eat 24 ounce ribeyes for lunch..

I'll put it on the maybe list. But if I go there and they make me feel like a jerk for bringing my kid in, so help me god

your kid is already breathing in cigarette smoke and bad cologne..let em' eat I say...

[doug rr]

have you booked Paul Bert yet?

[dad]

make sure to order the sole meuniere from chez George while you're there

Do you remember which section it’s in? We’re staying in the 6th and there’s one right around the corner, but the website just has drink menus. But there are also three other locations with the same name?

1 Rue de mail..its very old school..enjoy the radishes before lunch or dinner..

Just found them on instagram and the chef is always posing with celebrities. Probably my kid isn't cool enough for us to hang there (because I definitely still am )

f*ck the celeb stories..its basically a Dennys diner on the inside with great food..its just normal people that eat 24 ounce ribeyes for lunch..

I'll put it on the maybe list. But if I go there and they make me feel like a jerk for bringing my kid in, so help me god

your kid is already breathing in cigarette smoke and bad cologne..let em' eat I say...

my god, parisians love their cigs.