So, this past week my brother was here in Paris with me, and we were busy doing the town on weekends, while he went off and did his own sightseeing during the week, while I worked and went to french classes. I had thought that french classes would include instructions on french kissing, but so far all we've been doing is talking about verbs and vocabulary issues, topics, which although they may be essential, aren't nearly as interesting.

Last saturday daniel and I went north to les marchés aux puces, the paris flea market. The streets are lined with shops and booths selling all sorts of paris trinkets, bangles, clothes, and accessories, some of questionable quality (not to mention questionable desirability) all at cutthroat prices. Hot items this year seem to be baggy jeans that have chinese writing on them, and drawstrings at the ankles, and anything that says Ralph Loren or Nike on it. Daniel successfully negotiated for a pair of salad tongs (I almost wrote salad thongs...that would have been interesting) carved from wood with elephants on the handles for about $7, because, as the vendor pointed out, we were "good friends". Thanks, bub! The streetshow included people selling hot sugared nuts, as well as several games of three card monty, which you can partake in for only 200 francs. I told daniel to avoid the young lebaneese selling sweaters from trash bags on the sidewalk, and as we watched the police appeared, and the young men disappeared into the crowd. I assume they don't have a particularly good exchange policy. The inside of les puces is one of the biggest antique markets you'll ever see. There are stores that sell only silverware, only old mirrors, chairs, armoirs, chandeliers, military paraphenalia, and loads of stuff in between. You can get lost easily in the long, twisty alleys jammed packed with one little store after another. You can also melt your credit card. I was particularly attracted to a 4 foot cast iron chicken that one vendor was selling, thinking about how surreal it would be to have a 4 foot rusting chicken in your room, or hiding behind a hedge in the garden. I forsee some transportation issues with a 400 pound chicken, however.

After a morning looking at old gilded chairs, we repaired to the north of the marais district, which is a miniature chinatown. Well, actually, there are a number of chineese restaurants and supermarkets, as well as an abnormally high number of stores that sell purses. Just purses. Here in france they have creative names. In the US, we conjectored, these stores would all end up being called "Just Purses", or "Purses, Stuff and More!" There we ate a Bo-Bun, a bowl of rice noodles with all sorts of goodies mixed in, including a couple of mint leaves that add that extra favorful punch.

Sunday we took my prefered walk to work, a path that leads past Trinité church, the Opera Garnier, down the Boulevard d'Opera, through the courtyard of the Palais Royale where Louis XIV grew up, and into the heart of the Louvre. We of course had to pause from time to time to take in the sights, but continued our walk down the seine towards the heart of the city, and past the long row of booksellers who have constructed special booths which balance on the wall along the seine. While looking at old books and postcards, we discovered that on the street below they were filming a movie, so we stood and watched a couple of takes of an austin mini couper weaving it's way through a field of oncoming traffic while being chased by several french police. Additional stunt cars were up where we were, with the keys in the ignition, so we thought about taking a joyride, but it would be hard to be inconspicuous, I pointed out, with a 35mm camera on the hood. From there we wandered past Notre Dame to St. Michael, the most densely packed region of cafés and restaurants in Paris. I can't claim that any of the restaurants are particularly good, but there is a nice variety, and they cater to tourists, so if you have a yen for frog legs or escargot, this is the place for you. Oddly enough, as I noticed, there were quite a few greek restaurants there as well. The fancier ones employ people to stand outside and pull people in. The usual technique is to promise free coffee of desert, as it looks bad to be carrying customers in kicking and screaming.

From there we went back to the islands in the middle of the seine, and in the heart of the smaller one, Ile de St. Louis we stopped to have an ice cream cone at what is touted as the best ice cream store in paris. daniel's gooseberry sorbet lived up to the reputation, as did my chocolate whiskey, which had enough chocolate to be considered a stiff mousse, and enough whiskey to make it illegal for me to drive for the next hour. Close by is the Arab Institute, which has one of the best cafés with a view on the top floor. They've also got an observation deck which is free, so we went up and enjoyed the parisian winter weather while spotting the Grande Arch at La Defense, Sacre Coeur and other notable buildings on the right bank.

We had decided to see a film in the late afternoon, but had enough time to see the Parc de la Villette, the old paris slaughter yards which have since been turned into a giant playground for kids, as well as the home for the new Museum of Science and Industry, the Paris Conservatory of Music, and the Cité de la Musique, a combination musuem, concert hall and café.

I thought an hour would be plenty of time to get back to Montparnasse to see our film, but I was wrong. It was just enough time, and as we were standing in line to buy a ticket to see 'Hamlet', they announced that the showing was sold out. What to do? Quickly we consulted the Pariscope magazine that lists all the films in Paris, and found a nearby cinema showing 'Snatch', so we quickly went over, paid our money and sat down, only realizing over the opening dialog that the film was dubbed from english into french. Oy! I learned my lesson. You would think that after 6 months in a foreign country I'd learn to check what language the film was in by now.