Lookie, Lookie, Who's Got the Cookie...

So, thanks to the eternal wisdom of my brother-in-law, Joseph the Wonder Stud, I have finally figured out how to upload pictures to my blog!

Three Cheers for Joe!

Hip, Hip, Hooray.... and what not.

Regardless, this is going to be one of those blogs where I dont write much, except to explain pictures that need explaining.

That in mind, there are no pictures of me or the hotel or the people I work with... yet. Those are coming soon. (I have to keep you coming back somehow.)

So, before the pictures begin, let me just say that this is a new camera for me, so please be gentle with your criticisms of my artistic prowess, and no food or drink in the theatre, please.

Finally, please turn off all cell phones and pagers now. Big ups.

So there you go: happy now? I see these two places almost every day, and frankly, the sight of them now makes me want to wretch. Enjoy!

So here are some of the pictures from Les Halles-Rungis, the farmer's market where I fell in love with the cheese. The first picture is from a gigantic tub of shrimp. I mainly took this picture for my dad, who loves seafood. He is also one of the reasons I dont eat seafood. Did you ever get so grossed out by something as a child that it still makes you queezy today? My dad used to eat raw mussels with a tall glass of milk when I was a kid. So, that was the end of that for me. Besides, raw mussels look like loogies.

The second picture is one of the roughly 45 stalls selling slaughtered cows or pigs. Yum.
You will be happy to know that this is all hallal meat though. Hallal is the Islamic practice of a priest praying over a cow before it is slaughtered, so that the meat can be eaten. That explains why you dont see so many cows in church these days, and it also probably explains why so many cows convereted to Hinduism.

The third picture is a box of crotan du chevre. That's French, y'all. It means goat cheese cakes. "But Mark, I remember from high school French that gateaux is cake. How can crotan be cake too?" Well, that's because crotan actually means horse terd. Really. That's what they think goat cheese looks like before it is molded and covered in grass (...to protect it. Protect it from what? What is the grass really gonna do?). So really, those are horse terds of cheese. To quote the devil herself, "Yum-O."

Finally, there is a box of grapes and other assortied fruits. I took a picture of fruits because it reminded me of Sean. (Hi Sean!)

Ahhh, the Louv-ra. Is there any finer way to spend an afternoon? Of course there is. But this way ain't too bad either.

So, the first picture is more about me realizing my photographic style than anything else. Remember when I said, "How many people have the same exact pictures of the same exact things?"; well this is when I started to think that. There were no less than one hundred people greedily cramming themselves into the 100 square feet provided to see Mrs. Lisa. When you get up close, she's not even that cute. She's kind of manish, actually. I took a picture just so I could say I did. Also, I hear that the flash from your camera degrades the quality of the actual painting, so in some small way I was doing my part to ensure that future interns living in France wont have to put up with a 4 foot 2 Asian woman jamming her elbo into the small of their back, just so she can get her five seconds with La Jaconde. But I digress...

The second picture is one of the heads from Easter Island. Its a real one. The Moari (sp?) tribe on Easter Island has allowed this one to visit the Lourve. It is amazing and gigantic. They believe that these statues help to channel the spirits of their ancestors and protect the island, and they gave one to the Louvre! That's a heck of a favor. So here it is, in all its bodiless glory.

What can I say, the Louvre gives great head.

Finally, the inverted glass pyramid designed by I.M. Pei (the famous Chinese architech, hello?) for the Louvre. Since the Louvre used to be a palace, every king of France has added something to it, to make it more grand and to make it their own. I think Presient Francois Mitterand asked to have Mr. Pei add his pyramids, but don't quote on that. I think they're great, and according to The DaVinci Code, the Virgin Mary is buried right under this pyramid. Didn't read the book? Well, now you don't have to.

On a warm, Sunday evening in Paris, I was trolling Montparnasse for a gigantic Beligan beer and an open-faced cheese sanhwhich to go with my very, very good book. And lucky for me, I found just that! That's picture number one. The ash tray is just for show. Calm down, Ruta.

The second beer is of the only cowboy I have met here in Paris so far. Surprisingly, the glut of cowboys in France that you always hear about seems to be an urban legend. Regardless, he was smoking a very fine cigar and spoke appalingly bad French, so I took of picture of him. He didnt budge. He reeked of tough; I like to think of that as the night I had a cheese sandwhich with the man who killed and ate Jack Palance.

And all of this happened at the famous Le Select. It was a favorite haunt of BFF's Hemmingway and Picasso, so it is good enough for me. I actually go there often, and am trying to get to know the new crowd there, including Mickey, the house cat.

A melenge, as we say here in France.

The first picture was of a guy who was drawing some kids playing in the Jardin du Luxembourg. It just seems like this is what Paris is all about. It struck me, so I took a picture. The gardens are one of my favorite places in all of Paris now. I thought this way pretty timeless though. Its what I think of when I think of evening in Paris on the weekend.

The second picture: when I was 15, and first in Paris, I had a crush on a girl named Karen Maisley. We were on a class trip together and staying in the same hotel. I thought she had no idea that I was even alive, but somehow I managed to convince her to sneak out of our hotel and to wander the streets of Paris, just the two of us, after curfue, on Valentines Day. I mean, break out the crackers because that is some serious cheese. We wandered around for a long time, and finally, we were hungry. We stopped in to a little Mexican place and had one of the first romantic dinners of my life. Well, the other day, I was in St. Germain and had stopped for lunch. Afterward, I was looking for a phone to call my wife, and lo and behold, I walked right past the very same place I had dinner with Karen, over 15 years ago. This is a picture of it, obviously.

Its still there, even though that Valentines Day romance only lasted about 4 hours.

Finally, this is a shot out the window of the king's bedroom at Versailles, looking onto the gardens. Actually, it is one of the king's bedrooms: he had two. In the first he had his official going to sleep ceremony, which was witnessed by any number of noblemen and courtiers and such, after which, he jumped out of bed, and ran across the hall to his real bedroom. I took this picture because I thought it was a nice view, and I thought that it was a view the king must have starred out at often, because maybe he was as bored with Versailles as I was.

Anyway, that's all folks. Like I said, more pictures to come, but I thought a quick review of some of the things I have been writing about was in order now that I understand this very 21st century camera.

Hope all is well, and I will write more soon.

PS- Ruta, this made me think of you. I like it especially because it is an orange, and you are always telling me to eat more fruit.