The Dalí Museum in Montmartre is not so great, but they have a Photomaton in which you can take photos of yourself in the guise of the master for a mere two euros.
In France, the TV show CSI is called Les Experts.
Protesters in front of the elementary school across the street want to “libéré Messieur Wang!” or at least that’s what they chanted about a thousand times in a row through two bullhorns the other day.
Now, I’m wondering if Mssr. Wang might be the little Cambodian guy who ran the laundry which mysteriously closed last week. One hypothesis states that he was harboring illegal children who attended the elementary school. Like, for instance, his grandson, whom we watched him beat one day when we picked up the laundry.
Lately, I’ve been having ideas for hateful Anglophile-in-France T-shirts. One would say “French Much?” Another one might say, “We Saved Your Ass, Now Kiss Mine!” In other lame T-shirt news, someone swiped my “Swine Flew” idea.
The Bois de Vincennes is transcendently beautiful these days.