Scott is apparently alive and bumming around the west coast of Mexico to see if having a degree in electrical engineering really improves your surfing skills.
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Sarah came back from Madrid for the week-end and dragged us around for shopping. we compromised for an ice-cream break on top of BHV (a huge department store located in the first arrondissement) with a nice view of the city. The top-floor “tea salon” of BHV is nothing too threatening to tiffany’s or even neiman marcus’, more like a big patch of astroturf and a few benches with an ice-cream stand in the middle. But at least it was way above car exhaust level, which is always appreciable in Paris.
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Yesterday was a special holyday in France… Actually more a kind of make-believe holiday like “grandmother day”, “secretary day”, “sauerkraut day” etc.
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Harold and Sarah live in le Marais, a district of Paris packed with all kind of cafes and eateries, catering to the diverse crowds traditionally inhabiting this neighbourhood: gay and lesbians on one side, orthodox jews on the other…
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In a time where straight-face conservatism and orwellian parody seem to take inspiration from each other, it’s hard to tell… But I think this one is an authentic:
Have some real psychopatriotic ice-cream: StarsSpangledIceCream.com
(plucked freshly from Mark Morford’s hilariously semi-coherent weekly word avalanche)

Arriving at Perpignan’s local airport reminded me of small African airports…
these airports where a dozen passengers exit directly on the tarmac and walk under a heavy sun to a building which looks more like an abandoned office space than a buzzing airport facility…
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Ok, at long last, an entry on Paris…

Just when it started looking like Paris was still all about annoyingly grumpy parisians, endless strikes and rude, eternally malcontent, cab drivers (a mere thirty minutes after leaving the airport, I had my first lecture on how shuttle buses from the airport where stealing work from cabs and how he usually never picked fares at the shuttle station)…
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What you do when you have too much time in your flight from Tokyo to Kuala Lumpur…
Following my recent entry mentioning this foul tasting and weirdly named popular japanese beverage: Pocari Sweat, here is a little graph to make things clear.
Click on the picture for a full-size version.
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Here is a little something taken two days ago just before leaving Tokyo (more on Paris, where I am now, later)…
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