Paris is famous for a lot of things: it's known, for example, as the City of Lights, the City of Romance, and the City of Dreams.
I think the world is missing the fact that it's also the City of Chickens.
For example, Paris' many trendy boutiques pale in comparison to Mr. Chicken: Original Chicken Clothes:
We also found ourselves on Chickenmonger Street.
(Note to my two French-speaking friends, who are going to complain and point out that this is just a French name, not the word for chickenmonger: work with me, please! Surely this has something to do with chickens...)
And my personal favorite: Chicken Point's restaurant.
This might be the most puzzling use of the apostrophe s that I have seen in recent memory.
And I can't help but wonder: which part of the chicken, exactly, is the chicken point?
This is a long and con-pol-uted (groan) way to say that there are two things I really loved on our maiden voyage to Paris: one is the food, and the other is the healthy dose of quirkiness.
Chickens represent both of these, although I strongly prefer the quirk factor of chickens to the food factor.
Unlike more austere, Northern European cities who shall remain unnamed, Paris felt like it had something interesting and/or weird hidden around every corner.
We stumbled on a exhibit by the Japanese artist Takeshi Kitano at the Cartier Foundation for Contemporary Art, which was amazing in all senses of the word.
As our friend Mary (who was our tireless tour guide, translator, and at least for people like me who are terrified of French waiters, food orderer) points out, this video doesn't even begin to reveal the weirdness of the exhibit.
But it does give you an idea.
I should point out that there is a bonus chicken around 0:37. If you can't find it, direct your attention to the mouth of the alligator.
Other examples of quirkiness:
Space Invaders in the 15th arrondissement...
Speed Rabbit Pizza...
In a city where rabbit is considered a reasonably conventional type of meat to eat for dinner, I found myself wondering if this suggests pizza delivered with the speed of rabbits, or the speedy delivery of rabbit pizza.
The Cemetery at Montparnasse was full of quirky variations on eternal rest. One of our favorites was the "I'm not dead yet" tombstone:
Another was further proof that nothing says "I miss you" like dead flowers and packing tape.
Slightly less quirky but still somewhat charming were...
Billboard painters in the subway (note that the green blur is an incoming train):
Cute numbered washing machines in cute French laundromats:
Boxes of fruit at Paris' ubiquitous open-air markets:
The contraption-filled Stravinsky fountain:
And photos taken with the mirrors in the lobby of Mary's building, which has an elevator the size of our Dutch refrigerator:
This sort of pains my inner cynic, but all of these delightful little things plus the gorgeous French spoken around us made me feel most of the time like I was living in the movie Amelie.
But as I mentioned, the quirk was only part of the fun.
Since there's nothing quite as exciting as hearing about five days' worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner, I will spare you the rundown of all of the delicious things we found to eat in Paris.
Perhaps I can just say that after living for 18 months in a food-indifferent Northern European country who shall remain unnamed, bingeing on Paris' many culinary options made us very, very, very happy campers.
We were also lucky enough to have perfect weather, so most of our meals were long and leisurely affairs at tables outside.
I took the following series of midday photos of John and Mary discussing what semolina is, exactly, as we contemplated our dessert options at the Lebanese deli down the street.
Lest you think that we skipped all of Paris' landmarks in favor of eating and taking photos of miscellaneous weirdness, we at least pretended to see some of the sites.
Note that it's impossible to take self portraits at the Eiffel Tower without ending up with the tower sticking out of one's head.
Random sculpture in the Tuileries:
Notre Dame and the Seine:
Some eternal sacrifice back at the Montparnasse Cemetery:
And last but not least, a little bit of friendliness at the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Because nothing says "City of Romance" like Catholicism!
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