adieu, Paris

Oh the days fly by.  This is our last day here.  We were delighted to walk out of our apartment on Sunday afternoon only to find a huge flea market in progress practically at our doorstep.  Countless vendors purveying lots of cool antique things that would have been wonderful to purchase had we lived in a nearby arrondissement . . . Also in a stroke of luck we happen to be staying next door to a well-known market, the marche de les enfants rouge, where any and every type of food was available to take out or eat on site in one of the many cafe tables lined along the narrow corridors.  We decided to get Moroccan tagines and ended up sharing a cramped table with a young French couple.  About to go to Bastille area for a walk.

Yesterday we walked down Marais, which was very lovely on a bustling Saturday, and across the Seine to Ile St. Louis and the Latin Quarter.  Very pretty . . . We ended up bickering about where to eat . . . I grabbed a tuna and cheese crepe on the side of the road . . . the French Asian fusion place I wanted to go to had no tables available . . .we eventually landed in a nondescript cafe back in the Marais.  We got free tickets to go to a night club, but we ended up not going, our energy reserves depleted from arguing about whether or to go or not.

The day before, Versailles (see earlier post) and St. Germain des Pres for dinner (nondescript).

The day before, the Louvre.  Yes we decided to go back.  Yes, it was crowded.  Yes,  I was cranky because I lost my scarf somewhere between Winged Victory and the 14th century French painters.  Somehow no opportunity to stop and enjoy any one particular piece of art . . . the one thing that was nice remembering was how pretty some of the actual galleries are in the Louvre, as befitting a former palace.  Then to Champs Elysees at night.  They’ve installed hundreds of tent stores along the Champs Elysees for the holidays.  It was nice to walk up and down the street.   We had vin chaud and bought winter hats because it was cold.  Funny to see a truly elaborate entrance to some exclusive store and a long queue . . . we should have known by the buff sentries outside the gate that this was none other than L’Abercrombie et Fitch.

The day before, Montmartre and Pigalle . . . we ate at a somewhat cheesy (literally and figuratively) fondue place, mostly for nostalgia purposes . . .Mark had eaten there with some friends in 1986!  We bought a couple of small paintings in a gallery for up and coming artists.  We went to the Sacre Coeur . . . there was a French guy singing REM songs outside.

I am trying to remember my Paris visit in the 90s.  For the life of me, I can’t – did I actually skip the 90s?  I do somewhat remember my 2002 visit, but nothing in particular comes to mind. I’d just quit my job.  I was in the middle of a month-long multinational tour of Europe . . . I was running out of cash. I was by myself, which did not lend itself to dining in high style (along with the cash shortage).

One final reflection anon . . .

 

Occupy Versailles

In my earlier post, I neglected to mention that M. and I are in Paris for Thanksgiving.  And yes I am writing maniacally now because I can’t sleep because my caffeine intake has gone up two thousand percent due to these sneaky little espresso cafes they serve over here.

We are having a decent time, despite the fact that a few days ago on our way to getting on one of those cheesy boat tours on the Seine I went airborne and landed flat on my face and bruised my leg.  Oh la la, that did not feel bon.  The next day I was trying desperately to look all styling Korean-Parisian instead of what I was–a hot mess hobbling all over the sidewalks and rues of this elegant town.

We went to Versailles yesterday.  All I can say is, Yo.  Yo: THIS IS THE ONE PERCENT.   Louis XVI was someone probably even the one percent felt the need to occupy.  He was the point une percent. I guess he and Marie Antoinette had it coming.  They avoided regulation all those years and then the people said, um why are we subsidizing this ginormous palace for you? Non, merci!  Not only are we bailing you out but we just built you a ten million square foot palace and grounds that go on for ten thousand miles.  Literally.

Okay, so M. and I got lost in the gardens.  They are that big.  We were pretending to be Louis and Marie as we walked. And walked.  Remember I still have a sore leg; somehow my horse and carriage and bevy of slaves were not around to transport me from the main chateau to my Grand Trianon escape 2 miles away, and then to my Petit Trianon (which btw is not very petite – we should all be so lucky that our getaways from our getaway from our getaway from our getaway were so large).  It was foggy outside.  Our walk was imbued with a Grimm fairy tales quality, which was only magnified when we ended up wandering into a little peasant hamlet that Marie Antoinette apparently had installed on the grounds so she COULD PRETEND TO BE A PEASANT.  Or something like that.  She was bored, apparently.  She found it quaint and exotic, the peasant life.  Meanwhile the peasant houses were way nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in.  And let’s not forget this was a FAKE peasant village on palace grounds.  It was like a Disneyland peasant village.  Or Euro Disney, I should say.  Thank God we got out of there in one piece after I pretended to understand the directions of an ACTUAL peasant (did I just call someone a peasant? Day laborer, I should say, although M. says why is he a day laborer to you?  Are you being anti-immigrant?  No, I say, indignantly, in fact he looks very eighteenth century French blue (brown?)-collar — old, Franco-Caucasian, skinny — it’s just that the very notion of seeing an old man toiling so on palace grounds that are being kept up as a museum just seems to be the exact epitome of modern-day we-are-SO-the- ninety-nine percent/peasantry/serfdom – he just looks like he is, yes, laboring with his wheel barrow which he just wheeled out of a fake peasant barn, which makes one wonder whether he himself is a prop, although there is clearly real groundskeeping going on in order to keep this area so beautifully and rustically peasant-like for the point une percent — anyway, M., I am trying to get us out of hamlet hell and why are you accusing me of being Le Pen at this moment?).  (PS – we did not have this conversation I just made it up.)

So we got out of there and back to civilization.  The other thing I need to say about Versailles is, why all of the ante-rooms?  Every room seems to be a preparatory receiving anterior adjacent room for something next door that never happens.  I say, just quit preparing and get on with it.  Life is not an ante-room.  Maybe if these people had not been so busy preparing they would have been more successful and avoided the chopping block.  Ooh, I think I just had a mini-tourist/life epiphany.  Or maybe that was just an espresso high.  STRONG coffee, here, man.

Paris revisited

You may call me fortunate or unfortunate, depending on whether you are the one percent or the ninety-nine percent, but I seem to land in Paris about once a decade–not more, not less. I first visited in 1986 or thereabouts, as a high school sophomore. Or maybe it was the following summer. I’d convinced my parents to let me try out for a symphonic wind band. It was a group comprising 80 or so students from around the country. Tryouts were at the Roosevelt Hotel in Manhattan. I can’t tell you if the organizers nixed a slew of applicants or whether they took everyone whose parents could afford the hefty sum required to send their underaged kid on some fabricated tour of eight European nations. All I can say is that pretty much everyone in that band was a better musician than nearly anyone else in my high school, and that by some freak happenstance I was chosen as the concertmaster (substituting on flute for the lead violinist – this was a band, not an orchestra). This was one of two times in my life I realized I might have unrealized musical potential (the other time was when I was temporarily anointed principal flutist for a quasi-professional regional orchestra as a freshman in college – the honor didn’t last after a few rehearsals, when I flubbed my way through Stravinsky’s tricky Firebird Suite and was revealed to all as a fraud masquerading as a prodigy).

Anyway this is neither here nor there. This is about Paris. What was Paris, to a 16-year-old? It was pretty awesome! It was also entirely forgettable. I’d started drinking a lot of alcohol that year, and for whatever reason our eccentric adult organizers saw no reason to chaperone any of us properly through any of the nations we visited. I got blitzed in Paris. As a result I don’t remember it. At all. I got blitzed in the Loire Valley; I remember drinking alarming quantities of champagne after a concert at a fancy chateau and stumbling my way to my living quarters. I was even more blitzed in Chamonix, when I decided that I was in love with the principal bassoonist and resolved the entire evening to kiss her as we climbed the mountainous path behind our hotel toward a waterfall. Funny, the one thing I remember about her (Susan, I think her name was) is how lovely her bassoon-playing was. Hmm.

More on Paris anon . . .

The World Cup floweth over

Just a short shoutout about the women’s FIFA  soccer final, U.S. v. Japan.  What a great match!  Japan broke a 2-2 tie after penalty shots in double overtime.   The quality of play was phenomenal, and it was nice to see a full stadium in Germany and commensurate excitement in the U.S. and around the world.  I think the tournament represents a big advance in women’s team sports.  Who wouldn’t want to be Abby Wambach or Ayumi Kaihori today?  (PS – Kaihori was the standout goalkeeper during penalty shootout.  GO AYUMI!!!)

Harry Potter and the Hopelessly Fallow

Well that was a busy decade and a half!  Is this the 29th installment of HP out in the theater today?  True confession: I have seen precisely one-half of one Harry Potter film.  I have read zero pages out of 4,100 in the Rowling series. I have greeted the publication of each successive novel and the release of each new film with an increasing sense of dread.  It’s not unlike having a writing exercise turn into a term paper and then a thesis and then a dissertation.  Do I really want to start from the beginning, or should I just consign myself to the ranks of the culturally inattuned? There are multiple problems here.  First I don’t like to watch the movie on which books are based before reading the book. Second I don’t like watching sequels before the original. With HP these problems are multiplied times seven or eight. Sigh…..can’t wait for The Hobbit!

independence weekend

Happy freedom from tyranny day. When you get away from work you realize how hard it is still to negotiate the rest of your life. Wait, I’m not at work but I still feel like I’m working. Wait, I can sleep whenever I want but I still lack sleep. Wait, I’m happy to be around delicious food and my peeps but I’m still restless for  . . . nothing tangible. It’s not even unlocalized anxiety. Maybe it’s just trying to catch lightning in a bottle. You wait for brilliant moments in life. Then you look back and realize there were a hundred little brilliant moments that day. You didn’t see them because you were dreaming of that skydive off Half Dome or the amuse bouche on the Eiffel Tower. Or something like that. Or maybe not. OK restart blog.

At least there’s Wimbledon! Wow the Djoker sliced up Nadal like a mandolin. How often do you see Nadal looking like . . . Federer playing Nadal? My conclusion is that Djokovic’s backhand is actually better on non-clay surfaces than Nadal’s fearsome forehand. Just like Nadal’s forehand is better than Federer’s backhand on all surfaces. If I tried to move like the Djoker I’d break both my legs and fracture all my ribs. Anyway, well done Novak. Let’s also spare a thought for Andy Murray. Not only has Britain lost the Revolutionary War to these united states of America – but they also may yet go a century without a Brit winning Wimbledon. Maybe one year they should limit the players to Brits only.

On the women’s side, Petra Kvitova emerges from the curiously uninspiring next wave of women’s players. The whole Azarenka-Kvitova-Radwanska-Petkovic-Pavlyuchenkova (who?) thing isn’t really inspiring to me. When Petra won, I expected her to capture my heart. She didn’t. Her speech was boring. (How unfair to expect the Czech native to flirt with me in English.) Luckily her playing was inspiring all on its own. She mashed up Maria, whose serve has become more yippy than a Pekingese. She’s solid. She’s not going to break down. This is a good tennis player.

I am looking forward to the U.S. Open. I haven’t been in a number of years. I remember going every year for at least 4 or 5 years in the early ’80s and ’90s. After Ashe Stadium was built, not so much. Can we just agree that this stadium was a wretched architectural mistake and start over? It is so not fun watching tennis in that place. I’d rather they set up a Serena Slope or a Roddick Round outside and let us watch on the Jumbo-tron. Andy Murray is now my underdog favorite for the U.S. Open and every future Grand Slam until he wins. I like Na Li on the women’s side. It would also be nice to see Venus win one so she can retire (ain’t gonna happen). As for the other Americans? I dunno. I hope Mardy Fish makes the quarters at least. I don’t really care about Roddick anymore. I hope Oudin or some other young American gets to the fourth round. I would love for Serena to win, but I’m mentally trying to move on from the Williamses so I won’t feel the void when they’re gone from the game in a few years. Most of all, I hope the concessions aren’t wildly expensive! I refuse to buy a $10 cup of beer or a $20 tournament guide or a $35 T-shirt! OK maybe one or two.

Happy Summer everyone!

 

Wimby update

I am remiss. Wimby is almost over and I have yet to kvetch over what’s been going on. Maybe this is because I have actually seen precious few matches this year. It’s hard to comment on commentators’ comments. But I must and I shall.

Williamses go home. Such is their reputation for rising like a condor out of the caldera of injury that they had everyone fooled into thinking they could actually win. So it came as no surprise yet still a shock when they both lost on the same day in Round 4. Not a bad showing, but also not what we expect from our gals who have won 9 of the last 11 Wimby trophies. Methinks they will begin to struggle more now that they will both be in their 30s come September (can it be?). Unless your name is Martina no one seems to do well after 30. I see Serena winning one or two more Slams. I see Venus getting to one or two more Slam quarterfinals. Then we need to wait for someone else to step up. Could it be 15 y.o. Victoria Duval, in the girls’ semis?

Kvitova, Azarenka show their mettle. Both will be fixtures in the top 10 for years. I am so bored with their playing style, though, just as I am bored with Sharapova’s. It’s not fun watching wham-bam-shriek-double fault. Sharapova-Kvitova final?  Snooze. Sharapova’s reemergence at the top is a good story, but I don’t instinctively root for her. She is a haughty one. There’s no backstory that I can relate to. I am mildly supportive of her due to her comeback from injury. I could just as easily root for Kvitova, who has a decent shot if she forgets she’s on Centre Court playing the final against Sharapova and if she serves lights out.

Can Murray do it? For once I have a clear-cut favorite. I want the dude to win and end the 100-year British famine. He needs to get by Nadal tomorrow. It will take earth, wind and fire to do it. Nadal’s mopey fake injuries are beginning to grate on me. I find it hard to pick against Nadal because I think he has the much better chance of pulling through. But let’s pick Murray in 5 sets and see what happens.

Djoko-Tsonga. Tsonga’s letdown after beating Federer will happen. Djoko in 4. I like Tsonga, though. He’s fun. He makes me smile.

A Djoko-Murray final would guarantee a first-time Wimby winner. It would be really cool to see. Again, Murray in 5. I don’t have faith in my prediction, but one can hope.

Other assorted observations:

Go Fish. A quarterfinal result is decent. Could Fish get to top 5? He needs a U.S. Open semifinal result. He can do it. This is the year.

Roddick decline. See Federer. The best years are behind. It’s worse for Roddick, who not only has fallen outside of top 5 in serving effectiveness but is arguably outside the top 50 based on the rest of his game. Federer, at least, has flashes of top 3 brilliance (see Roland Garros semifinal) and is still the #3 pick to win most Grand Slams.

Ryan Harrison stock – I’m not buying. Don’t really enjoy watching him. He is not interesting. He has been a lucky loser getting into main draw at the last two Slams, so it’s still premature to anoint him the next American hope.

Raonic – stay tuned. He can do well with a good draw in the U.S. Open. Wimby injury was bad luck.

Tomic – the players will figure him out better, but his straight sets win over Soderling was astonishing. He’s a top 30 player for sure.

Querrey, Isner – if it hasn’t happened by now, it probably won’t. Moveon.org time.

Date-Krumm. Hope for all us 40-somethings. Boy did she rattle Venus!

Stosur. Where have ya gone, mate? If I had that serve I’d definitely take it to the bank.

Wozniacki. The lamentable #1. See Hingis, circa 2002. Time to upgrade in the strength department and start channeling Henin. Smaller people can win. See Cibulkova. She has to go for it and have a plan B when they are blowing you off the court.

omg luuuv the Tonys

ok call me gay but did anyone catch the Tonys last week?  NPH opening song!  NPH/Hugh Jackman duet! Harry Potter singing and dancing! War Horse amazing…. Great Mormon number….and the baaaad Spiderman duet – really bad – pathetically bad.  Sutton Foster in Anything Goes!  Perfection.  Norbert Leo Buz in Catch Me If You Can – who?  Wow he’s good.  You go Larry Kramer!  Memphis, again!  Stephen Colbert in Company – huh?  Love Side by Side number though.  Stroman choreographing Scottsboro Boys.  NPH again, closing “rap” # – he can do no wrong. I heart Broadway.

 

really?

Again: Isner draws Mahut in 1st round at Wimbledon

By CAROLINE CHEESE, AP Sports Writer 32 minutes ago

WIMBLEDON, England (AP)—The longest match rematch is coming to Wimbledon next week after John Isner and Nicolas Mahut were drawn Friday to face each other in the first round.

Last year, the pair played the longest match in tennis history at the All England Club, with Isner winning 6-4, 3-6, 6-7 (7), 7-6 (3), 70-68 in a first-round match that stretched over three days. An audible gasp followed Friday’s announcement, but laughter soon ensued.

“Isner vs mahut drawing each other in the first round after last year is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in tennis! Centre court anyone?!” fourth-seeded Andy Murray said on Twitter.

 

 

The lead singer for Journey is a Filipino

Arnel Pineda. Apparently for the past three years. Who knew?

This has prompted a frenzied Wikipedia search for other AA singers. Kelis? Really? Who else do you know?:

• Toshiko Akiyoshi, jazz pianist, composer/arranger, and bandleader
• Nadia Ali of the music group iiO
• Amerie R&B singers of today.
• Apl.de.ap (Lindo) of The Black Eyed Peas
• Jin Au-Yeung is credited as being a pioneer in the Asian American hip hop scene.
• Sameer Bhattacharya, One of two guitarists in the Texas alternative rock band Flyleaf.
• Cassie is an R&B singer.
• Angelin Chang Grammy Award winning pianist and renown music professor
• Jeff Chang is a music critic and historian of hip-hop culture.
• Jocelyn Enriquez
• Far East Movement aka FM first Asian-American group to be in the Top 10 in Mainstream POP charts.
• Ming Freeman Keyboardist,Pianist
• Matt Heafy is a guitarist and vocal of band Trivium.
• Magdalen Hsu-Li out bisexual Chinese American singer-songwriter recording artist, poet and artist.
• Chad Hugo
• William Hung is a contestant from American Idol
• Enrique Iglesias, has a Filipino mother, Isabel Preysler
• James Iha, formerly the guitarist of The Smashing Pumpkins
• Norah Jones, Musician, Grammy Award winner, daughter of Ravi Shankar.
• Tony Kanal, Two-time Grammy Award winner, bass player for No Doubt.
• Jeff Kashiwa, smooth jazz saxophonist
• Kelis, R&B singer
• Yo-Yo Ma renowned cellist
• Sanjaya Malakar, finalist from American Idol
• Bruno Mars singer-songwriter, music producer
• Zubin Mehta, Conductor, New York Philharmonic Orchestra.
• Dawn Xiana Moon, singer-songwriter, pianist, and guitarist (also arts and culture critic)
• Natalise, Burmese-Chinese singer
• Ne-yo superstar R&B singer.
• Seiji Ozawa Boston Symphony Conductor
• Paperdoll (band), Indie band from NYC fronted by Asian American Teresa Lee.
• Jay Park, a Korean-American singer, rapper, bboy & actor. Also famous in South Korea as the former leader of South Korean boyband 2PM.
• Mike Park was the singer of Skankin Pickle and currently runs Asian Man Records
• Mike Relm is a scratch video DJ who has toured with the Blue Man Group
• Mike Shinoda and Joseph Hahn are successful Asian Americans in the popular rap rock band Linkin Park.
• Vienna Teng, folk and pop singer-songwriter
• Kim Thayil, Guitarist for Grammy Award winning rock group Soundgarden
• Hikaru Utada, Japanese-American singer-songwriter active in both Japan and United States; her single Devil Inside topped the U.S. Billboard Dance Chart.