Trying not to read too much into all this looking down.
Like everything else in the recent past, even the dregs of Snowpocalypse 2k17 seem impossibly remote.
So as you can see, everything more or less fell apart here. At any rate, here are a bunch of nice pictures from France without narration, because that would push the whole thing back even further.
So somebody has written a book that appears to address all of my interests. I hope it is translated into English soon.
I have arrived in Quercy. The travel day was made a bit more difficult by one of our party being delayed out of SF, which
created a rather dramatic knock-on effect that resulted in my hanging around the Toulouse area for about 9 hours. Nevertheless,
things are now totally wonderful.
While they aren’t quite as dramatic as the ones in Amsterdam, Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val does have canals.
In addition to the canals, Saint Antonin is along L’Aveyron, which you can watch wander along at this truly amazing riverside
Here is an aquatic cairn to memorialize people who have been pecked to death by ducks.
Also, the bar’s deck has this charming water feature.
We visited a charming abbey, and saw an interesting example of this medieval insulation technique.
The abbey’s interior courtyard was about as idyllic as the law allows.
This is the vault under which the monks made waffles.
These swans hissed at me, but made no move to attck. I guess swans have gotten the memo about my being a martial artist.
The famous “House of Wolves” in Caylus.
You probably haven’t heard of this portal.
Cool map of regional churches.
Before we begin: Today in things that sound like movie plots.
It has rained, at least briefly, every day that I’ve been here. It has made for some dramatic skies.
There’s still an hour of daylight to go, but it does seem as if today will break the streak.
Cool vestibule tiles.
Not as cool as a grill-boat, but nothing to sneeze at.
In general, the Dutch speak perfect English, this has not prevented them from getting in on the lucrative t-shirts-with-dumb-English-text-on-them market. On the other hand, I suppose that’s true of Americans as well.
No lie, I saw a guy wearing that exact shirt a block later.
Yesterday I went to ArtZuid with a couple of friends and a cool baby. Because it was a longish walk, we had to take a coffee break in the middle.
Here we are being a bit incredulous.
Here we are looking a bit more enthused.
Building with cool clock.
Building with cool windows.
This collection of lawn gnomes and plastic vermin speaks to man’s inhumanity to man.
Piet Kramer building. Here is a shot of its internal garden.
Here I am introducing the baby to piggyback rides.
Here he is trying to pull out my eyeball.
Here’s the tree and sky behind the apartment.
So apparently the neighborhood in which I’m staying is the Williamsburg ca. 1999 of Amsterdam. Consequently, on Thursday I started my day at a place called The Breakfast Club. Afterward, I kind of made a loop up to Centraal Station, and then back around to the apartment.
Important life goals: a boat that you go to for grilling.
While not as salient to my life as a boat with a grill on it, I found this pretty wonderful.
Brutalism is best.
Meter box (I think.)
Houses with loading hoooks.
I’m still sleeping pretty poorly, and I woke up feeling pretty groggy on Friday. I decided it would be comforting to have some staples, which did end up feeling pretty reassuring. Now I can just sort of lounge around all day if I’m so inclined and won’t have to go out for a kebab at 11 or something horrible like that.
On Friday evening I went here, which is apparently the ground zero of the area’s gentrification process. Being Friday evening, it was completely packed. For a while the only available table was on the top of a garbage can. Afterwards, we went to the trendy bar associated with this restaurant, which was pretty good, although substantially understaffed. Ladies in Amsterdam seem more into animal prints than ladies in other cities.
Currently my most pressing problem is that I forgot to pack any nail clippers. Signing off to wipe the blood from writing this post off my keyboard.
Learned two important things in the Willamette Week’s recent story about issues surrounding the use of the likeness of the Portlandia statue. The first is that the Expose Yourself to Art poster is a local product. The other is that the sculptor responsible for the statues, Raymond Kaskey, was a contributed to the DC World War 2 Memorial‘s status as one of the stupidest and most ironic pieces of public art in the world.
I have somehow ended up being the sort of person who is always doing all kinds of stuff. I’ve had a shocking dearth of evenings where I lay on my bed with my hand on my forehead and think about emptiness or whatever.
Here is a picture of C looking very maudlin, despite having some delicious pizza from Sizzle Pie.
Here are C and I goofing off with my camera’s lens cap.
If I look a bit like Rob Ford, it’s because I’d come back from class not so long before these were taken.
Here is C looking rawther dramatic.
Las weekend C and I decided riding the North Coast Scenic Railroad would be a fun day trip. We went to Girabaldi and discovered that our visit coincided with the town festival, Girabaldi Days. There was a little parade, but I didn’t get any pictures because we were at a little cafe eating turkey roasted on the premises. The train ride was charming. We were sad to have to come home, as we always are when we’ve been out at the coast.
This abandoned typewriter in Brontes speaks to man’s inhumanity to man.
In retrospect, I’m sort of sad that I didn’t take more pictures of it.
Man’s inhumanity to man aside, the coolest place we visited was probably Simiane la Rotonde, so called for its incredibly scenic old fortification.
Here are some (I’m fairly certain) non-funerary cairns in a field behind our villa.
Here are my feet on their way out of the countryside.
These Parisian benches, each possessing something the other lacks, speak to man’s inhumanity to man.