Named for the palace that no longer exists since succumbing to revolutionary forces of the Paris Commune, the Jardin des Tuileries stretches from the foot of the Louvre to the obelisk of Continue reading
You can always find a good notebook, that’s true enough… but are you brave enough to actually write in it?
I confessed that I didn’t know a lick about the game, other than how the pieces moved and their names, and then asked Joey if he wouldn’t mind explaining chess to me while we watched the match. Chess, he said – well, whispered – is all about playing to an end game.
Can I ask some fun-loving Filipino or Filipino American parents, in the spirit of tomorrow’s April Fools’ Day, to please hide a lavender- or pink-dyed balut in their Easter egg hunts today?
But this is Chicago in the middle of winter. There’s fucking nothing in season. Without modern highways, air freight, railroads, canning and other industrialized food processing techniques, refridgeration and chemical preservatives, no one could live here between September and May. I paid a little visit today to the Fulton Market, Chicago’s meatpacking district of old – from Upton Sinclair days – till now.
Taking the bus forces stumbling around a city, this breathing organism that one is simultaneously outside of as a visitor and yet temporarily a part of. You find things you weren’t looking for.
Layovers can be kind of like the travel version of the amuse bouche, just a little taste of something good to whet your appetite, arouse your interest and wonder what lovely ingredients and methods could have elicited such a good reaction.
And, oh, I would have loved to dress up for a night of opera or ballet at L’Opéra Garnier in Paris (also known as Le Palais Garnier)! As I was in Paris in late July/August, the only time when the performing arts takes a vacation, alas, “It was impossible,” as the French like to say. Le SIGH. I went anyway for a tour and I was very pleased that I did.