Wanting to hop on a Velib’ and cruise downhill to a museum, I scanned my Navigo which also contains my Velib’ pass. The scanner emitted a nasty “you’re wrong” noise as well as a red light. I tried my pass on several other bikes, all with the same results. Hmmmm. I’ve only had a happy relationship with Velib’- what could be wrong?

I slid my card on the main Velib’ database, and after entering my secret code, the screen showed that I owed 35,00 euros! What! How can that be? My last ride was nearly 10 minutes long, I couldn’t possibly owe anything. A closer look at my “history” showed that on the day of my 10-minute ride, the bike was checked out for 8 hours and 35 minutes. Uh oh…

This was the first time I felt that Velib’ had let me down. A bit saddened, I waited for bus #84 to come by to take me near the museum.

Later in the day, I called the Velib’ team to inquire about my situation. The man on the phone grilled me. “What day was your last trip on a Velib’? Where did you pick up the bike? Where did you drop it off?” He explained that after I thought I was finished with my trip, my velib carried on with travels unbeknownst to me, eight hours of secret travels to be exact, ending up only a few kilometers away, as if to mock me.

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Walking in the Chaillot quartier earlier this week, I was amazed by the design made by these chimney flues. Ramonage — sweeping of the chimney — is a requirement for having apartment insurance. The ramoneurs sure have their work cut out for them.
But it reminded me of a story told to me by a friend who lives not far from the Assemblée Nationale — a very swish neighborhood of Paris. A wealthy man who lives on the top floor in the building across the street from her has purchased all the roof chimneys of the residents of his building. No mean feat, and for a princely sum, to be sure. He will cap off the chimneys and install a rooftop garden, so in vogue in Paris these days.

Soulless chain restaurants are among the things we come to Paris to escape. But when French people vacation in America, it’s one of the things they love. At least, it’s what Pierre and Sophie love, friends of mine who are otherwise the sophisticated gastronomes you expect anyone born on Gallic soil to be. Visiting Los Angeles last week, they headed straight for the Cheesecake Factory as soon as their airplane landed. “It’s like Las Vegas or a movie set,” Pierre said of the restaurant’s brassy interior and marble staircase. He added, “We didn’t come here to see Montmartre.” Pictured: Sophie photographing the pastry case—just like Americans do in French boulangeries. Note the Victoria’s Secret shopping bag.

Dry cleaning costs a fortune here and so the only recourse for those items that absolutely must be dry cleaned is the franchise 5àSec where the prices are moderately bearable but the customer service is…well, let’s just say it leaves a lot to be desired. I spent a good 15 minutes waiting in line to drop off my items while the one clerk moved at the pace of molasses. The good news is that you pay in advance and pickup is fully automated. Actually it’s quite cool. The receipt has a bar code on it which you wave in front of a reader. This sends the rack of clean items into motion. When your items finally come around, a waist high glass door opens up and your items come off the rack and onto a hook for your retrieval.

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[Ed note: The name of the chain is a play on “cinq à sept,” slang for an affair, since those are often the evening hours in which such trysts take place]

Nelson’s Electric Chaircut is an interactive, electro-sonic, hair cut performance. After a brief consultation and the signing of a release form, volunteers are taped to the chair. Their eyes and mouth are also taped to symbolize the fetishism of appearance.

The volunteer’s hair is then cut by Nelson, the original master of electro-sonic hair design.

His various implements are amplified, scissors and clippers wired to effects pedals, slung round his waist, and blasted through an amplifier strapped to his back. The whacking haircutting sounds reverberates in a trance like cacophony of seemingly random patterns, as the true stylistic nature of the volunteer is released.

Originally conceived in San Francisco, Nelson’s Electric Chaircut has been performed world wide since 1989.

Cosmoson and Paris Experimental Sound present Nelson Loskamp and his Chaircut at La Bellevilloise, May 11th at 6pm. RSVP. If you’d like to volunteer for a chaircut, email here.

One of Paris’s best kept secrets is hidden in plain sight right in the middle of one of the busiest tourist areas of the Latin Quarter. The Pâtisserie Sud Tunisien is on rue de la Harpe. You can see the little blue and white corner building from the crosswalk that crosses the boulevard Saint Germain at the Cluny métro stop (at the intersection of bd St. Michel). What’s so special about it? You can get The Best Tuna Sandwich on the Planet here. Evidently it’s legendary and its reputation is growing by word of mouth. A friend of mine is always running into people who’ve had The Sandwich. I think it’s only a matter of time till this little Tunisian bakery is the most popular place in Paris.

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My friend, the Paris-based photographer and artist Ricardo Bloch, recorded me singing and playing my hit 1988 song “I Have A Car” the other day for his daily blog Amphibious Andromeda. I sing and play on day 287. Ricardo’s dog Puccini goes along for the ride. Give it a listen. Cheaper than gas.

Isn’t this Hermès apple purse (and knife) adorable? Yes. It IS small and restricted in its use (ONE apple or keys or condoms or credit cards or change or an iPod Nano…some other stuff) but if it were bigger it wouldn’t be as CUTE.

How to attract attention on France’s housing problems? By invading empty buildings and inviting the media to attend the operation! I happened to witness such a “commando action”, last Thursday, as I was walking around my neighborhood to take photos. The protesters managed to occupy a 5,000-sq-meter building (previously used by a school) and threatened the authorities to stay, just like they do at rue de la Banque (see this post and this one). Only this time the Police got them out a few hours only, after they got into the building. See the whole process in photos in this little video.

Paris weekend weather has been amazing lately and to catch some sun I decided to go to a park near my apartment. I expected the park to be flooded with people (as it always is when there’s even a tiny bit of sun). What I didn’t expect, because I forgot about this annoying French quirk, was for the grass to be resting. Those of you who live here or have visited know what I’m talking about - the signs that signal the grass is “en repos”, or in other words “Stay Off!”.

This is something that I still don’t understand. If the grass needs to rest when the weather is crappy – fine, but when it’s sunny and in the 70s the grass is meant to be enjoyed. The French are so strict about this that they even have grass police in some parks. I was having lunch in a well known, large park near the office (I was on a bench) when 2 women appeared blowing whistles and motioning to people who were lunching on the grass to get off. It’s times like these when I miss Seattle and it’s abundance of non-resting greenery.