tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70478347634415439182024-03-14T06:25:31.059+11:00à pied dans les rues de Paris... flaneur du trottoir ...Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-28893559252466066892011-09-25T12:03:00.007+10:002011-09-25T14:56:41.121+10:0053. Jardin du Palais Royal<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VwAkQNpfz1A/Tn6NLGSh3nI/AAAAAAAAPu0/oHzjRaFXW7M/s1600/1%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG"><img style="float:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VwAkQNpfz1A/Tn6NLGSh3nI/AAAAAAAAPu0/oHzjRaFXW7M/s640/1%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656113403830328946"></a></td></tr></table><br />Maintenant, j’ai visitée Paris sur quatre occasions : Avril 2002 ; Octobre 2008 ; Septembre 201 ; et, Avril 2011. Mes amies disent à moi que je dois le savoir bien, mais ce n’est pas vrai. Je ne pense pas jamais je saurai Paris bien. Il y a de ma ville, Sydney, que je connais bien. Peut-être dix pour cent. Je visualiserais Sydney dans ma tête et je donnerais les directions détaillée, et les opinions informée bien. Je ne rêverais pas de faire l’un ou l’autre dedans Paris. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-42ZrLojvXhQ/Tn6MzPP6-NI/AAAAAAAAPus/X4qZi0SjmiE/s1600/2%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-42ZrLojvXhQ/Tn6MzPP6-NI/AAAAAAAAPus/X4qZi0SjmiE/s640/2%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656112993918449874"></a></td></tr></table><br />Pourtant, je commence trouver mon passage autour des parties de Paris. Dans mon quartier, je peux trouver mon passage aux pied sans carte. Je peux concevoir une voyage longe et complexe de métro. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tADDp_IfbqA/Tn6MyotCm5I/AAAAAAAAPuk/fIWpivNHgpk/s1600/3%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tADDp_IfbqA/Tn6MyotCm5I/AAAAAAAAPuk/fIWpivNHgpk/s640/3%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656112983571602322"></a></td></tr></table><br />J’ai les deux mes vols et mon appartement sont réservés pour le mai 2012.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OCe8e2vtOaM/Tn6MyrK-OGI/AAAAAAAAPuc/7kJAggU0Zu8/s1600/4%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OCe8e2vtOaM/Tn6MyrK-OGI/AAAAAAAAPuc/7kJAggU0Zu8/s640/4%2BPalais%2BRoyal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656112984234014818"></a></td></tr></table><br /><b>What I tried to say!</b><br /><br />I have now visited Paris four times: April 2002; October 2008; September 2010; and, April 2011. People say to me that I must know it well. This is not true. I do not think I will ever know Paris well. There are parts of my home-town, Sydney, that I know well. Perhaps 10%. I can visualise Sydney and give detailed directions and informed opinions. I would not dream to do either of Paris. However, I am beginning to be able to find my way around parts of Paris. I can devise a long and complex metro journey. In my own neighbourhood, I can find my way foot without a map. I have both flights and apartment booked for May 2012.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-40605022029566892492011-08-27T21:46:00.005+10:002011-09-01T06:52:18.737+10:0052. Au bord de La Seine<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yC6PtKyxphM/Tljb5FpPs1I/AAAAAAAAPfo/SsPvOjquqW8/s1600/1%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yC6PtKyxphM/Tljb5FpPs1I/AAAAAAAAPfo/SsPvOjquqW8/s640/1%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645503906723115858"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3f_G-PoL41A/Tlja9OYoPYI/AAAAAAAAPfg/SLYnBnTaZNE/s1600/2%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3f_G-PoL41A/Tlja9OYoPYI/AAAAAAAAPfg/SLYnBnTaZNE/s320/2%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645502878277188994"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eZWeygrr4SQ/Tlja89cZ_bI/AAAAAAAAPfY/VfmD4kqMUic/s1600/3%2BAu%2B%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eZWeygrr4SQ/Tlja89cZ_bI/AAAAAAAAPfY/VfmD4kqMUic/s320/3%2BAu%2B%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645502873729629618"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Je suspect ces scènes sont répétée chaque dimanche quand le ciel est bleu, le vent souffle, et le soleil est brillant. Personnes ensemble, dehors pour regarder chaque l'autre. En mouvement au bord de La Seine par tout méthodes – au pied, à la bicyclette, au scooter ou aux patins. Et quelquefois, dans le milieu du vert immense, une personne ne va pas n’importe où. Une personne qui aime le silence, et qui aime lire.
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<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tx_kLH0AQ2g/Tlja8q2xjJI/AAAAAAAAPfQ/WthL_9dmujA/s1600/4%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tx_kLH0AQ2g/Tlja8q2xjJI/AAAAAAAAPfQ/WthL_9dmujA/s640/4%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645502868739951762"></a></td></tr></table>
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<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QK07KD_JF3c/TljaE8IS0iI/AAAAAAAAPfI/_zY_wyas2gU/s1600/5%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QK07KD_JF3c/TljaE8IS0iI/AAAAAAAAPfI/_zY_wyas2gU/s320/5%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645501911304163874"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7mc7322vAEQ/TljaEh2_hXI/AAAAAAAAPfA/SvEbSc--JIQ/s1600/6%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7mc7322vAEQ/TljaEh2_hXI/AAAAAAAAPfA/SvEbSc--JIQ/s320/6%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645501904252274034"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XRkeSoG6qng/TljaEBmzzQI/AAAAAAAAPe4/_ZmDcK7YTWw/s1600/7%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XRkeSoG6qng/TljaEBmzzQI/AAAAAAAAPe4/_ZmDcK7YTWw/s640/7%2BAu%2Bbord%2Bde%2BLa%2BSeine.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645501895594462466"></a></td></tr></table>
<br /><b>What I was trying to say</B>
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<br />I suspect these scenes are repeated every Sunday when the sky is blue, the wind soft, and the sun shining. People together, out to be seen, and to watch. Moving along the edge of the Seine by whatever means possible, be it foot, bicycle, scooter, or skates. And, occasionally, out in the middle of a vast expanse of grass, a person not going anywhere. A person simply enjoying the silence, and reading.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-39343047165025959272011-08-19T21:00:00.000+10:002011-08-19T21:24:22.903+10:0051. Le parc des Buttes Chaumont<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uIdzUl734Kk/Tk26klszEAI/AAAAAAAAPZg/Ngkr00OfzGY/s1600/1%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uIdzUl734Kk/Tk26klszEAI/AAAAAAAAPZg/Ngkr00OfzGY/s640/1%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642371045923164162"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Comme j’ai dit sur mon blog de jour pendant ma vacances à Paris, mon but cette fois, était visiter des parcs et des cimetières, et voyager par métro des extrémités de Paris. Mes amie de classe de français (WEA) se a recommandée ce parc.
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<br />On était une distance longue par le métro des Métro Varenne à Métro Buttes Chaumont. J’ai voyagée par des gares de métro très délabrée au arrondissement dix-neuvième. Pourtant, il n’ai pas pris longtemps et a rempli avec des personnes merveilleux surveillance. J’ai changée des lignes à Place de Clichy (Ligne Treize envers Ligne Deux) et à Jaurès (Ligne Deux envers Ligne Sept).
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<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pr5-9CpyiiI/Tk26P7vXcdI/AAAAAAAAPZY/z2yEqjubKDg/s1600/2%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pr5-9CpyiiI/Tk26P7vXcdI/AAAAAAAAPZY/z2yEqjubKDg/s320/2%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642370691062264274"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIjaWbYEi20/Tk26PrRNZKI/AAAAAAAAPZQ/9D58FZLAPDk/s1600/3%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIjaWbYEi20/Tk26PrRNZKI/AAAAAAAAPZQ/9D58FZLAPDk/s320/3%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642370686640809122"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvqwIEul8Ok/Tk26Pd-OBQI/AAAAAAAAPZI/b539KP9Tx54/s1600/4%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gvqwIEul8Ok/Tk26Pd-OBQI/AAAAAAAAPZI/b539KP9Tx54/s640/4%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642370683071497474"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Le parc des Buttes Chaumont est une carrière du paysage. On est une carrière vieille qui est maintenant un parc. On est une colline avec un trou. Pourtant, le sommet de la colline a une vue, le versant a les forêts et les jardins, et la carrière est un lac avec les volailles. Quel plus pourraient demander !
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<br />Le sommet de la colline est le située de La Belvédère de Sybil. En la belvédère est une vue plus merveilleux de La Basilique du Sacré Coeur de Montmartre. On vaut la voyage juste de cette vue, surtout si vous allez pendant la après-midi tôt, quand le parc n’est pas pleine avec personnes.
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<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6UqARZQw7XE/Tk2438BtkJI/AAAAAAAAPZA/1V9IZXL2jYY/s1600/5%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6UqARZQw7XE/Tk2438BtkJI/AAAAAAAAPZA/1V9IZXL2jYY/s320/5%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642369179310723218"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oYP-3-K_Btg/Tk243epb5yI/AAAAAAAAPY4/Nqq6zqFY1ho/s1600/6%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oYP-3-K_Btg/Tk243epb5yI/AAAAAAAAPY4/Nqq6zqFY1ho/s320/6%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642369171424274210"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GXzjHxd11ug/Tk2412WsBKI/AAAAAAAAPYw/QXn2AFKg8JM/s1600/7%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GXzjHxd11ug/Tk2412WsBKI/AAAAAAAAPYw/QXn2AFKg8JM/s640/7%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642369143428351138"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Il y a un café (sous les cheminées), une charrette des glaces, et un guignol glorieux appelle ‘Le Guignol de Paris’. Le signe dit que séances sont en Mercredi et Samedi seulement, sauf pendant les vacances de scolaires et en jours des fêtes. Pourtant, vérifiez le lien et vous voyez il y a séances beaucoup dans le parc pendant Août qui est les vacances étés longues.
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<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wm4CcqYFmLM/Tk23jtO4XPI/AAAAAAAAPYo/HpiZcP81FfM/s1600/8%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wm4CcqYFmLM/Tk23jtO4XPI/AAAAAAAAPYo/HpiZcP81FfM/s320/8%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642367732230413554"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jIlxMV0eJ5Q/Tk23jZzEY9I/AAAAAAAAPYg/Sa07wKZPB9Q/s1600/9%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jIlxMV0eJ5Q/Tk23jZzEY9I/AAAAAAAAPYg/Sa07wKZPB9Q/s320/9%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642367727013487570"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--zXIO379NBs/Tk23i7_v5yI/AAAAAAAAPYY/gpHyToe6o4U/s1600/10%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--zXIO379NBs/Tk23i7_v5yI/AAAAAAAAPYY/gpHyToe6o4U/s640/10%2BButtes%2BChaumont.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642367719013607202"></a></td></tr></table>
<br /><b>What I tried to say!</b>
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<br />As I said on my daily blog during my holiday in Paris, my aim this time, was to visit parks and cemeteries, and to travel by metro to the extremities of Paris. A friend from the WEA French class recommended this park to me.
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<br />It was a quite a hike via the metro from Metro Varenne to Metro Buttes Chaumont. I travelled via some very dilapidated metro stations out to the 19th arrondissement. However, it did not take long and was filled with wonderful people watching. I changed lines at Place de Clichy (Line 13 to Line 2) and at Jaurès (Line 2 to Line 7).
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<br />Buttes Chaumont is a landscaped quarry. It is an old quarry that is now a park. It is a hillside with a hole. However, the top of the hill has a view, the slope of the hill has forests and gardens, and the quarry is a lake with water birds. What more could one ask!
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<br />The top of the hill is the site for the Belvedere of Sybil. From the belvedere is a most wonderful view of Sacre Coeur. It is worth the journey just for this view, especially if you go during the early afternoon when the park is not crowded.
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<br />There is a cafe (beneath the chimney pots) a travelling ice-cream cart and a glorious puppet house called ‘Le Guignol de Paris. The sign says that shows are only Wednesdays and Saturdays, except during school holidays and on Feast Days. However, check the link and you will see there are very many shows in the park during August which is the long summer holidays.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-83474750108786298672011-08-15T21:59:00.005+10:002011-08-16T19:35:35.308+10:0050. Solferino Ligne 12<table alin=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-50aZVd5fSTs/TkkQl-TtZjI/AAAAAAAAPVs/LPr3c-OF-9M/s1600/1%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-50aZVd5fSTs/TkkQl-TtZjI/AAAAAAAAPVs/LPr3c-OF-9M/s640/1%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641058252825126450"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Pendant ma visite à Paris en Mai cette année je suis allée partout en Metro. Mon premier matin , le femme au bureau de billet m'a vendu un billet jour très cher de Paris pour euros neuf. Le jour prochain. Je suis connu que demander :Un carnet, madame, s’il vous plaît ? C’est eu seulement euros douze pour dix billets, chaque valable pour quatre-vingt-dix minutes.
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<br /><table alin=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W__AVnj9p40/TkkQlmulamI/AAAAAAAAPVk/4PDr2r15KQs/s1600/2%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W__AVnj9p40/TkkQlmulamI/AAAAAAAAPVk/4PDr2r15KQs/s640/2%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641058246495398498"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Je suis voyagée nord, sud, est, ouest. Je suis changée les lignes. J’ai marchée beaucoup des tunnels. Je me suis senti sur lui. Le temps prochain je suis à Paris, je apprendrai aller par autobus, aussi.
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<br /><table alin=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E6sv-7l6EaU/TkkP00OWpcI/AAAAAAAAPVc/DnHbB4ErZcU/s1600/3%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E6sv-7l6EaU/TkkP00OWpcI/AAAAAAAAPVc/DnHbB4ErZcU/s640/3%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641057408304719298"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Metro Solferino est près du Seine et Le Assemblée Nationale, au début de Boulevarde Saint Germain. Aussi on est eu près de mon appartement en Rue de Bourgogne. Le tunnel à une extrémité a été marqué ‘Montmatre' . Le tunnel à l’autre extrémité a été marqué ‘Montparnesse’.
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<br /><table alin=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-719DD9BX0Kg/TkkP0j8A8fI/AAAAAAAAPVU/9FTuC7t0ubQ/s1600/4%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-719DD9BX0Kg/TkkP0j8A8fI/AAAAAAAAPVU/9FTuC7t0ubQ/s640/4%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641057403932832242"></a></td></tr></table>
<br /><b>What I tried to say</b>
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<br />During my visit to Paris in May this year, I went by Metro everywhere. On my first morning, the woman at the ticket office sold me a very expensive Paris Day ticket for E9. The next day I knew what to ask for: Un carnet, s’il vous plaît. This was only E12 for 10 tickets, each valid for 90 minutes.
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<br />I travelled north, south, east and west. I changed lines. I walked lots of tunnels. I felt on top of it. Next time I will learn to go by bus, too.
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<br />Solferino is down the Seine end of Blvd Saint Germain close to the National Assembly. It was also close to my apartment in Rue du Bourgogne. The tunnel at one end said Montmatre. The tunnel at the other end said Montparnesse.
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<br /><table alin=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVlfl8Fk9tc/TkkP0U1IGbI/AAAAAAAAPVM/VPJqCqJcptA/s1600/5%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVlfl8Fk9tc/TkkP0U1IGbI/AAAAAAAAPVM/VPJqCqJcptA/s640/5%2BSolferino%2BLigne%2B12.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641057399877409202"></a></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-14969199362694347432011-08-14T21:00:00.000+10:002011-08-14T21:48:46.854+10:0049. Le Chocolatier<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Ekfxm586c/TkeqS3MGCeI/AAAAAAAAPUU/GvAeVNmI-GA/s1600/2%2BChocolatier%2BParis%2BDay%2B24%2B-%2BMore%2B6eme%2Bplus%2BPantheon%2B023.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Ekfxm586c/TkeqS3MGCeI/AAAAAAAAPUU/GvAeVNmI-GA/s640/2%2BChocolatier%2BParis%2BDay%2B24%2B-%2BMore%2B6eme%2Bplus%2BPantheon%2B023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640664299333880290"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Les français prennent ce chocolat très sérieux. Oui, on peut acheter les blocs du chocolats dans le supermarché, mais souvent chaque petit quartier a un chocolatier.
<br />
<br />L’image au-dessus, est pré de mon carrefour favori, quand Rue Grenelle croise Rue du Bac, juste ouest du Boulevard Raspail, autant le sixième arrondissement devient le septième arrondissement.
<br />
<br />L’image au-dessus de, a pris pendant mon marche long haut et bas Montmartre, finalement nomade en bas Rue Caulaincourt du Cimetière Montmartre.
<br />
<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0vupIEVc5w/TkeqTFP7bDI/AAAAAAAAPUc/bj3955qJXWA/s1600/1%2BChocolatier%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BMontmatre%2B055.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0vupIEVc5w/TkeqTFP7bDI/AAAAAAAAPUc/bj3955qJXWA/s640/1%2BChocolatier%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BMontmatre%2B055.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640664303108058162"></a></td></tr></table>
<br /><b>What I tried to say!</b>
<br />
<br />The French take their chocolate very seriously. Yes, one is able to buy blocks of chocolate in the supermarkets, but often each small neighbourhood has a chocolatier.
<br />
<br />The top image is close to my favourite crossroads, where Rue Grenelle crosses Rue du Bac, just west of Boulevard Raspail, as the 6th becomes the 7th.
<br />
<br />The image below was taken during my long meander up and down Montmartre, eventually wandering down Rue Caulaincourt heading for the Montmartre cemetery.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-50124721861060482932011-08-13T20:00:00.000+10:002011-08-13T20:55:54.637+10:0048. Carrefour (1) - De la Croix Rouge<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-8LLZYszXk/Te4log4wlmI/AAAAAAAAOcs/3K6wLz2tzac/s1600/1%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-8LLZYszXk/Te4log4wlmI/AAAAAAAAOcs/3K6wLz2tzac/s640/1%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615467163330582114"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />C’est un carrefour m’occuper pour le jour entier. C’est si très fréquenté. Beaucoup personnes. Beaucoup scooters. Beaucoup bicyclettes. Et beaucoup voitures. Tous vont dans tant de différentes directions.
<br />
<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7F54OCZNS4A/Te4kr-dC_0I/AAAAAAAAOcU/xxtJwG4MMf4/s1600/4%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7F54OCZNS4A/Te4kr-dC_0I/AAAAAAAAOcU/xxtJwG4MMf4/s640/4%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615466123295391554"></a></td></tr></table>
<br />Je vient sur le carrefour parce que j’ai suivi la rue de Grenelle à l’intérieur profond septième arrondissement. La Carrefour de la Croix Rouge est l’intersection de :<blockquote>Rue de Grenelle
<br />Rue du Dragon
<br />Rue du Four
<br />Rue Sainte-Sulpice
<br />Rue de Cherche-Midi, et
<br />Rue de Sèvres.</blockquote>Il y a de très populaire les brasseries à cette carrefour, tout complet avec personnes absorbent le soleil.
<br />
<br />Sur une île dans l’intervalle Rue de Cherche-Midi et Rue de Sèvres est un cheval brut , métallique. C’est une statue. C’est très laid et éviter mieux.
<br />
<br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_HfEngECDk/Te4krcTQTlI/AAAAAAAAOcM/MJCBwqMqLZw/s1600/5%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_HfEngECDk/Te4krcTQTlI/AAAAAAAAOcM/MJCBwqMqLZw/s640/5%2BCroix%2BRouge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615466114127515218"></a></td></tr></table>
<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">This is what I tried to say:</span>
<br />
<br />This is a crossroad to occupy me for an entire day. It is so busy. So many people. So many scooters. So many bicycles. So many cars. All going in so many different directions.
<br />
<br />I came upon the crossroads by following Rue de Grenelle from deep within the 7eme. Carrefour de la Croix Rouge is the junction of;<blockquote>Rue de Grenelle
<br />Rue du Dragon
<br />Rue du Four
<br />Rue Sainte-Sulpice
<br />Rue de Cherche-Midi, and
<br />Rue de Sevres.</blockquote>There are some very popular brasseries at this crossroads, all full with people soaking up the sun.
<br />
<br />On an island between Rue de Sevres and Rue de Cherch-Midi, there is a gross, metal horse. It is a statue. It is very ugly and better avoided.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-23089846210338958962011-05-15T17:43:00.004+10:002011-05-15T18:43:08.313+10:0047. Pere Lachaise - la femme<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vmq1G0u1E5k/Tc-FWqmncnI/AAAAAAAAOKE/XAAhtxuW9fA/s1600/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B088.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vmq1G0u1E5k/Tc-FWqmncnI/AAAAAAAAOKE/XAAhtxuW9fA/s640/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B088.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606846685539431026"></a></td></tr></table><br />J’ai tournée et elle moi regarde J’ai sursautée. Elle a semblée réelle aussi, vivante aussi, Je ne demande pas sa nom, ou si je la aide. Elle moi regarde dans une attitude mélancolique.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bwWrx6fPNU4/Tc-FWUtVZaI/AAAAAAAAOJ8/wZedcATN8SE/s1600/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B089.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bwWrx6fPNU4/Tc-FWUtVZaI/AAAAAAAAOJ8/wZedcATN8SE/s640/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606846679662028194"></a></td></tr></table><br />Je ne sais pas qui elle a visitée ou si je la aide. Avant j’ai tournée le tournant, j’ai la donnée un geste timide. Elle continue moi regarder dans ce attitude mélancolique.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--wN7EcyqgHk/Tc-FWLWzbgI/AAAAAAAAOJ0/6wAZ4yrmwx4/s1600/3%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B090.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--wN7EcyqgHk/Tc-FWLWzbgI/AAAAAAAAOJ0/6wAZ4yrmwx4/s640/3%2BParis%2BDay%2B18%2B-%2BPere%2BLaChaise%2B090.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606846677151608322"></a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What I tried to say</span><br /><br />I turned around and she was looking at me. I jumped. She looked so real, so alive, I never did ask her name, or if there was something I could do to help her. She just looked at me in that wistful way. <br /><br />I did not know who she was visiting or who she belonged to. Before I turned the corner, I gave her a shy wave. She continued to look at me. Wistfully.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-13167215946923806892011-05-04T06:49:00.016+10:002011-05-05T19:44:27.814+10:0046. La porte appareil<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eXASswHW_5w/TcBt-nNScWI/AAAAAAAAOCk/S11X_oL3I0I/s1600/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B020.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eXASswHW_5w/TcBt-nNScWI/AAAAAAAAOCk/S11X_oL3I0I/s640/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602598858892931426"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TWB7liqEJe8/TcBtsjlltCI/AAAAAAAAOCc/1jNinH_rVJI/s1600/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B004.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TWB7liqEJe8/TcBtsjlltCI/AAAAAAAAOCc/1jNinH_rVJI/s320/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602598548683469858"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1P6C4VdjOVk/TcBtsNc37ZI/AAAAAAAAOCU/_3-HmlEuPH4/s1600/3%2BGood%2BFriday%2Bsunset%2B001.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1P6C4VdjOVk/TcBtsNc37ZI/AAAAAAAAOCU/_3-HmlEuPH4/s320/3%2BGood%2BFriday%2Bsunset%2B001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602598542741335442"></a></td></tr></table><br />Beaucoup des bâtiments à Paris sont construits avec un cour interne avec un entrée pavés à travers une porte externe et imposante. S’assurer que les piliers pierreux ne sont endommagé pas par les voitures qui entrent, ces appareils sont attachée de côté l’un et l’autre. Je ne sais pas que ils sont appelée.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55ZOOiwQbew/TcBtr-XsvKI/AAAAAAAAOCM/wjmg72Pm6ZI/s1600/4%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B084.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-55ZOOiwQbew/TcBtr-XsvKI/AAAAAAAAOCM/wjmg72Pm6ZI/s640/4%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B084.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602598538693098658"></a></td></tr></table><br />Beaucoup des appareils sont endommagé à travers les années. Beaucoup ne sont donnée pas du respect par les propriétaires bâtiment. Pourtant, quelques ministeries s'occupent de eux, mais ils emploi l’argent publique. Les appareils sont variée pendant les années, et ils deviennent maintenant plus fonctionnel et moins décoratif. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HDzjsO47pts/TcBsqxkXRqI/AAAAAAAAOCE/TELx_LOv5Y0/s1600/5%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B005.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HDzjsO47pts/TcBsqxkXRqI/AAAAAAAAOCE/TELx_LOv5Y0/s320/5%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602597418565060258"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kU6cusst1GA/TcBsqqmdYCI/AAAAAAAAOB8/Bgssg5dKBqk/s1600/6%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B009.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kU6cusst1GA/TcBsqqmdYCI/AAAAAAAAOB8/Bgssg5dKBqk/s320/6%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602597416694800418"></a></td></tr></table><br />Il y a deux exemples du motif lion Nemean dans ce récit. Les appareils rouge rond, pendant que attrayant, il n’a pas voulu cette intention très bien. Je n’ai pas vu un appareil comme ce, quelque part autrement que Paris. Peut-être, c’est dans des villes provinciales, aussi.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WcCBT8USu8U/TcBsqEF6-qI/AAAAAAAAOB0/EzeL9dyKVMM/s1600/7%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B059.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WcCBT8USu8U/TcBsqEF6-qI/AAAAAAAAOB0/EzeL9dyKVMM/s640/7%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602597406357781154"></a></td></tr></table><br />Je voulu connaître encore.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvUOEts3XM/TcBwXzmD7kI/AAAAAAAAOCs/g6XAfqX-nzI/s1600/8%2BParis%2BDay%2B27%2B-%2BArc%2Bde%2BTriomphe%2B236.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvUOEts3XM/TcBwXzmD7kI/AAAAAAAAOCs/g6XAfqX-nzI/s320/8%2BParis%2BDay%2B27%2B-%2BArc%2Bde%2BTriomphe%2B236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602601490738048578"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esNfAQ4X9pQ/TcBruCVW9nI/AAAAAAAAOBk/CeNwxfLBxuc/s1600/9%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B045.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-esNfAQ4X9pQ/TcBruCVW9nI/AAAAAAAAOBk/CeNwxfLBxuc/s320/9%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602596375093507698"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jdg_o-3DHmg/TcBrtW1NY5I/AAAAAAAAOBc/mV8PCan7MUo/s1600/10%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B016.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jdg_o-3DHmg/TcBrtW1NY5I/AAAAAAAAOBc/mV8PCan7MUo/s640/10%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602596363415937938"></a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Here is what I tried to say</span><br /><br />Many buildings in Paris are built with an internal courtyard with a cobble-stoned entryway through an imposing external gate. To ensure that the stone pillars of the gate are not damaged by vehicles entering, these devices are attached to both sides and each end. What they are called I do not know.<br /><br />Many have been damaged through the years. Many are not given any respect by building owners. However, some government departments look after them, but they are using public money. The designs have varied through the years, and are now becoming more functional and less decorative.<br /><br />The Nemean Lion motif can be seen here in two examples. The red round design, while attractive, would not serve its purpose very well. I have not seen this sort of device anywhere other than Paris. Maybe it is used in French provincial towns, too. <br /><br />I would like to know more.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-82363138100684886182011-05-01T04:48:00.014+10:002011-05-01T08:05:56.828+10:0045. L'Hopital des Invalides<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7Gd0JkpdTA/Tbxm7cYooSI/AAAAAAAAN-I/XpuWm5XKc_8/s1600/1%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7Gd0JkpdTA/Tbxm7cYooSI/AAAAAAAAN-I/XpuWm5XKc_8/s640/1%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601465207959888162"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><iframe width="640" height="480" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com.au/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=Rue+Descartes,+Paris,+France&aq=2&sll=-25.335448,135.745076&sspn=56.772803,135.263672&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Rue+Descartes,+75005+Paris,+Ile-de-France,+France&t=f&ecpose=48.85200696,2.31248595,643.46,-0.038,44.965,0&ll=48.857453,2.312481&spn=0.006777,0.013733&z=16&output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com.au/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=Rue+Descartes,+Paris,+France&aq=2&sll=-25.335448,135.745076&sspn=56.772803,135.263672&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Rue+Descartes,+75005+Paris,+Ile-de-France,+France&t=f&ecpose=48.85200696,2.31248595,643.46,-0.038,44.965,0&ll=48.857453,2.312481&spn=0.006777,0.013733&z=16" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_qJZxo2ZQ0/TbxmhO_64xI/AAAAAAAAN-A/5vgRmq5e7LM/s1600/2%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7_qJZxo2ZQ0/TbxmhO_64xI/AAAAAAAAN-A/5vgRmq5e7LM/s320/2%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601464757689967378"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xce8SK77pfQ/Tbxmg47ZWeI/AAAAAAAAN94/x9mg0wbxWdY/s1600/3%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xce8SK77pfQ/Tbxmg47ZWeI/AAAAAAAAN94/x9mg0wbxWdY/s320/3%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601464751765412322"></a></td></tr></table><br />L’Hôpital des Invalides ont les raisons trois être. Il est l’hôpital réparer les soldats blessé. En Australie, lui appelons un hôpital ‘repatriation’. Il est le musée pour L’Armée Français. Et il est le tombe du L’Empereur, Napoleon Bonaparte. On n’aime pas par non plus les républicains ou les démocrates.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-THigH0ME89g/TbxmgY3ba6I/AAAAAAAAN9w/av7tW8L3TmE/s1600/4%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-THigH0ME89g/TbxmgY3ba6I/AAAAAAAAN9w/av7tW8L3TmE/s640/4%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601464743158836130"></a></td></tr></table><br />La cour principale est a l’intérieur de la façade imposante en face de La Seine. Regardez le plan et vous voyez il entoure les bâtiments avec les colonades long. Ce est le musée. Dans le cour est un étalage de l’artillerie que est fait au dix-septième siècle.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OGf4mRBEqOQ/TbxkomDJqII/AAAAAAAAN9o/7x4cxA6DEpw/s1600/5%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OGf4mRBEqOQ/TbxkomDJqII/AAAAAAAAN9o/7x4cxA6DEpw/s320/5%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601462685113362562"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NIBpBJMvjbk/TbxkoaEO-gI/AAAAAAAAN9g/WdVZSd8Qyik/s1600/6%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; ;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NIBpBJMvjbk/TbxkoaEO-gI/AAAAAAAAN9g/WdVZSd8Qyik/s320/6%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601462681896679938"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vn2bpiBzCe0/TbxkoKZ8SNI/AAAAAAAAN9Y/E_nFLtCuVhg/s1600/7%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vn2bpiBzCe0/TbxkoKZ8SNI/AAAAAAAAN9Y/E_nFLtCuVhg/s640/7%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601462677692762322"></a></td></tr></table><br />Ce canon les livres vingt quatre, a dessiné de M. Jean Maritz et son fils dans dix-sept cent et quatorze huit. Le bouton de culasse est un lion Nemean. La héraldique représente l’escutcheon du Roi et du Maître Grand d’Artillerie. C’est l’arme du L’Empereur dans son les campagnes au début mais qui font son armée lente au dix-huit douze en La Russie. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/---gYMBi5AHY/TbxjZT5taMI/AAAAAAAAN9Q/-kwPREVgo_Q/s1600/8%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/---gYMBi5AHY/TbxjZT5taMI/AAAAAAAAN9Q/-kwPREVgo_Q/s320/8%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601461323032258754"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z2z22RmfEIg/TbxjZKf4_HI/AAAAAAAAN9I/GrVYhG-GmCs/s1600/9%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z2z22RmfEIg/TbxjZKf4_HI/AAAAAAAAN9I/GrVYhG-GmCs/s320/9%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601461320508046450"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPTHgoYW9Lc/TbxjY3kOVaI/AAAAAAAAN9A/Oa8bVi0iRwc/s1600/10%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPTHgoYW9Lc/TbxjY3kOVaI/AAAAAAAAN9A/Oa8bVi0iRwc/s640/10%2BDes%2BInvalides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601461315425949090"></a></td></tr></table><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Here is what I tried to say</span><br /><br />Des Invalides has three reasons for being. It is the hospital to repair injured soldiers. In Australia, it is called a ‘Repatriation Hospital’. It is the museum for the French army. And it is the tomb for Napoleon Bonaparte I, Emperor of France, and not a friend of republicans or democrats.<br /><br />The main courtyard is within the imposing facade that faces the Seine. Look at the map and you see it surrounded by long building colonnades. This is all part of the museum. In the courtyard is a display of artillery made in the 17th century.<br /><br />This 24 pound gun was designed by Jean Maritz and his son in 1748. The breech knob is a nemean lion. The heraldry shows the escutcheons of the King and the Grand Master of Artillery. It is the type of weapon used by Napoleon in his early campaigns but which slowed his army to its destruction in 1812.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-86292699255111865612011-04-23T06:32:00.012+10:002011-04-23T20:18:29.229+10:0044. Les fenetres - comme ci comme ca<tABLe align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="hAttp://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9Y7LBbgUY0/TbHr9SlWH8I/AAAAAAAAN1A/erKN8nB_J2U/s1600/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B030.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9Y7LBbgUY0/TbHr9SlWH8I/AAAAAAAAN1A/erKN8nB_J2U/s640/1%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B030.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598515249991262146"></a></td></tr></table><br />C’est beaucoup ècrire des fenêtres et des portes à Paris. Bien sûr! Ils ont très belles.<br /><br /><tABLe align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O0O8nvnxQBY/TbHrrna6s8I/AAAAAAAAN00/HOdbBadd7lE/s1600/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B14%2BJardins%2Bde%2BLuxembourg%2B075.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O0O8nvnxQBY/TbHrrna6s8I/AAAAAAAAN00/HOdbBadd7lE/s320/2%2BParis%2BDay%2B14%2BJardins%2Bde%2BLuxembourg%2B075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598514946347021250"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9R4igyV1PU4/TbHrrAcnlFI/AAAAAAAAN0s/HUHmBFqAQ_w/s1600/3%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B007.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9R4igyV1PU4/TbHrrAcnlFI/AAAAAAAAN0s/HUHmBFqAQ_w/s320/3%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598514935885173842"></a></td></tr></table><br />Voici ont des fenêtres ils ont beauté à mon oeil. L’age peut avoir beauté. La mesquinerie peut avoir beauté, aussi.<br /><br /><tABLe align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6rMscuFZZzI/TbHpYsuQ0xI/AAAAAAAAN0c/3k3Q5X0k2kI/s1600/5%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B079.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6rMscuFZZzI/TbHpYsuQ0xI/AAAAAAAAN0c/3k3Q5X0k2kI/s640/5%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B079.JPG" border="0" {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefullyalt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598512422329570066"></a></td></tr></table><br />La photographie est un métier très patiente. J’attend pour ce moment faire l’image vibrante.<br /><br /><tABLe align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-svFXHJSdHzo/TbHnomVK_jI/AAAAAAAAN0E/B2V9WiuJcLE/s1600/8%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B010.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-svFXHJSdHzo/TbHnomVK_jI/AAAAAAAAN0E/B2V9WiuJcLE/s320/8%2BParis%2BDay%2B13%2BBabylone%2B010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598510496468368946"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QWPchgE8WXU/TbHnojdF11I/AAAAAAAANz8/QpPOe5VPozc/s1600/9%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B054.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QWPchgE8WXU/TbHnojdF11I/AAAAAAAANz8/QpPOe5VPozc/s320/9%2BParis%2BDay%2B22%2B-%2BRue%2Bde%2BGrenelle%2B054.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598510495696279378"></a></td></tr></table><br />L’homme fait cette l’histore vivre. Est-ce que vous reconnaissez? Il a un beauté dynamique.<br /><br /><tABLe align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bdecwk_y8Go/TbHnoFUgyjI/AAAAAAAANz0/a5xFneS_-Ac/s1600/10%2BDay%2B19%2B-%2BRive%2Bdroit%2B044.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bdecwk_y8Go/TbHnoFUgyjI/AAAAAAAANz0/a5xFneS_-Ac/s640/10%2BDay%2B19%2B-%2BRive%2Bdroit%2B044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598510487607233074"></a></td></tr></table><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Translation</span><br /><br />There is a lot written about the windows and doors of Paris. Of course! They are very beautiful.<br /><br />Here are some windows that are beautiful to my eye. Age can be beautiful. Shabbiness can be beautiful.<br /><br />Photography is a very patient craft. One must wait for that one moment that makes an image come alive.<br /><br />I arranged this story around the image of the man. He adds a dynamic beauty. Don't you agree.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-91707852259733662262011-04-16T18:44:00.013+10:002011-04-17T05:01:20.235+10:0042. Les petits magasins du mon quartier<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHmDl38sr0o/TalcSJWKrzI/AAAAAAAANqU/FPmM6IzpzE8/s1600/1%2Bmagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHmDl38sr0o/TalcSJWKrzI/AAAAAAAANqU/FPmM6IzpzE8/s640/1%2Bmagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596105478800846642"></a></td></tr></table><br />Je suis allée à Le Bon Marche Rive Gauche près de Metro Sévres-Babylone le jour autre. C’est vraiment aussi un centre-commercial avec la marque styliste. J’aime rien ces magasins! Je suis sorti vite!<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--MMig_GYcdY/TalcBjycRjI/AAAAAAAANqM/fegad5Ytkxo/s1600/2%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--MMig_GYcdY/TalcBjycRjI/AAAAAAAANqM/fegad5Ytkxo/s640/2%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596105193840985650"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VR1-oeuPW7I/TalcBlg3olI/AAAAAAAANqE/BK7p0-hRGfg/s1600/3%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:handi;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VR1-oeuPW7I/TalcBlg3olI/AAAAAAAANqE/BK7p0-hRGfg/s640/3%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596105194304152146"></a><br /></td></tr></table><br />Je préfère les magasins dans ces photographies. Les magasins petits comme ceci ils s’appelent ‘ribbon development’ ou ‘high street’. Ces photographies sont dans le sixième et le septième arrondissements. Ils sont dans La Rue Cler, La Rue de Grenelle, La Rue de Varenne et La Rue du Bac. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vAFRDD9zR2w/TalcBISuhhI/AAAAAAAANp8/sdddE2vr2go/s1600/4%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vAFRDD9zR2w/TalcBISuhhI/AAAAAAAANp8/sdddE2vr2go/s640/4%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596105186460206610"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dcLHi2PFlag/TalbIV9FhMI/AAAAAAAANp0/oz3R9OG-K78/s1600/5%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dcLHi2PFlag/TalbIV9FhMI/AAAAAAAANp0/oz3R9OG-K78/s640/5%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596104210874991810"></a></td></tr></table><br /> ‘Stylo Bac’ vende le stylo. Je vois les gens qui écrivent avec un stylo dans le parc ou dans le train ou dans la café. Ils travaillent les mots croisés ou le Sudoku. Je s’apprend le mot croisé énigmatique. C’est très difficile. Très, très difficile. Je suis lente. Je bois le vin rouge. Je suis lente encore!<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YWxPBEupfSk/TalbIMOfC7I/AAAAAAAANps/vVpOrPkH6Dc/s1600/6%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YWxPBEupfSk/TalbIMOfC7I/AAAAAAAANps/vVpOrPkH6Dc/s640/6%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596104208263613362"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICVfv5QfEWc/TalbH1KcX2I/AAAAAAAANpk/-0Ke9tp4gLA/s1600/7%2BMagasin.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICVfv5QfEWc/TalbH1KcX2I/AAAAAAAANpk/-0Ke9tp4gLA/s640/7%2BMagasin.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596104202072645474"></a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The little shops in my neighbourhood</span><br />I went to Bon Marche on the Left Bank close to the Sevres-Babylone metro the other day. It is really just a shopping mall with designer labels. I never like these shops. I left quick!<br /><br />I prefer shops in these photographs. Little shops like these are called ‘ribbon development’ or ‘high street’. These photographs are in the sixth and seventh districts. They are in Rue Cler, Rue de Grenelle, Rue de Varenne and Rue du Bac.<br /> <br />‘Stylo Bac’ sells fountain pens. I see people writing with fountain pens in parks, in trains, and in coffee shops. They are working the crosswords or the Sudoku. I teach myself cryptic crosswords. It is very difficult. Very, very difficult. I am slow. I drink red wine. I am more slow!Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-62248779858279525072011-04-08T21:36:00.015+10:002011-04-09T04:35:02.141+10:0041. Bons cieux!<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0yhCKQtS8Po/TZ7_KmHTpNI/AAAAAAAANh8/D_6pmU9i69Y/s1600/4%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0yhCKQtS8Po/TZ7_KmHTpNI/AAAAAAAANh8/D_6pmU9i69Y/s640/4%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593188344735704274"></a></td></tr></table><br />Donc, encore une cimeterie. C’est tragique, je sais. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAGHRVnjF-A/TZ7_bWUaDZI/AAAAAAAANiU/x5Vl2VfrPSI/s1600/1%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAGHRVnjF-A/TZ7_bWUaDZI/AAAAAAAANiU/x5Vl2VfrPSI/s640/1%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593188632553459090"></a></td></tr></table><br />La conversation elle est allée donc:<blockquote>‘Excusez-moi, madame. Il y a une femme là-bas. Elle était enterré ce matin. Est-ce que vous savez sa réputation? Il y a beaucoup fleurs à Le Presidente de la Republique. Ils sont tres belles et ils ont beaucoup le parfum.’</blockquote>Pourtant, elle ne sais pas, mais avec sa mère, elles traînent là-bas voir. Je les parlait ce matin plus tôt, à la tombe d’autre femme avec beaucoup les fleurs.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TKl09Skqlz0/TZ79mX2_M0I/AAAAAAAANhk/I_qBrzzf6Qk/s1600/7%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TKl09Skqlz0/TZ79mX2_M0I/AAAAAAAANhk/I_qBrzzf6Qk/s640/7%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593186622922240834"></a></td></tr></table><br />Le cimeterie de Montparnesse est très beau et avec beaucoup l’amour. Et avec beaucoup la vie. Les tombes sont creusé. Les tombes sont lavé. Les fleurs sont arrosé. <br /> <br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lr4CG4JVESM/TZ7_LJJTWRI/AAAAAAAANiM/66SRdBZ978Q/s1600/2%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lr4CG4JVESM/TZ7_LJJTWRI/AAAAAAAANiM/66SRdBZ978Q/s320/2%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593188354139314450"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZbhRoniO1s/TZ9UR2nW2uI/AAAAAAAANic/tC2UfJia_xw/s1600/3%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZbhRoniO1s/TZ9UR2nW2uI/AAAAAAAANic/tC2UfJia_xw/s320/3%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593281927912544994"></a></td></tr></table><br />Les vieux marchent. Les vieux s’asseyent. Et attendent. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwTtLvkSs-k/TZ79moWm3MI/AAAAAAAANh0/oPuO3XGeBeA/s1600/5%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwTtLvkSs-k/TZ79moWm3MI/AAAAAAAANh0/oPuO3XGeBeA/s320/5%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593186627349830850"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FQrVfwmeiKc/TZ79mWkJ_vI/AAAAAAAANhs/e92eZI2IzEU/s1600/6%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FQrVfwmeiKc/TZ79mWkJ_vI/AAAAAAAANhs/e92eZI2IzEU/s320/6%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593186622574821106"></a></td></tr></table><br />La voyageuse - c'est moi - observe en le silence.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-897ScKRLV3A/TZ78rajEaUI/AAAAAAAANhc/Iwma1qgI55A/s1600/8%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-897ScKRLV3A/TZ78rajEaUI/AAAAAAAANhc/Iwma1qgI55A/s320/8%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593185610031720770"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mu2dvzeWxcg/TZ78rLSqBQI/AAAAAAAANhU/WDLksI_QFFU/s1600/9%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mu2dvzeWxcg/TZ78rLSqBQI/AAAAAAAANhU/WDLksI_QFFU/s320/9%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593185605936350466"></a></td></tr></table><br />So - another cemetery. Tragic, I know!<br /><br />The conversation went thus:<br />Madame, there is a woman over there, who was buried this morning. Do you know who she was? There are flowers from The President of the Republic. They are very beautiful and very fragrant.<br /><br />Madame did not know but, with her mother, shuffled over to see. I had spoken to her earlier that morning at the grave of another woman with many beautiful flowers.<br /><br />Montparnesse Cemetery is very beautiful and full of love. And full of life. Graves being dug. Graves being washed. Flowers being watered. Old people walking. Old people sitting. And waiting.<br /><br />The traveller - me - watches in silence.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" ="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yrjdFR1pbYY/TZ78q3AK5dI/AAAAAAAANhM/v9eAbbHsfgg/s1600/10%2BMontparnesse.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yrjdFR1pbYY/TZ78q3AK5dI/AAAAAAAANhM/v9eAbbHsfgg/s640/10%2BMontparnesse.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593185600490104274"></a></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-92025380716320157442011-04-04T17:30:00.013+10:002011-04-05T18:29:10.722+10:0040. Je suis un cimetiere tragique!<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWObzXuc0Fs/TZl2wym0IoI/AAAAAAAANeY/xDy71Ou1GcQ/s1600/1%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWObzXuc0Fs/TZl2wym0IoI/AAAAAAAANeY/xDy71Ou1GcQ/s640/1%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591630992947552898"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbw8NjSTnVE/TZl2LiO7QqI/AAAAAAAANeQ/IcpFXrCxUGg/s1600/2%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbw8NjSTnVE/TZl2LiO7QqI/AAAAAAAANeQ/IcpFXrCxUGg/s320/2%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591630352897229474"/></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cNRZe9-Q_gQ/TZl2LbkSbtI/AAAAAAAANeI/4L_yTgAFbzs/s1600/3%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cNRZe9-Q_gQ/TZl2LbkSbtI/AAAAAAAANeI/4L_yTgAFbzs/s320/3%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591630351107780306"></a></td></tr></table><br />Quand je suis dans une ville etrange, j’aime visiter un cimetiere. Je trouve m’aide connecter avec le temps, autrefois. Les cimetieres sont les endroits de la solitude et la réflexion. Pourtant, les gens ne enterrent pas dans le terre maintenant, mais ils incinérent.<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWetswhHc50/TZl2LCSSUPI/AAAAAAAANeA/JlDObM5Pl3Y/s1600/4%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWetswhHc50/TZl2LCSSUPI/AAAAAAAANeA/JlDObM5Pl3Y/s640/4%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591630344321388786"></a></td></tr></table><br />En La Cimeterie de Passy, de l’autre côté de La Seine à La Tour Eiffel, il y a rien les tombes nouvelles. Mais, les gens sont enterres avec leurs l’ancêtres. Je t’aime ce le fil argent avec le temps autrefois ...<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-29RzIeow-NE/TZl1MQ6VW4I/AAAAAAAANd4/L2WJRP_DT8g/s1600/5%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-29RzIeow-NE/TZl1MQ6VW4I/AAAAAAAANd4/L2WJRP_DT8g/s320/5%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591629265915698050"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHOLHAKiDLQ/TZl1MNzlWJI/AAAAAAAANdw/OEs2qqEUvr0/s1600/6%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHOLHAKiDLQ/TZl1MNzlWJI/AAAAAAAANdw/OEs2qqEUvr0/s320/6%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591629265082079378"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YzgtIB7gXDc/TZl1L54uSTI/AAAAAAAANdo/eNkXne9aJ-Q/s1600/7%2BPassy.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YzgtIB7gXDc/TZl1L54uSTI/AAAAAAAANdo/eNkXne9aJ-Q/s640/7%2BPassy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591629259734927666"></a></td></tr></table><br />Translation- I am a cemetery tragic!<br /><br />When I am in a foreign city, I like to visit a cemetery. I find it helps me to connect with the past. Cemeteries are placs of solitude and reflection. However, people are not buried in the ground now, but are cremated.<br /><br />In Passy Cemetery, across The Seine from The Eiffel Tower, there are no new plots. But people are interred with their ancestors. I like that silver thread with the past ...Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-69776399449401911742011-04-02T22:21:00.012+11:002011-04-04T17:27:09.599+10:0039. Je m'inquiete (je mets a jour)<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jP9E2Hkp_j8/TZcMmIuT2NI/AAAAAAAANcQ/TNTyeSH10XM/s1600/1%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jP9E2Hkp_j8/TZcMmIuT2NI/AAAAAAAANcQ/TNTyeSH10XM/s640/1%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590951311720044754"></a></td></tr></table><br />Ce matin, je suis allée à La Saxe Marché. Il a eu très facile. Vous tournez à gauche à Le Musée Rodin, traversez Le Blvd des Invalides, tournez à droit traverser face de Les Invalides, tournez à gauche promenade L'Avenue de Ségur à L'Avenue de Saxe. Dix minutes à pied. <br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-44xrea1X_jQ/TZcMRa8i1zI/AAAAAAAANcI/a9_fRJYrkIE/s1600/2%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-44xrea1X_jQ/TZcMRa8i1zI/AAAAAAAANcI/a9_fRJYrkIE/s320/2%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590950955834332978"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gaCuIAEDLNU/TZcMRIs72pI/AAAAAAAANcA/SGRDSOiLHBA/s1600/3%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gaCuIAEDLNU/TZcMRIs72pI/AAAAAAAANcA/SGRDSOiLHBA/s320/3%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590950950937025170"></a></td></tr></table><br />J'ai froid parce que je n’ai pas porte mon manteau – le soleil me braquer sur moi. J’ai achete un bag étoffe pour une euro, alors avec ma courage tout, j’ai demandé en francais pour:<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--6IYA2mFtOI/TZcMQs3YMjI/AAAAAAAANb4/Qda_fK4hStU/s1600/4%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--6IYA2mFtOI/TZcMQs3YMjI/AAAAAAAANb4/Qda_fK4hStU/s640/4%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590950943464632882"></a></td></tr></table><blockquote>Une poire (Williams)<br />Cinq les champignons<br />Deux les tartes portuguese<br />Une petite baguette<br />L'Oeuffs - un demi-douzaine, et<br />Des fraises.</blockquote><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e4L-skl5ck0/TZcK3bTMd8I/AAAAAAAANbw/F2Za06CG3L4/s1600/5%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e4L-skl5ck0/TZcK3bTMd8I/AAAAAAAANbw/F2Za06CG3L4/s320/5%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590949409741109186"></a></td><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Bh14YGCnmE/TZcK3EPVXJI/AAAAAAAANbo/kkjeKG9uD0g/s1600/6%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Bh14YGCnmE/TZcK3EPVXJI/AAAAAAAANbo/kkjeKG9uD0g/s320/6%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590949403550899346"></a></td></tr></table><br />Ça me coûte treize euros soixante quatre. Alors, je suis allée à ma maison - vite!<br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FEZjPg_M8U0/TZcK3A5lPrI/AAAAAAAANbg/iln8RaYYj34/s1600/7%2BSaxe.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FEZjPg_M8U0/TZcK3A5lPrI/AAAAAAAANbg/iln8RaYYj34/s640/7%2BSaxe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590949402654359218"></a></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-12939417550122274152011-01-10T09:16:00.000+11:002011-01-10T21:36:12.145+11:0038. Après Willy Ronis – Le chaland sans l’enfants<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TSl5QslbnqI/AAAAAAAAMgY/_oXSAJn2E-M/s1600/38%2B-%2B1.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TSl5QslbnqI/AAAAAAAAMgY/_oXSAJn2E-M/s640/38%2B-%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560108542718615202"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Ronis a pris son image dans dix-neuf cent cinquante-neuf et j’ai pris mon image dans vingt cent dix. Ma l’image a été prise de Pont Alexandre III semblant est vers Pont de la Concorde avec le Louvre dans l'arrière-plan. Mon chaland, `Ardelle', est chargé avec le sable. Ronis a un spectacle beau de La Seine, mais son photograph est précieux parce que de les deux petit garcons ils jouent dans le chaland. Que est il avec ils jouent ? Peut-être il est les roues de un vieux landau.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>My photograph was taken looking east from the Pont Alexandre III looking toward Pont de la Concorde with the Louvre in the background. My barge, Ardelle, is loaded with sand. Ronis has a wonderful view of the Seine, but his photograph is precious because of the two little boys playing in the barge. What are they playing with? Perhaps it is the wheels from an old pram?</td></tr></table><br /><br /><table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TSq7495_I4I/AAAAAAAAMhM/W_ds4awqRKU/s1600/Ronis%2B-%2BBarge%2Bwith%2BChildren%2B%25281959%2529.jpg"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TSq7495_I4I/AAAAAAAAMhM/W_ds4awqRKU/s400/Ronis%2B-%2BBarge%2Bwith%2BChildren%2B%25281959%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560463277307143042"></a></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-73039510958430634172010-12-21T04:35:00.004+11:002010-12-21T05:49:26.006+11:0037. Place de la Sorbonne<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQ-UWYIBfFI/AAAAAAAAMNY/RDTA2ijDUzU/s1600/37..JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQ-UWYIBfFI/AAAAAAAAMNY/RDTA2ijDUzU/s640/37..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552819977725246546"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Le Boulevard Saint-Michel est un beau chemin bordé d’arbres. Il est un tourbillon d’activité. La Place de la Sorbonne est une retraite bienvenue. C’est le temps pour de réflexion et de pensée tranquille. Cette une place à reposer au soleil, pour observer les personnes passer près, pour boire d’un café chaud et pour lire une livre comme ‘Un Festin Mobile’ du Hemingway.</td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Boulevard Saint-Michel is a beautiful tree-lined way. It is a hustle and bustle. Place de la Sorbonne is a welcome retreat. Time for some self reflection and quiet thought. This is a place to sit in the sun, watch the people pass by, drink a hot coffee and read a book like Hemingway’s ‘Moveable Feast’. </td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-52729441923056863242010-12-13T07:54:00.004+11:002010-12-13T23:35:24.784+11:0036. Les nettoyeurs des rues<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQU29bl-RGI/AAAAAAAAMJY/KEUCfYNMaME/s1600/36..JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQU29bl-RGI/AAAAAAAAMJY/KEUCfYNMaME/s640/36..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549902544810951778"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Les nettoyeurs des rues ont suivi derrière le défilé de rock-music comme il a serpenté le long du Boulevard de Saint Germain. Ils ont eu beaucoup travail faire nettoyer le désordre des papiers et bouteilles cassées. Les nettoyeuses ont utilisé les tuyaux pression-haut et les grands balais et ils sont travaillé rapidement rester à prés du défilé. Ils ont été jamais plus de un cent mètres derrière. Le conseil municipal de Paris ont cédé à la jeune génération : ceci loin, mais pas plus. Nous aimons notre ville sûre et propre.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>The street cleaners followed behind the rock music parade, as it meandered along the boulevard Saint Germain. They had a lot of work to do to clean the mess of wrappers and broken bottles. The cleaners used high-pressure hoses and large brooms and worked quickly to stay close to the parade. They were never more than a hundred metres behind. The council was indulging the younger generation: this far, but no further. We like our city safe and clean.</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-28167806642822283342010-12-11T07:09:00.005+11:002010-12-12T09:13:42.564+11:0035. Le boulevard Saint Germain<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQKJJTd1U5I/AAAAAAAAMFQ/FJI0_zcqowU/s1600/35.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TQKJJTd1U5I/AAAAAAAAMFQ/FJI0_zcqowU/s640/35.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549148483811103634"></a></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Quelque part en Le boulevard Saint Germain, j’était entouré par un concert de rock mobile. Les camions de musiciens ils étaient suivi par les danseurs heureux. Les danseurs heureux ils étaient suivi la rue nettoyeurs. les danseurs heureux sont très beaux, oui ?<br /></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Somewhere along Saint Germain I was surrounded by a moving rock concert. Trucks of musicians were followed by happy dancers. Happy dancers were followed by street cleaners. The happy dancers are very handsome, yes?<br /></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-91234642038502387862010-12-08T22:45:00.003+11:002010-12-08T23:42:49.973+11:0034. Encore La Rue Mouffetard<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TP9wG1PH4zI/AAAAAAAAMDQ/HfyQElchOrg/s1600/34.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TP9wG1PH4zI/AAAAAAAAMDQ/HfyQElchOrg/s640/34.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548276528615777074"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Levez haut votre yeux à le présent , et voyez en avant à le futur. Changer est un bon chose et c’est être encouragé. Je suis réservé voyager à Paris en Septembre prochain, et j’ai loué le même appartement en Rue Descartes que j’ai eu ce septembre. Mais, maintenant j’ai décidé voyager encore à Paris en mars. J’ai chercher plus l’appartement que j’aime. J’ ai besoin de un appartement vieux et ne cher rien , avec internet mais non l’escaliers. Je pense j’ai trouvé un bon appartement à près de Musée Rodin.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Lift up your eyes from the present, and look ahead to the future. To change is a good thing and is to be encouraged. I am booked to travel to Paris next September, and have rented the same apartment in Rue Descartes as I had this September . But, now I have decided to travel to Paris again in March. I have to find another apartment which suits me. I need it old and cheap, with internet but no stairs. I think I have found a suitable apartment over close to Musee Rodin.</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-87539360350277961012010-12-01T19:51:00.004+11:002010-12-01T21:49:14.360+11:0033. Le rive-gauche<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPYNbhTT13I/AAAAAAAAL7w/2JXuLJ0tdho/s1600/33.%2BSarko%2Bnon%2Baussi.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPYNbhTT13I/AAAAAAAAL7w/2JXuLJ0tdho/s640/33.%2BSarko%2Bnon%2Baussi.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545634757600335730"></a></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>"Ce ne sont pas les Roms ni les immigrés qu’il faut chasser. C’est Sarko et sa politique qu’il faut virer !"<br /><br />C’est intéressant ce quand une économie est dans difficulté, les travailleurs vont sur grève ou démontrent exprimer leurs colère. Qu'ils devraient faire est travail plus futé pour augmenter leur productivité. Aujourd’hui en Australie, les statistiques ont publié exposaient le taux de croissance lent de nos économie. Mais c’est bon, parce que la inflation reste basse et les taux d’intérêt reste basse aussi. Pourtant, c’est une ligne fine entre lent et arrêt.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>"It is not the Romish and the immigrants who should be driven out. It is Sarko and his policy that should be sacked!"<br /><br />It is interesting that when an economy is in trouble, the workers go on strike or demonstrate to express their anger. What they should be doing is working smarter to increase their productivity. Today in Australia, statistics were published showing that the slow rate of growth of our economy. This is good because inflation stays low, and interest rates stay low, too. However, it is a fine line between slow and stop.</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-47978233543916396582010-11-30T20:32:00.003+11:002010-12-01T10:15:36.445+11:0032. L’Institut de France<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPTFApfficI/AAAAAAAAL7Y/KXkTD4bUOME/s1600/32.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPTFApfficI/AAAAAAAAL7Y/KXkTD4bUOME/s640/32.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545273656128539074"></a></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Nous regardons de la porte de derrière du Louvre à travers de L’Institut de France. Le téléobjectif fait cette courte mais il y a un grand route sur chaque bord du Seine qui est traversée par La Pont des Arts. 'L’Académie française' est dans L’Institut et il y a quatre autre académies dans L'institut. Cette photographie est pris en Le Palais de Cour qui est a entouré par Le Pavillon des Artes, Le Pavillon de L’Horloge, Le Pavillon de Sully et Le Pavillon de Flore. J’ai allé maintenant en Paris aux visites quatre et je n'ai pas vu le Louvre intérieur seulement le bâtiment extérieur. La queue est très loin. </td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>We look from the ‘back door’ of The Louvre across to The Institute de France. The telephoto-lens makes this short but there is a major road on each side of the River Seine which is crossed by Pont des Arts. The Academy Francaise is in the Institute and there are four other academies in The Institute. This photo is taken from the Palais de Cour which is bounded by Pavilion des Artes, Pavilion de L’horloge, Pavilion Suly and Pavillion de Flore. I have now been to Paris four times and have not seen inside The Louvre only the outside building. The queue is very long.</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-16175440934216079932010-11-29T21:19:00.005+11:002010-11-29T23:01:07.274+11:0031. Centre Pantheon, La Rue Cujas<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPN-fsgAgUI/AAAAAAAAL7Q/OE8OimxIcbo/s1600/31.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPN-fsgAgUI/AAAAAAAAL7Q/OE8OimxIcbo/s640/31.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544914649209667906"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Beaucoup pays en le monde sont en tumulte financier sévère. Les personnes pauvres désirent un bon niveau de vie. Ils désirent bonnes maisons semblable à les riches désirent. Beaucoup de banques prêtent l’argent mais quand les personnes pauvres ne remboursent pas le prêt, les banques commencent tomber. Les politiciens aident les banques mais n’aide pas les personnes pauvres.<br /><br />En France, Monsieur Le Président, n’est pas un homme populaire. Beaucoup de personnes démontrent dans les rues avec les bannières, et hurlent les slogans. Arrêter la douleur financière, Le Président désires augmenter l’âge de retraite à soixante-huit, et arrêtes les salaires plus hauts. L’homme dans la rue, ne pense pas cet est juste, et ne supporte pas Monsieur Sarkozy.<br /></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Many countries in the world are in severe financial tumult. The poor people want a good standard of living. They want good houses like rich people. Many banks lend the money but when the poor people do not refund the loan, the banks start to fall. The politicians help the banks but not the poor people.<br /><br />In France, The President is not a popular man. Many people demonstrate in the streets with banners, and yelling slogans. To stop the financial pain, the President wants to raise the age of retirement to 68, and stop higher wages. The man in the street does not think this is fair, and does not support Sarkozy. <br /><br /></td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-61889691083760467312010-11-28T15:27:00.003+11:002010-11-28T17:17:05.476+11:0030. Ils lisaient dans le soleil après-midi<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPHakYxwa_I/AAAAAAAAL64/nOV8AHHJjV4/s1600/30.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPHakYxwa_I/AAAAAAAAL64/nOV8AHHJjV4/s640/30.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544452934931082226"></a></td></tr></table><table align=center><tr><td>Cette partie de la Tuileries est le plus proche du Louvre. Je attends sur le chemin levée entre L'Orangerie et L'Ecole du Louvre, qui je pense est appelé ‘Terrasse du bord de l’eau.' L’automne neuf est doux et il ne fait chaud. Personnes lisent sur les chaises dans les jardins entouraient par les fleurs beaux. Quelquefois ils juste asseyent et ils pensent. J’espère ils connaissent ils habitent dans une ville charmante. Je pense ils connaissent avec fierté discrètement.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>This part of The Tuileries is closest to The Louvre. I wait on the raised footpath between 'L'Orangerie' and 'L'ecole du Louvre', which I think is called `Terrasse du bord de l’eau.' The new autumn is soft and the weather is warm. People read on the chairs in the gardens surrounded by the beautiful flowers. Sometimes they just sit and they think. I hope they know they live in a charming city. I think they know with discrete pride.</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-38038137456214419002010-11-27T15:36:00.002+11:002010-11-27T16:22:23.731+11:0029. Aucun homme est une île<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPCLMCf0rGI/AAAAAAAAL4E/4xAW-3QRCb4/s1600/29.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TPCLMCf0rGI/AAAAAAAAL4E/4xAW-3QRCb4/s640/29.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544084180238117986"></a></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Il dort sur le vert chaises de jardin, débranché. Il est entouré par un océan du gravier bruyante, qui est sa protection. Dans une ville très animée, il flotte, tout seul. Est il heureux, je se demande. </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>He sleeps on the green garden chairs, disconnected. He is surrounded by an ocean of noisy gravel, which is his protection In a very busy city he floats, by himself. Is he happy, I wonder?</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7047834763441543918.post-59682437339711210672010-11-26T14:25:00.005+11:002010-11-26T17:18:19.155+11:0028. Monsieur Scarlet avec sa veste brilliante<table align=center><tr><td><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TO8o9GCN2eI/AAAAAAAAL2c/YvLtc8FYMus/s1600/28.JPG"><img style="float:left; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__SsIiBjNp7E/TO8o9GCN2eI/AAAAAAAAL2c/YvLtc8FYMus/s640/28.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543694696373410274"></a></td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td><br />Monsieur Scarlet marche par L’Orangerie à travers Le Tuilleries avec un parapluie pour lui protéger de la pluie. Je se demande s’ il connait que il est un rendez-vous notoire homosexuel. Monsieur Edmund White, dans son livre « The Flaneur », écrit cet est, et qui suis je disputer.</td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td> * * * * * </td></tr></table><br /><table align=center><tr><td>Mr Scarlet walks from The Orangerie through The Tuilleries with his umbrella to protect him from the rain. I wonder if he knows this is a notorious gay rendezvous. Mr Edmund White in his book ‘The Flaneur’ says it is, and who am I to argue?</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513648613788716017noreply@blogger.com2