Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
The best little bakery in Paris
To be fair, I may not be 100% qualified to make that judgement. However, Boulangerie Bazin was my absolute favorite bakery in Paris. And based on the constant line - out the door and up the street - the local Parisians agree with me.
The croissants were, in one word, AMAZING: light as air, crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside.
Ooh la la!
The only thing that would have made them better was if they were just out of the oven, and still warm. Although considering that I didn’t purchase them until 11 AM that might be asking a little much.
Everything else looked top notch too. If I had a better command of French - which is currently limited to "croissant, s'il vous plaît"- I may have ordered half of the shop. As it was, the extra croissants, pan au chocolat and brioche I picked up barely lasted the day.
Boulangerie Bazin specializes in Bazinette aux Graines and is just a block from the Marché d'Aligre market in the 12th arrondissement (district) of Paris. The Bazinette is named after the proprietor of the shop, Jacques Bazin, and contains flax seeds, sesame seeds and poppy seeds.
However, if you want to try one of these beauties, make sure to get there early. Or else all of the locals who are in the know will snatch them all up. So make sure to stop there on your way to Marché d'Aligre (which is also definitely worth a visit) and stock up on all of your favorites.
85, bis rue de Charenton (12th arrondissement)
Métro: Ledru-Rollin
Tel: 01 43 07 75 21
(Closed Wednesday and Thursday)
Do you know of any fantastic bakeries in Paris (or anywhere else for that matter) that I have to check out on my next visit? Tell me about them!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Paris and Performance Art
I have a confession to make. Everything I know about performance art I learned from Sex and the City. You know the episode I mean - where Carrie meets Aleksandr at a performance art show and they return at 3am to make sure the artist isn't sleeping or eating a Big Mac. Yeah, that one.
My take away from that episode? I don't get performance art.
Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that avant-garde and progressive artists, both in the art and the fashion world, go over my head. Their pieces just aren't my style, and I can live with that.
However, performance art perplexes me.
This weekend, I was walking around the Centre Pompidou in Paris and I entered an exhibit and immediately saw a gentleman writhing on the floor. In the half second that I hesitated before rushing to his aid - thank god I hesitated - I realized he had a crowd. I was witnessing my very first, live-and-in-person performance art piece. And it was kind of a let-down.
I'm not sure who this artist was, or what point he was supposed to be making, but all he did was slowly roll around on the floor of the gallery. It was actually quite bizarre. I watched him for a while until I became vaguely uncomfortable and moved on.
The rest of the exhibit shared the theme of performance art, but instead of live viewings, these were all recordings projected onto makeshift screens. Most seemed to involve dance - and I can understand that. Even the sailors-dancing-with-giant-robots kind of dance.
But one projection stopped me in my tracks.
There she was, naked from head to toe. Not even veiled in the thinnest layer of modesty.
She was rolling around a stage that had two dozen bottles suspended over it, slowly dripping olive oil. The stage was slick with the liquid and caused a certain amount of slide to occur with every movement and gesticulation. But the kicker? She was naked, so every third second or so she flashed her gumbo pot at the camera without the slightest hesitation or ounce of shyness. And all that was before she started stroking herself.
When making a ruling on pornography, Justice Potter Stewart of the US Supreme Court once said that he was not be able to define pornography, but “[he knew] it when [he saw] it". And this friends, was pornography.
I will be honest; I did spend a bit of time watching this projection. But how could I not? Maybe that's all performance art is about - shock value.
But if it is, I'm afraid I'm still missing the point. Maybe I really can learn all I need to know about some things from Sex and the City.
My take away from that episode? I don't get performance art.
Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that avant-garde and progressive artists, both in the art and the fashion world, go over my head. Their pieces just aren't my style, and I can live with that.
However, performance art perplexes me.
This weekend, I was walking around the Centre Pompidou in Paris and I entered an exhibit and immediately saw a gentleman writhing on the floor. In the half second that I hesitated before rushing to his aid - thank god I hesitated - I realized he had a crowd. I was witnessing my very first, live-and-in-person performance art piece. And it was kind of a let-down.
I'm not sure who this artist was, or what point he was supposed to be making, but all he did was slowly roll around on the floor of the gallery. It was actually quite bizarre. I watched him for a while until I became vaguely uncomfortable and moved on.
The rest of the exhibit shared the theme of performance art, but instead of live viewings, these were all recordings projected onto makeshift screens. Most seemed to involve dance - and I can understand that. Even the sailors-dancing-with-giant-robots kind of dance.
But one projection stopped me in my tracks.
There she was, naked from head to toe. Not even veiled in the thinnest layer of modesty.
Performance artist in Paris’s Centre Pompidou
She was rolling around a stage that had two dozen bottles suspended over it, slowly dripping olive oil. The stage was slick with the liquid and caused a certain amount of slide to occur with every movement and gesticulation. But the kicker? She was naked, so every third second or so she flashed her gumbo pot at the camera without the slightest hesitation or ounce of shyness. And all that was before she started stroking herself.
When making a ruling on pornography, Justice Potter Stewart of the US Supreme Court once said that he was not be able to define pornography, but “[he knew] it when [he saw] it". And this friends, was pornography.
I will be honest; I did spend a bit of time watching this projection. But how could I not? Maybe that's all performance art is about - shock value.
But if it is, I'm afraid I'm still missing the point. Maybe I really can learn all I need to know about some things from Sex and the City.
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