Geneva Vending Machine

Tunes Tuesday, "Danse Caribe," Andrew Bird

"Here we go mistaking clouds for mountains," Andrew Bird sings. Maybe I've been doing this recently, seeing obstacles where perhaps none exists, and that's why I have this track on repeat. Love this sweet live version, with a folky jam section, and whistling, natch.

PS - this whole album really grew on me (I typed this and then Googled the NPR review, which described the album as a grower). Yes, give it a few listens, and you'll find yourself returning to the quiet depths of Break It Yourself.

The Most Adorable / Affordable Hotel in Chamonix

So when I started researching places to stay during the Chamonix portion of our trip, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be cool to find a super cute Design*Sponge-esque hotel that was somehow within my budget?"

Friends, I found it.  It's Le Faucigny in Chamonix. The most design-y ski chalet ever.

Glowing moose head, where have you been all my life?  I aspire to one day own that. I've already purchased one moose trophy in my lifetime: I bought my friend Roxanne a cardboard moose as a wedding present.  Didn't even know a glowing moose was an option.

Metal-tipped legs, so hot right now.

I love European breakfasts.  Nothing petit about this petit déjeuner.  I'm fairly certain they lost money on our morning meals.  We stocked up and didn't eat lunch (very American).  We ate bacon, eggs, croissants, yummy cheese, muesli, coffee, mango juice and more.  So great.

Here's the view from our room. How spectacular! My room at home looks out over a brick wall.

Tunes Tuesday, "How Do I Know," Here We Go Magic

I love this song off Here We Go Magic 's new album.  I love that it struggles against the fact that you can never know another living person completely.  Yet despite that tension of not knowing, you can know that you love them completely anyway.

At least that's what I'm taking from the lyrics.  Besides that, it's got a spiky guitar line and vocals that put a smile on your face.  A commenter on the AV Club said this song makes you feel like a million bucks, and that is exactly how I feel when I hear this song. Here are my favorite lyrics:

How do I know if I love you?

When I sure like your bread

The way that you tucker and straighten your bed

But how do I know if I love you?

How do I know if I know you?

When you come out clean from the shower

You squeak to the touch and you smell like a flower

How do I know if I know you?

Some men die in a fall

Not trusting their nose to show them the way

Paris Picture Post

I tried to count and photograph all the French bulldogs we saw.  New York Frenchies, you got nothing on the real thing.

I'm going to post more non-puppy Paris pictures behind the jump.  Follow me this way, would you?

Walking in the Tulleries made me think, "Wow, we can't even grow grass on the Mall, it's just dirt. And the French can achieve this?" I understand the idea that it's the nation's backyard, but it just looks so sad in comparison. We can aim higher.

Dachshunds this way...

How weird is this? Same font and everything? It was just a normal clothing store, not Redskins merchandise.

I tried to get Joe to buy these dropcrotch overalls for men, but no luck.

Does Rock Hair specialize in mullets?

I just like this combo, sushi + bagel.

Joe wanted me to take a picture of the most impressive parallel parking feat he'd ever witnessed.

We focused more on sightseeing than eating, but I requested that we make a special trip for lunch at Au Passage, a hip restaurant I read about in Bon Appetit.  The article was called "So You're Going to Paris and You Want to Eat Where the Cool Kids Are Eating?"  Yes, yes I do.  Turns out it was also written up in Conde Nast Traveler.  I'm sure when we walked in, they thought "Oh, here comes another Bon Appetit/Conde Nast Traveler reader." Is it that transparent?

No, they were nice to us.  And we had a mind-expanding meal for less than 18 euros a piece.  Their menu is pared down to a few items each day, which I loved as an indecisive, non-French speaker.  And the atmosphere is très Brooklyn.

Here's the menu for the day: one appetizer, a choice between two entrees, cheese plate and dessert.  We tried to each order everything but our waiter talked us out of that.  It would've been too much of a good thing.  I ordered the fish and Joe ordered an incredible deconstructed steak tartare. 

Sea salt on ganache with cherries for dessert.  Every lunch should end with this!

See this lovely display of macaroons?  Yeah, this in a McDonald's.

Macaroons at all price points...

We sat on a curb and ate falafel from the legendary L'As du Fallafel.  I love a good six euro meal.

Paris: I'm Thinking About Getting a Vespa

All spring I've been jonesing for a Vespa.  There's a cocktail at Boundary Road on H Street called "I'm Thinking About Getting a Vespa." Isn't that every urbanite's fantasy?  That's been my rallying cry for awhile.

A few months ago, my friend Andy sent me a photo text of a red Vespa with a custom license plate spelling out my last name.  He texted, "Is this yours?"

No, it wasn't.  But it could be!  Or rather, could it be a sign?  Should I get a Vespa?  The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense (if you ignore the expense and the possibility of serious injury).  I could zoom up hills without breaking a sweat.  I could avoid the weekend 20-minute wait between trains on the Metro.  I could park anywhere.  Most importantly, I could pick out a cool color for my Vespa.

When I visited Andy and Emily in Norfolk, Andy took me for a spin on his Vespa, a sleek silver model.  Here I am, gearing up for the ride:

OK, maybe a Vespa is not going to make me look cooler.  I look like a bobblehead.

Looking uneasy in this picture.

And away we go!

Emily and Andy's dog Jasper sees us off on our journey.

That's the first time I've ever been on a moped.  What a way to travel.  It didn't seem so dangerous, just fun, but then again I wasn't driving.  There's a scooter shop in Arlington near work, so one lunch hour I invited my coworker Luther to go check it out.  It turned out to be an insurance office attached to a garage, and the guy showed us around for 10 minutes.  I felt bad that I wasn't a serious buyer.  I took their literature though.  Another push towards rationalizing a scooter purchase.

Everyone had mopeds in Paris (see photos above).  Talk about living the dream.  Scooting around Paris, from flea market to bistro.  For a girl with Vespas on the brain, Paris cemented my scooter love.

I told my mom that I wanted a moped.  "No.  You're not doing that," she said.  The answer seemed final.  But I already ride a bike, I said.  Isn't that similar?  "I'll hear a report on the news about a girl in Mount Pleasant on a Vespa who got hit by a bus, and I'll know it will be you," she said.