FLY ME TO THE MOON AND LET ME PLAY AMONG THE STARS

That's what this picture usually makes me think of, rather than a beautiful night along the Rhone in Arles, which I've had the privilege to visit two or three times. I did not, however, walk on the surface of the river. In my system of lose associations, I hear Frank Sinatra singing this romantic clap-trap 60s standard. Remarkably, I found a video of him singing it here in St. Louis about two years before I showed up.  https://youtu.be/Y2rDb4Ur2dw                         

Street Art In Arles

As the French say, a chacun son goût. Biere a la pression is draft beer. Douche is shower. Cuir is leather.

Incroyable! We were looking for a supermarket at the Gare du Nord, near our apartment in Paris (Google Maps has its location completely wrong). A local woman came up to me in the street, asked me in her own language where the entrance to the Metro was, I understood her, answered her question (sure hope I was right) and she thanked me profusely. Progress. It felt good.   

Yo, Vinny!

Towns and cities make their living off whatever they can. We took a day trip to Arles yesterday, where Vincent van Gogh spent some of his life. The place squeezes every euro it can out of him. There is great charm, however, in the placards the town has put up at the location of some of his famous paintings. The first below is in the old Roman arena, probably at a bull fight. The next is the yellow house where he lived. The smaller building in front is gone but that's the same one behind. You can see the same railroad trestle on the right.

We will be in Paris this afternoon.