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Translating the French Presidential Election

Translating the French Presidential Election

France's presidential election has me reflecting on the French language. Over the past few months of campaigning, I’ve heard words I didn’t know but could learn, words I didn’t know that were hard to translate and words that even French people didn’t understand. When...

A Walk Made for Ewe

A Walk Made for Ewe

I’ve found the ideal walking companions to see Paris’s outskirts. They don’t need bathroom stops, don’t argue with your itinerary (unless they find a yummy clump of grass), don’t need to stop for lunch (as noted), don’t care if it rains and don’t have a language...

France Unmasked

France Unmasked

I saw something startling in the grocery store the other day: A human face. It was a consequence of the government's recent decision to lift many COVID-19 restrictions. Most notable among them: the requirement that masks be worn in public indoor places, including...

The Saddest Memorial in Paris

The Saddest Memorial in Paris

Second of two parts I’ve been thinking about war a lot lately. The war in Ukraine, of course. But also, what is it about war that turns people into savages, that makes them commit horrors they never would have dreamed of in real life? One Paris memorial raises that...

Sites of Remembrance We Do Not See

Sites of Remembrance We Do Not See

First of two parts I have never seen an empty space that was so moving. Six bronze figures in military uniform, five men and one woman, stand in two rows. They hold their hands as if they are carrying something between them, and it’s easy to see what: An invisible...

A Match Made in Paris Loses its Spark

A Match Made in Paris Loses its Spark

Le poids des mots, le choc des photos (The weight of the words, the shock of the photos)      – Paris Match slogan I have been facing an existential crisis: Whether to resubscribe to Paris Match magazine. This is the low point of a 25-year relationship with what...

Sisters Among the Yams and Couscous

Sisters Among the Yams and Couscous

Even though I like to write about Paris's ethnic neighborhoods, a recent walk showed me that's not really the right term. It implies boundaries and separation, when in fact many flow into each other, almost without warning. In three-plus hours, my sister Christine and...

  
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