France

  • Romance, Love, and a Creep with a Camera

    Admittedly, I’m such a creep when I travel. Since falling in love with Robert Doisneau’s 1950 “Le Baiser De L’Hotel De Ville” in the mid-90’s, I’ve become slightly obsessed with photographing romance and unsuspecting kissing couples. I found these lovers in Amsterdam and Paris while on Passport Required’s April Trip....
  • Maybe I’ll Go. Maybe I’ll Stay: A French Road Trip

    Our first night, we found ourselves so deep in conversation in a stranger’s living room in St. Tropez that we forgot to listen to J. Cole rap, “Roll up and smoke my sins away /
I’d like to go to St. Tropez / Maybe I’ll go, maybe I’ll stay
/ Maybe...
  • Potbellied Travellers: For The Foodie Plane Gang Folks

    Paris, France American Ouais: 6 Rue Mabillon, Paris, France 75006 Paris. My stomach is often an iron tank, but French food is certainly its kryrptonite. When I heard about American Ouais from Brenda, a fellow globetrotter, it was the perfect solution to my problem. I had absolutely no idea...
  • Intersections & Second Chances & Good Food: Paris

    As a wanderer, I love getting lost. The way my heart beats when nothing around me is familiar is amazing. Strangers must become friends for a few minutes, and everything in sight becomes a tool that might be needed in the escape. After the ticket is purchased, I rarely...
  • I Smelled All-A-Be-Damned

    10.3.13 – 3:00AM For the last four hours I’ve smelled like a bum’s pocket. We’ve been good the last few days with no deodorant, but today, I lost the battle. Too much moving around, in and out of hot and cool, and there it was…the smell. I smelled like...
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  • Dedicated To Robert Doisneau

      When I was 18 I saw this photo by Robert Doisneau of two lovers kissing by the Hotel De Ville in Paris: It’s been my favorite photo for years. Just the realness and rawness of it. I want to know who they are, what happened before and what...
  • Paris: My Culture Shock

    Bad customer service, attitude, a potential hair perfectly perched on the top of a french fry, and waiting at the end of a line of folks who haven’t seen their feet while standing in years is what happens when I go to McDonalds at home. but in France, I’m...