winter trip to europe seems so long ago. with the current rate of covid spread in america, americans won't be able to travel to europe or anywhere else anytime soon.... smiley arc de triomphe tourists set to maiko kaji's flower of carnage.
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2020
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
What's in a parapet? - fondation louis vuitton
While everybody was enjoying the sweeping view of paris from the rooftop, I played the part of curious douchebag architect and looked under the parapet cap at the foundation louis Vuitton in paris. I could see tiny fibers poking out from the underside of the cap. I suspected rightly that the material was ultra high performance concrete (UHPC). A couple months prior, I had visited an ultra high performance concrete vendor to scout how I could incorporate this material into our library design.
Buried in the Brooklyn navy yard is Ductal’s UHPC showroom showing material samples, molds, and castings. We were drawn to the material because our library is in a marine environment and we needed a resilient material that could withstand harsh environments and potential ocean flooding. For our library, we wanted to develop simple cladding that resembled weather beach wood. The boards would be fabricated on molds that had real wood grain imprints. The casting molds can be re-used a couple hundred times, the color can be custom selected, the patterns are flexible in pattern and geometry. On display at the showroom were the molds for the pollinator’s pavilion project which enlisted the help of pratt students. https://www.pratt.edu/news/view/habitat-for-the-bees-pratt-professor-explores-post-human-architecture-for-n
At the Fondation louis Vuitton, the UHPC panels were vacuformed over custom molds to achieve 3-dimensional forms called ‘icebergs’. (58 other patents were issued in the building of the museum which pushed limits of building technology) the icebergs are double height skylit gallery spaces. Cladding the 126,000 square foot building, and soaring above the icebergs are the glass laminated-wood supported facades. The glass recalls the glass roof structures of the grand and petit palais, and the glass palmarium that used to inhabit the bois de Boulogne site years ago. when those glass structures were built in the 19th century, pioneering architects were pushing ways to utilize new 'modern' materials iron and glass in design.
Navigating through and around the iceberg galleries one ascends to the site’s tree-dotted rooftop terraces with sweeping panoramic views of the city.
when criticized for focusing too much on form-making a week before the fondation museum opening, gehry responded with a middle finger and said, "In this world we are living in, 98 percent of everything that is built and designed today is pure shit. There’s no sense of design, no respect for humanity or for anything else. They are damn buildings and that’s it…. Once in a while, however, a group of people do something special. Very few, but God, leave us alone."
Buried in the Brooklyn navy yard is Ductal’s UHPC showroom showing material samples, molds, and castings. We were drawn to the material because our library is in a marine environment and we needed a resilient material that could withstand harsh environments and potential ocean flooding. For our library, we wanted to develop simple cladding that resembled weather beach wood. The boards would be fabricated on molds that had real wood grain imprints. The casting molds can be re-used a couple hundred times, the color can be custom selected, the patterns are flexible in pattern and geometry. On display at the showroom were the molds for the pollinator’s pavilion project which enlisted the help of pratt students. https://www.pratt.edu/news/view/habitat-for-the-bees-pratt-professor-explores-post-human-architecture-for-n
At the Fondation louis Vuitton, the UHPC panels were vacuformed over custom molds to achieve 3-dimensional forms called ‘icebergs’. (58 other patents were issued in the building of the museum which pushed limits of building technology) the icebergs are double height skylit gallery spaces. Cladding the 126,000 square foot building, and soaring above the icebergs are the glass laminated-wood supported facades. The glass recalls the glass roof structures of the grand and petit palais, and the glass palmarium that used to inhabit the bois de Boulogne site years ago. when those glass structures were built in the 19th century, pioneering architects were pushing ways to utilize new 'modern' materials iron and glass in design.
Navigating through and around the iceberg galleries one ascends to the site’s tree-dotted rooftop terraces with sweeping panoramic views of the city.
when criticized for focusing too much on form-making a week before the fondation museum opening, gehry responded with a middle finger and said, "In this world we are living in, 98 percent of everything that is built and designed today is pure shit. There’s no sense of design, no respect for humanity or for anything else. They are damn buildings and that’s it…. Once in a while, however, a group of people do something special. Very few, but God, leave us alone."
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| pollinator pavilion |
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| wall assembly |
 |
| mold |
x
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| glass sails |
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| UHPC icebergs |
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| glass sail and iceergs |
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| looking up an iceberg |
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| cutting edge use of 'new materials' glass and iron in 19th century grand palais |
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| gehry 1 week before museum opening |
Monday, March 30, 2020
Scooter a Paris
When I arrived at the airport, the metro system was down. Apparently there’s been a transit strike going on for the past 3 weeks. I tried to keep an open mind about the transit workers and their plight... but after I read about their grievances I think they’re a bunch of lazy fucks who don’t want to be judged by performance. The dancers union joined in the fray of whiners to make the situation seem even more ridiculous. In America, these striking workers would’ve been replaced already.
At the center of the labor dispute, which sparked widespread protest and strikes lasting over two weeks, are reforms that would do away with 42 different pension schemes and replace them with a points-based system. Additionally, the reforms seek to set 64 as the age until which people must work to earn a full pension. That is two years beyond the current official retirement age in France. Even Paris Opera workers, who can retire at 42, joined the strike. On Tuesday, some 40 dancers performed Swan Lake to passers-by on the steps outside the opera house with banners warning: "Culture in danger." French unions are hoping the government will back down on pension reform, as it did in 1995, when three weeks of metro and rail stoppages just before Christmas resulted in a win for labor activists.
N’importe quoi. I used my French to give directions to a cabbie. “Cent vingt cinq rue de serves s’il vous plait.” I’ve been to Paris 3 times before, each time spending extensive time riding subways and trains to get around to sites. I had never taken a cab before. Without a subway, you start experiencing the city differently. You have to speak to a cabbie in French to get to where you want to go. All of a sudden I appreciated the fact I learned useless language French for 6 years in middle school and high school. Paris is a vast city. Without a subway you realize it takes a lot of time to walk from one neighborhood to another. You see the connective tissue that holds the city together. The ubiquitous low lying buildings with mansard roofs, small squares and plazas, pocket parks, and cobblestone intersections. With kids, however, the distances become daunting for walking. A mile here, a mile there.. all of a sudden the kids are complaining about assorted health issues like bad backs, strained hip flexors and calf soreness. As they were about to mutiny the ship of boring walks they looked in awe at people whizzing by in electric scooters. In no other city have I seen more adults on scooters than Paris. It’s useful to get around a large city, especially when their transit system goes down the toilette. In nyc, I’m a pariah.. an embarrassment.. a source of shame when I ride a scooter. In Paris scootering is cool. Thank god for electric scooters. They’re exactly what boys want to enjoy moving. Dangerous, fast, and autonomous. To them it’s like an amusement park ride.
For the paying adults in the audience, scooters are 1 euro to activate, and 15 cents for each minute. They reach a max speed of 12.4 mph or 20.5 km/h. Scooter riding is probably 4x more expensive than riding a cab but 4x more fun.
By the end of 2019, there will be 20,000 electric scooters on Parisian streets, 1/3 of which are ridden by foreign tourists at any given moment. There are about a dozen scooter companies.. Dott, Lime, tier, circ, bird. The rules of usage are not clear. Although they are not supposed to ridden on sidewalks and would incur a 135 euro fine if caught, you see them on sidewalks all the time. They are supposed to be parked on bicycle parking areas on streets, but you see them on sidewalks. Uncharged scooters litter the sides of roads abandoned. Not a few have been thrown into the seine. Scooters are meant to be used solo. To amass a large group of scooters for 5 people is like playing a game of Pokémon go.
Similar to Pokémon go’s augmented reality where you can tell which Pokémon of certain rarity are near your vicinity, in the lime smartphone interface you can see where scooters are in the city and how much electric charge they have left. We learned to scan maps to find the most scooters with the most charge within the closest distance. You never find more than a couple scooters at a time. Their distribution In the city is random... so you try to wheel them into a group. The front wheel locks when you try to wheel them on two wheels. This means you have to roll them on their back wheel. But once they’re activated together via the app, the fun begins. A gentle send off on foot coordinated with press on the throttle near your right thumb to accelerate... a squeeze of the left hand brake to decelerate. With these simple controls you are free to hover glide through Paris streets. Our first ride spanned from 125 rue de sevres all the way to atelier des Lumières show near pere la chaise cemetery in the northeast section of town. The sun was out, the wind was brisk and we scootered in a general direction... checking our map every so often so as not to be completely lost. When you encounter cobblestones you feel them rattle your ride and jaw. When you enter pedestrian zones, you weave slowly through the crowds. When you ride on the street you become aware of all the flanking motorized vehicles whizzing by. We made the Lumières show just in time. A 30 minute cheap taxi ride was replaced by a 2 hour electric odyssey on two wheels.
Thursday, March 12, 2020
35 Rue de Sevres - Corbusier's Studio
A chance exhibit on Charlotte Perriand at the Louis Vuitton museum, an internet search into her collaboration with le corbusier, an address to his studio in Paris. It turns out the apartment we were staying at on 125 rue de sevres was several blocks from the mythic studio that he inhabited from 1924 till his death in 1965, 35 rue de sevres. The studio was only 3.5 meters wide and ran perpendicular to the street, across the courtyard from a jesuit abbey. Archival pictures of the studio show a dozen drafting tables along an double loaded aisle. In this non-descript studio, he designed most of his most iconic projects such as Notre Dame du Haut, at Ronchamp, Unite d´Habitation in Marseille, Convent de La Tourrette, and Chandigrah.
From the street, in front of the modern building with balconies, there was a woman on a wheelchair in front of the building gate. Walking inside, you could see the courtyard corbusier’s studio faced behind a secondary metal gate. I began to visualize everyday for 36 years, corbusier walking through this same entry gate i had just walked. I’ve followed his journeys to the orient through sketchbooks, have seen a couple of his American buildings, read a lot of his books, and was laughing at myself for my extensive experience with his architecture work that doesn’t really correlate with experiencing his actual architecture. He followed a strict monk-like schedule. From 6-8 AM he would paint. Once his mind was warmed up in the morning he would meditate on urban and architecture issues. Then he would come into the office with new ideas, sketches and notes, and work there from two in the afternoon to around seven in the evening. Like a typical Swiss, time was sacred for Le Corbusier, and if people were late, they would get in trouble. In the early years, corbusier would arrive to his office by subway or taxi. Later on, he drove his convertible Fiat. However, in his late years, he would take cab rides to work. At 2:00 p.m. just before he entered the atelier, an atmosphere of anxiety floated over the studio. Le Corbusier’s notes became more complex, and his critiques were more intolerant. At night, corbusier would continue painting. He once said of his routine, “If the generations to come attach any importance to my work as an architect, it is to these unknown labors that one has attribute its deeper meaning”. On a good day, Corbu would sketch continuously until losing track of time. On a bad day he would get frustrated, toss his pencil or the remains of the charcoal. In a bitter manner, he said several times “C'est difficile, l´architecture”.
I asked a janitor to see if he would grant access to the courtyard. “Sorry.” I went to the church service at the abbey next door and they also told me they were sorry they couldn’t let me in. I went back to the interior gate to catch a glimpse of the court. It’s been 54 years since corbusier walked this path I thought. 15 years ago I traced his steps through Italy on his voyage d’orient that he made in 1910... visiting villa d’este, monastery of ema, Hadrian’s villa, and Pompeii houses. I hoped that by seeing what he saw, the sites would similarly inspire me. Unfortunately all my sketches and photos of the trip have gathered dust. Now I was back on corbusier’s trail again. What struck me about his office was how small and modest it was. A great architect doesn’t need a big firm or a great space to create great architecture... a 3.5 meter wide ground floor office space overlooking a courtyard with space for 16 drafting tables will suffice. corbusier showed the most important factors to create great architecture is a process to generate ideas (painting), writing to articulate ideas and influence and attract talented people to collaborate. One such talented collaborator was Charlotte Perriand.
From the street, in front of the modern building with balconies, there was a woman on a wheelchair in front of the building gate. Walking inside, you could see the courtyard corbusier’s studio faced behind a secondary metal gate. I began to visualize everyday for 36 years, corbusier walking through this same entry gate i had just walked. I’ve followed his journeys to the orient through sketchbooks, have seen a couple of his American buildings, read a lot of his books, and was laughing at myself for my extensive experience with his architecture work that doesn’t really correlate with experiencing his actual architecture. He followed a strict monk-like schedule. From 6-8 AM he would paint. Once his mind was warmed up in the morning he would meditate on urban and architecture issues. Then he would come into the office with new ideas, sketches and notes, and work there from two in the afternoon to around seven in the evening. Like a typical Swiss, time was sacred for Le Corbusier, and if people were late, they would get in trouble. In the early years, corbusier would arrive to his office by subway or taxi. Later on, he drove his convertible Fiat. However, in his late years, he would take cab rides to work. At 2:00 p.m. just before he entered the atelier, an atmosphere of anxiety floated over the studio. Le Corbusier’s notes became more complex, and his critiques were more intolerant. At night, corbusier would continue painting. He once said of his routine, “If the generations to come attach any importance to my work as an architect, it is to these unknown labors that one has attribute its deeper meaning”. On a good day, Corbu would sketch continuously until losing track of time. On a bad day he would get frustrated, toss his pencil or the remains of the charcoal. In a bitter manner, he said several times “C'est difficile, l´architecture”.
I asked a janitor to see if he would grant access to the courtyard. “Sorry.” I went to the church service at the abbey next door and they also told me they were sorry they couldn’t let me in. I went back to the interior gate to catch a glimpse of the court. It’s been 54 years since corbusier walked this path I thought. 15 years ago I traced his steps through Italy on his voyage d’orient that he made in 1910... visiting villa d’este, monastery of ema, Hadrian’s villa, and Pompeii houses. I hoped that by seeing what he saw, the sites would similarly inspire me. Unfortunately all my sketches and photos of the trip have gathered dust. Now I was back on corbusier’s trail again. What struck me about his office was how small and modest it was. A great architect doesn’t need a big firm or a great space to create great architecture... a 3.5 meter wide ground floor office space overlooking a courtyard with space for 16 drafting tables will suffice. corbusier showed the most important factors to create great architecture is a process to generate ideas (painting), writing to articulate ideas and influence and attract talented people to collaborate. One such talented collaborator was Charlotte Perriand.
charlotte perriand
Friday, February 7, 2020
Perdu et Trouvé
Le ven. 27 déc. 2019 à 05:09, <Luke> a ecrit:
<On Fri. Dec. 27, 2019 at 5:09 a.m., Luke wrote:>
salut j'ai mangé au restaurant hier soir vers 21h. nous étions un groupe de 5 à l'arrière. J'ai laissé mes bretelles en plastique dans une serviette rouge. j'aimerais venir les chercher si possible. à quelle heure arrivez-vous le matin? merci, luke
<Hi, I ate at the restaurant last night around 9:00 PM. We were a group of five in the back. I left my plastic braces in a red napkin. I'd like to come and get them if I can. What time do you get in in the morning? thanks, luke.>
From: Yibol Yibol
To: Luke
December 27, 2019 at 3:34 AM
Re: perdu et trouvé <lost and found>
Bonjour ! Nous ouvrons a 11h30. Je ne suis pas celui qui a nettoyé les tables hier soir. Elles doivent cependant toujours être là .
<Hello! We open at 11:30. I'm not the one who cleaned the tables last night. They still have to be there, though.>
I was happy to hear the Chinese restaurant’s reply but dreaded the consequences. The night before when I went to brush my teeth and realized my plastic braces were missing, I frantically rifled through the pockets of everything I wore... then ran to the restaurant sockless to see if they were still open... the restaurant was closed and would not open for another 12 hours. Most people call a restaurant to order food or make reservations or ask about opening hours. I left messages in Chinese and French on their answering machine asking permission to dig through their trash looking for my braces. I couldn’t sleep well. When I awoke, I looked at their social media accounts and found an email which led to the following exchange above. No instant reply. My mind began to mull over all the possible outcomes. Were my braces in a large trash bag with raw chicken bones and slimy raw meat trimmings? Or were they gently placed at the top of a small trash can? Did I sound like a lunatic leaving all these messages In foreign languages?
At 11 AM I tapped on their window and spoke in Chinese. Forget this French bullshit. I needed to communicate and not be misunderstood. Not knowing the words for braces I told the worker I lost my false teeth the night before. The worker showed me a trash can in the back. There were cooks and other people looking at me amused while I rummaged through it. I recognized the cans of coconut water and soy milk that our table ordered but no napkin with plastic braces. Tant pis. She then showed me the trash can in the front. This trash was not dry. It was a melange of wet paper towels, soup vegetables, bits and pieces of leftover food, plastic containers. I stuck my hand in and asked for another trash bag. I started emptying the contents of one trash into another... methodically opening each folded napkin to try to find my braces. No luck initially. Every layer of trash I unpeeled, I got more and more disgusted until I found my treasure. My braces... damp with Chinese food detritus....
I walked out the store kind of happy I found them and kind of worried about the prospect of putting the braces back in my mouth, the owner laughed and offered me a bottle of hand sanitizer to wash it. I thought maybe the chemicals of hand sanitizer may react strangely to the polymers of my braces. At the grocery store, with one hand clenching dirty braces I looked for the cheapest toothbrush and mouthwash. Upon return to the apartment I scrubbed the braces with toothpaste, then dunked them in mouthwash, then rinsed it... when I still had misgivings about putting them in my mouth, I soaked them again in mouthwash... then brushed them in dish soap. I spent 40 minutes scrubbing but and soaking the braces before I finally relented and put them into my mouth. They felt tight around my teeth, as the positions of my teeth felt loosened without braces for the night. Nobody would do this except for me I thought. The kids at this point were awake and stirring. I was truly ready to trash talk teenage boys.
<On Fri. Dec. 27, 2019 at 5:09 a.m., Luke wrote:>
salut j'ai mangé au restaurant hier soir vers 21h. nous étions un groupe de 5 à l'arrière. J'ai laissé mes bretelles en plastique dans une serviette rouge. j'aimerais venir les chercher si possible. à quelle heure arrivez-vous le matin? merci, luke
<Hi, I ate at the restaurant last night around 9:00 PM. We were a group of five in the back. I left my plastic braces in a red napkin. I'd like to come and get them if I can. What time do you get in in the morning? thanks, luke.>
From: Yibol Yibol
To: Luke
December 27, 2019 at 3:34 AM
Re: perdu et trouvé <lost and found>
Bonjour ! Nous ouvrons a 11h30. Je ne suis pas celui qui a nettoyé les tables hier soir. Elles doivent cependant toujours être là .
<Hello! We open at 11:30. I'm not the one who cleaned the tables last night. They still have to be there, though.>
I was happy to hear the Chinese restaurant’s reply but dreaded the consequences. The night before when I went to brush my teeth and realized my plastic braces were missing, I frantically rifled through the pockets of everything I wore... then ran to the restaurant sockless to see if they were still open... the restaurant was closed and would not open for another 12 hours. Most people call a restaurant to order food or make reservations or ask about opening hours. I left messages in Chinese and French on their answering machine asking permission to dig through their trash looking for my braces. I couldn’t sleep well. When I awoke, I looked at their social media accounts and found an email which led to the following exchange above. No instant reply. My mind began to mull over all the possible outcomes. Were my braces in a large trash bag with raw chicken bones and slimy raw meat trimmings? Or were they gently placed at the top of a small trash can? Did I sound like a lunatic leaving all these messages In foreign languages?
At 11 AM I tapped on their window and spoke in Chinese. Forget this French bullshit. I needed to communicate and not be misunderstood. Not knowing the words for braces I told the worker I lost my false teeth the night before. The worker showed me a trash can in the back. There were cooks and other people looking at me amused while I rummaged through it. I recognized the cans of coconut water and soy milk that our table ordered but no napkin with plastic braces. Tant pis. She then showed me the trash can in the front. This trash was not dry. It was a melange of wet paper towels, soup vegetables, bits and pieces of leftover food, plastic containers. I stuck my hand in and asked for another trash bag. I started emptying the contents of one trash into another... methodically opening each folded napkin to try to find my braces. No luck initially. Every layer of trash I unpeeled, I got more and more disgusted until I found my treasure. My braces... damp with Chinese food detritus....
I walked out the store kind of happy I found them and kind of worried about the prospect of putting the braces back in my mouth, the owner laughed and offered me a bottle of hand sanitizer to wash it. I thought maybe the chemicals of hand sanitizer may react strangely to the polymers of my braces. At the grocery store, with one hand clenching dirty braces I looked for the cheapest toothbrush and mouthwash. Upon return to the apartment I scrubbed the braces with toothpaste, then dunked them in mouthwash, then rinsed it... when I still had misgivings about putting them in my mouth, I soaked them again in mouthwash... then brushed them in dish soap. I spent 40 minutes scrubbing but and soaking the braces before I finally relented and put them into my mouth. They felt tight around my teeth, as the positions of my teeth felt loosened without braces for the night. Nobody would do this except for me I thought. The kids at this point were awake and stirring. I was truly ready to trash talk teenage boys.
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
Versailles
20 km southwest of Paris, you’ll find thousands of people lining up to tour the palace and grounds. I was shocked by the magnitude of the crowds…. probably due to my lack of interest in walking around a stuffy old palace and my disbelief so many people would find a way to get to Versailles despite the lack of public transportation during the transit strike. To circumvent the lines, we bought time-ticketed entries and decided to roam the gardens and eat lunch. Lunch was the usual… chicken and tuna sandwiches on baguettes. I felt a little grouchy and took solace in cutting several dozen people in line to procure lunch. The grounds were organized around a stately cruciform-shaped reservoir descending from the palace. Walking past conically shaven topiaries, carefully winter wrapped marble statues, manicured lawns, and throngs of tourists taking delight in the resident swans, I began to think how incongruously the turbulent history and drama belie the serenity of the place today.
Back in 1600, Versailles was nothing. Henry IV visited the area and stayed in an inn for hunting. His son Louis XIII built a hunting lodge there in 1623 and decided to build a chateau in 1631. Sun King Louis XIV began embellishing the palace in 1661 by extending grandiose building wings, and laying out gardens, fountains, statues, basins, and even a zoo with exotic animals to boot. For my american readers wondering who gives a fuck about France, in 1783, the Palace was the site of the signing of three treaties of the Peace of Paris which the United Kingdom recognized the independence of the United States. For those morbidly curious about France’s use of the guillotine.... within 6 years, Paris would undergo the start of its own revolution on July 14, 1789. By October 5 1789, a mob of several thousand protesting the high price of bread, marched from the markets of Paris to Versailles. Bloodthirsty, they forced Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette to return with them to Paris where their royal heads were eventually lopped off via guillotine. For those interested in more random useless trivia.... Napoleon, Emperor of the French seized control in the power vacuum in 1804, and considered making Versailles his residence, but abandoned the idea because of the exorbitant renovation costs. The Palace briefly returned to the world stage in June, 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles was signed in the Hall of Mirrors to end the First World War (but start the Second World War by inciting German resentment with its harsh terms).
Thanks, to American philanthropist, Rockefeller, who gave $2,166,000, (thirty million dollars today), to restore and refurnish the palace in 1928, Versailles was saved from shambles. Today, Versailles accommodates 7.7 million visitors a year. At 2:30, we faithfully joined the timed entry conga line through the Palace. There’s nothing worse in visiting a site than being crammed in with thousands of other people. I kept thinking to improve this conga line experience they should play Muzak, encourage people to hold on to preceding visitor’s hips and step to the beat. But I guess, our experience was akin to its heyday, when six to seven thousand persons, crowded into the buildings to keep it running. The crowds made the stuffy palace feel even more stuffy. I admired obscure things like the luxuriant wall paper, noticed how high the kings and queen’s beds were set off the ground, and was surprised Bernini’s sculpture of Louis XIV rested on a mantle. I longed to go back to the landscaped grounds outside… which we did. We walked until the soft yellow hazy sky turned purple blue.
Like aimless cattle, we were herded out en masse to find there were no regional trains from Versaillles to Paris since the transit workers were on strike. With Ubers charging $100 for a ride back into the city, we were resigned to eating in Versailles and waiting for congestion pricing to go down and riding a cheaper cab into town later at night. The kids were a little hungry from a day of strolling Versailles so we got a KFC snack for them— popcorn chicken, juice boxes, and 4 pieces of dark meat. Serendipitously as we were ordering food at KFC, I received a KFC rewards email. Weird. Apparently a guy named Han Low Meng in Singapore mistakenly put my email address for his rewards account by mistake. At the exact moment we were ordering, I was emailed his receipt and a reward for chicken nuggets. “Hi lowmenghan, Thank you for ordering! Here are the details of your order: 3x Original Recipe Chicken 1x Nuggets (3 pcs) 1x Whipped Potato (reg) 1x Pepsi (reg) 2X ORIGINAL RECIPE CHICKEN $ 7.10 1X COLESLAW (MED) $ 3.40 YOUR ORDER : 20191229-000276 DELIVERY DATE : 29 Dec 2019 ESTIMATED DELIVERY TIME : 02:20 PM ADDRESS : 07-325, 82, DEDOK NORTH ROAD, HDB-BEDOK, 460082 PAYMENT METHOD : Cash On Delivery CUSTOMER CONTACT NUMBER : 91759879 TOTAL : $ 26.60.
How does someone with a name low meng han, put down my email address? how are our names even similar? Low Meng apparently ordered a mix of nuggets and pieces of meat, and a couple sides like cole slaw and mashed potatoes and a soda. 10 days later, on January 7th I would receive another set of emails and rewards for chicken nuggets.... he apparently ordered the same food but added 2 egg tarts to this order. By his address and name and his chicken eating habits I have developed a profile of this random person through a little internet sleuthing. Asian, lives in a flat a little east of city center that costs about $300,000, orders more or less the same thing every 2 weeks, could be a lawyer or mechanical engineer based on linked-in profiles. Or maybe he’s a kid playing video games without a credit card and that’s why he pays cash on delivery. He eats erratically either early dinners or late lunches. But I digress. The kids at hand were still hungry despite our order. On the table next to us, a large group had left some pieces of chicken in their bucket along with a empty cups of soda and crinkles napkins and left. My nephew Matt kept joking “should we take the left-over chicken?” I thought young people these days have a strange sense of humor. but being the responsible adult that I am, I joked back, “why not?” It’s a little unusual. Of course the chicken was fine, but eating leftovers from another table is kind of taboo. After a few minutes of deliberations, he and ben ate the chicken out of the abandoned bucket and we left. They told me it tasted a bit stale... as if it had been left out on the table for a prolonged period of time.
We walked back towards the gates of Versailles. There were no taxis. The night sky was pitch black. Earlier during the day, thousands of people lined up in the forecourt to enter Versailles. Now the palace was dark... only a few desperate tourists were left scrambling trying to find their way back to the city. One black cab came by, an initial group balked at the price for a ride back to Paris. 60 euros. When they walked away, we gladly took the cab knowing it was 30 euros cheaper than Uber rates. The driver spoke chinese with a strange accent.... almost stuttering like a shanghainese. It is strange communicating in an unexpected language in a foreign country. My Chinese is limited, but I guess not as limited as my French. In chinese, I’m able to understand and transmit main ideas better.
“We’d like to go to the arc de Triomphe.” “Sure. Have you had a good time in Paris?” “Yes, we’ve seen so much. The Louvre, Pere lachaise, Eiffel Tower, Seine, Sacre Couer, Montmartre...“ “you’ve seen everything... too bad Notre Dame burned down” “Why is there so much traffic?” “The Parisians are returning from their beach cottages in Bretagne...” “they go there in the winter?” “Yes” “you’re lucky because of all this traffic you know. I originally came to Versailles to pick up a customer that I had dropped off from the airport earlier in the day, but the traffic made me late, the customer found another cab to get back to the city.. that’s why I was available to pick up passengers at Versailles late” “do you like Paris?” “Yes, I’ve been living here 25 years” “where did you come from?” “Cambodia” I had no idea France had extended to Cambodia and that Cambodia was integrated into the French Indochina union in 1887 along with the French colonies like Vietnam. In 1946, Cambodia was granted self-rule within the French Union and had its protectorate status abolished in 1949. “Really?” “Yes, I was helping a doctor there and when he returned to France, he offered to bring me, and i took the opportunity.” “It’s amazing you speak all these languages... French, Chinese, Cambodian...” “I had my son learn even more... Korean, Chinese, English, French, Spanish, and Cambodian” “that’s amazing” “it comes in handy for me, sometimes I get customers who pay $400 to hire me to drive them around for the day.” “What do you do with them?” “It’s crazy but rich Chinese love Louis Vuitton merchandise. I drive them to the LV store and they spend $20,000 on a bag, $8,000 for a watch, $5,000 for a wallet… LV limits the customer to 1 bag purchase... so oftentimes I help the buy an extra bag... a couple years ago I knew a worker there, and I was able to help my riders buy up to 5 bags!” As we were pulling up close to the arc nestled in the rich part of town, Trocadero, he warned us to beware of the gypsies. “Last week, I saved 2 old Chinese tourists from being mugged. If you see a gypsy. Just hit them to make them go away. Really. They’re persistent.” “Thanks for the advice.” As we closed the cab door and exited, we left the strange warm bubble that transported us 20 km from 18th century palace to a busy rotary where cars whiz by. Compared to the neat manicured abstract lawns of imperial palace of Versailles, French conquest and colonialism was anything but clean. In its wake, you have the massacres of Bataclan and Charlie Hebdo, very dark skinned North Africans hawking their trinkets outside major tourist sites, Cambodian taxi drivers, and an assortment of amazing Morrocan and Vietnamese restaurants delivering tastes of once-conquered lands...
Back in 1600, Versailles was nothing. Henry IV visited the area and stayed in an inn for hunting. His son Louis XIII built a hunting lodge there in 1623 and decided to build a chateau in 1631. Sun King Louis XIV began embellishing the palace in 1661 by extending grandiose building wings, and laying out gardens, fountains, statues, basins, and even a zoo with exotic animals to boot. For my american readers wondering who gives a fuck about France, in 1783, the Palace was the site of the signing of three treaties of the Peace of Paris which the United Kingdom recognized the independence of the United States. For those morbidly curious about France’s use of the guillotine.... within 6 years, Paris would undergo the start of its own revolution on July 14, 1789. By October 5 1789, a mob of several thousand protesting the high price of bread, marched from the markets of Paris to Versailles. Bloodthirsty, they forced Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette to return with them to Paris where their royal heads were eventually lopped off via guillotine. For those interested in more random useless trivia.... Napoleon, Emperor of the French seized control in the power vacuum in 1804, and considered making Versailles his residence, but abandoned the idea because of the exorbitant renovation costs. The Palace briefly returned to the world stage in June, 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles was signed in the Hall of Mirrors to end the First World War (but start the Second World War by inciting German resentment with its harsh terms).
Thanks, to American philanthropist, Rockefeller, who gave $2,166,000, (thirty million dollars today), to restore and refurnish the palace in 1928, Versailles was saved from shambles. Today, Versailles accommodates 7.7 million visitors a year. At 2:30, we faithfully joined the timed entry conga line through the Palace. There’s nothing worse in visiting a site than being crammed in with thousands of other people. I kept thinking to improve this conga line experience they should play Muzak, encourage people to hold on to preceding visitor’s hips and step to the beat. But I guess, our experience was akin to its heyday, when six to seven thousand persons, crowded into the buildings to keep it running. The crowds made the stuffy palace feel even more stuffy. I admired obscure things like the luxuriant wall paper, noticed how high the kings and queen’s beds were set off the ground, and was surprised Bernini’s sculpture of Louis XIV rested on a mantle. I longed to go back to the landscaped grounds outside… which we did. We walked until the soft yellow hazy sky turned purple blue.
Like aimless cattle, we were herded out en masse to find there were no regional trains from Versaillles to Paris since the transit workers were on strike. With Ubers charging $100 for a ride back into the city, we were resigned to eating in Versailles and waiting for congestion pricing to go down and riding a cheaper cab into town later at night. The kids were a little hungry from a day of strolling Versailles so we got a KFC snack for them— popcorn chicken, juice boxes, and 4 pieces of dark meat. Serendipitously as we were ordering food at KFC, I received a KFC rewards email. Weird. Apparently a guy named Han Low Meng in Singapore mistakenly put my email address for his rewards account by mistake. At the exact moment we were ordering, I was emailed his receipt and a reward for chicken nuggets. “Hi lowmenghan, Thank you for ordering! Here are the details of your order: 3x Original Recipe Chicken 1x Nuggets (3 pcs) 1x Whipped Potato (reg) 1x Pepsi (reg) 2X ORIGINAL RECIPE CHICKEN $ 7.10 1X COLESLAW (MED) $ 3.40 YOUR ORDER : 20191229-000276 DELIVERY DATE : 29 Dec 2019 ESTIMATED DELIVERY TIME : 02:20 PM ADDRESS : 07-325, 82, DEDOK NORTH ROAD, HDB-BEDOK, 460082 PAYMENT METHOD : Cash On Delivery CUSTOMER CONTACT NUMBER : 91759879 TOTAL : $ 26.60.
How does someone with a name low meng han, put down my email address? how are our names even similar? Low Meng apparently ordered a mix of nuggets and pieces of meat, and a couple sides like cole slaw and mashed potatoes and a soda. 10 days later, on January 7th I would receive another set of emails and rewards for chicken nuggets.... he apparently ordered the same food but added 2 egg tarts to this order. By his address and name and his chicken eating habits I have developed a profile of this random person through a little internet sleuthing. Asian, lives in a flat a little east of city center that costs about $300,000, orders more or less the same thing every 2 weeks, could be a lawyer or mechanical engineer based on linked-in profiles. Or maybe he’s a kid playing video games without a credit card and that’s why he pays cash on delivery. He eats erratically either early dinners or late lunches. But I digress. The kids at hand were still hungry despite our order. On the table next to us, a large group had left some pieces of chicken in their bucket along with a empty cups of soda and crinkles napkins and left. My nephew Matt kept joking “should we take the left-over chicken?” I thought young people these days have a strange sense of humor. but being the responsible adult that I am, I joked back, “why not?” It’s a little unusual. Of course the chicken was fine, but eating leftovers from another table is kind of taboo. After a few minutes of deliberations, he and ben ate the chicken out of the abandoned bucket and we left. They told me it tasted a bit stale... as if it had been left out on the table for a prolonged period of time.
We walked back towards the gates of Versailles. There were no taxis. The night sky was pitch black. Earlier during the day, thousands of people lined up in the forecourt to enter Versailles. Now the palace was dark... only a few desperate tourists were left scrambling trying to find their way back to the city. One black cab came by, an initial group balked at the price for a ride back to Paris. 60 euros. When they walked away, we gladly took the cab knowing it was 30 euros cheaper than Uber rates. The driver spoke chinese with a strange accent.... almost stuttering like a shanghainese. It is strange communicating in an unexpected language in a foreign country. My Chinese is limited, but I guess not as limited as my French. In chinese, I’m able to understand and transmit main ideas better.
“We’d like to go to the arc de Triomphe.” “Sure. Have you had a good time in Paris?” “Yes, we’ve seen so much. The Louvre, Pere lachaise, Eiffel Tower, Seine, Sacre Couer, Montmartre...“ “you’ve seen everything... too bad Notre Dame burned down” “Why is there so much traffic?” “The Parisians are returning from their beach cottages in Bretagne...” “they go there in the winter?” “Yes” “you’re lucky because of all this traffic you know. I originally came to Versailles to pick up a customer that I had dropped off from the airport earlier in the day, but the traffic made me late, the customer found another cab to get back to the city.. that’s why I was available to pick up passengers at Versailles late” “do you like Paris?” “Yes, I’ve been living here 25 years” “where did you come from?” “Cambodia” I had no idea France had extended to Cambodia and that Cambodia was integrated into the French Indochina union in 1887 along with the French colonies like Vietnam. In 1946, Cambodia was granted self-rule within the French Union and had its protectorate status abolished in 1949. “Really?” “Yes, I was helping a doctor there and when he returned to France, he offered to bring me, and i took the opportunity.” “It’s amazing you speak all these languages... French, Chinese, Cambodian...” “I had my son learn even more... Korean, Chinese, English, French, Spanish, and Cambodian” “that’s amazing” “it comes in handy for me, sometimes I get customers who pay $400 to hire me to drive them around for the day.” “What do you do with them?” “It’s crazy but rich Chinese love Louis Vuitton merchandise. I drive them to the LV store and they spend $20,000 on a bag, $8,000 for a watch, $5,000 for a wallet… LV limits the customer to 1 bag purchase... so oftentimes I help the buy an extra bag... a couple years ago I knew a worker there, and I was able to help my riders buy up to 5 bags!” As we were pulling up close to the arc nestled in the rich part of town, Trocadero, he warned us to beware of the gypsies. “Last week, I saved 2 old Chinese tourists from being mugged. If you see a gypsy. Just hit them to make them go away. Really. They’re persistent.” “Thanks for the advice.” As we closed the cab door and exited, we left the strange warm bubble that transported us 20 km from 18th century palace to a busy rotary where cars whiz by. Compared to the neat manicured abstract lawns of imperial palace of Versailles, French conquest and colonialism was anything but clean. In its wake, you have the massacres of Bataclan and Charlie Hebdo, very dark skinned North Africans hawking their trinkets outside major tourist sites, Cambodian taxi drivers, and an assortment of amazing Morrocan and Vietnamese restaurants delivering tastes of once-conquered lands...
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