The Life in My Years

A French Journey: On the French Road Part I. Driving Madame Cora.

Paul

April 13, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

“You’re driving in France?” That’s my friend Jenny’s response after I’ve told her that I’ll be renting a car during our trip to France. Her reaction is troubling. Not the question so much as the tone. Her inflection could’ve said, “oh how exciting,” or “what fun.” But it doesn’t. It’s more like, “have you lost your blinking mind?”

Jenny was born in France, has spent a fair portion of her adult life in France, and has driven in France. And so, her alarm is, well, alarming.

In heated tones she tells me about the nightmares of driving in Paris, and then she cools off when I tell her that I’m not driving in Paris, I’m driving in France. That said, her level of agitation goes down from a five alarm conflaguration to a sputtering birthday candle.

Once we get to Paris, and I get a look at Parisian traffic, especially the (barely) controlled chaos at Place Charles de Gaulle (home of the Arc de Triomphe), I understand Jenny’s concern.

I’ve pre-booked an Audi with Sixt at the Paris airport. I usually rent with Sixt whose slogan is, ‘Don’t rent a car, rent the car.” And If I’m driving in Europe, I want the car. I want to be Sam, Robert DeNiro’s character in the movie, Ronin. Seriously, I don’t plan on driving through vegetable stands, or dodging oncoming traffic while going the wrong way down a highway, and I have absolutely no gun play in mind. All I want is to drive a car that enhances the adventure. Not unlike driving a 1963 Corvette Sting Ray on Route 66.

In Spain, I rented a Mercedes. From the moment I started up the car, I told Cora, “I want one.” She said, “We have money, buy one.” The woman who gives me grief when I buy a 25 Euro souvenir T-shirt was giving me permission to spend at least $65,000 for a Merc. I could’ve asked her to repeat that statement while pressing record on my phone. She has a history of conveniently forgetting such permissions when I dredge them up later. I immediately passed on the notion of a Mercedes.

For a trip the previous year through Austria and Bavaria I had prebooked a BMW. Because on the Autobahn, you don’t want anything that says Honda or Nissan. Sixt didn’t give me either of those. Nor did they give me the BMW, or an Audi, or a Mercedes. They gave me a

Volvo?

Not the car –

a car.

On the Autobahn I pushed the poor dear to 115 miles per hour and eased up when it seemed like she was getting the vapors and shuddering. Meanwhile, an Audi R8 sped by in an electric blue blur.

We’re at the rental counter in Paris and I’m ready to pick up my Audi when I get buyer’s remorse, or, more accurately, a jolt of fiscal responsibility, because in six Parisian days we’ve already blown through the budget. I end up choosing a VW Polo. It’s definitely

a car

and not

the car

What would Sam/DeNiro say? It would probably be a one word answer, beginning with “p” and ending in “y.”

Monochrome Madness: The Beauty of Minimalism

Paul

19 comments

April 8, 2026

This is my first foray into the Monochrome Madness Challenge. The topic is Minimalism.

I tend to be long-winded but in keeping with the topic, I’ll keep my comments to a

mimimum.

Opuntia cactus needles. Shot through a hole in one of the pads

All three images above and the banner image were taken during COVID, when going out meant

the backyard.

Lens-Artists Challenge #392: Framing Your Shots

Paul

24 comments

April 4, 2026

This week Patti Moed has issued the challenge to share images using the technique of framing. But Patti’s challenge is a little more, uhh, challenging.

She writes, “This week, we’re focusing on one technique: framing the shot using the 3 grounds (or layers)—the foreground, the middle ground, and the background.

Foreground: the part of the scene that’s closest to the camera. Think of it as the introduction to the scene and an invitation for the viewer to explore the image.
Middle Ground: the central area of your image, between the foreground and the background. It’s often where the main subject is located.
Background: the farthest point from the viewer. It provides the context and completes the visual “story.”

Not quite so simple as just shooting through an arch at a distant building. It took some searching but I think I managed to come up with three.

I got out of our hotel before dawn to capture some photos of Old Quebec City before the hordes came out. The photo below uses Saint-Jean Gate as a frame. The middle ground is Rue Saint-Jean and the old buildings, and the background is the yellow light of dawn.

Lens-Artists Challenge #390 – Color in Black and White

Paul

17 comments

March 22, 2026

When I first saw Egidio’s challenge and the words “Black and White,” I thought, well, this is right up my alley. I love monochrome. I literally chase scenes that ask for monochrome.

And then I read on, “Even when a scene is presented entirely in shades of gray, our brains—conditioned by a lifetime of experience—can effortlessly “see” the familiar hues we expect. We project our own memories onto the print. This week, we will explore this cognitive phenomenon, showcasing how the absence of color can often create a deeper, more personal perception. That is this week’s challenge: seeing color in black and white.”

Oh. Wait.

It all seemed counter intuitive to find images that seem meant for color and transform them into black and white. It took some hunting but after a few tries it came rather naturally. I think that some images work and others . . .

The golden pyramid of the Louvre at night and it’s reflection on the pavement is a classic image. This image was taken from across a street and included the light trails of cars. I did boost the red to enhance the light trails and I increased the contrast. For me the pyramid becomes more of a bit player in this image.

Tout passe. — L’art robuste / Seul a l’éternité

Paul

10 comments

March 19, 2026

“All passes. — Robust art / Alone has eternity” ~ Théophile Gautier

Lens Artists Challenge #389: Time to Relax

Paul

6 comments

March 16, 2026

Relax. Just relax and have fun doing what you’re doing. Don’t worry so much about being results oriented. Just commit yourself to the moment.” —John Goodman

This week’s Lens-Artist prompt, “Time to Relax,” comes from Anne Sandler of Slow Shutter Speed.

Relaxation isn’t an easy thing these days. High prices, a little war here and there, social media. How do you calm the jitters?

I’ve often found relaxation in the pages of a book. I guess books are a sort of balancing act. I do read about politics which can raise the blood pressure, but before I turn off the lights at night I enjoy delving into poetry or maybe a good detective story.

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”
― Groucho Marx

There are stories, personal ones, in the pages of the books above. The Pickwick Papers, This Is My Best, and Here is Your War all came from my father’s library. The latter of the three is still timely. My heart was warmed and my faith in the future generations was boosted when my grandson asked to read Maus. Frank Deford’s, Over Time was personally autographed by the author, an accomplished sports writer whose pieces I looked forward to reading every week when my copy of Sports Illustrated arrived in the mail. I met Mr. Deford at a talk he gave at San Francisco’s Commonwealth Club. What a twist of fate that when I left the talk and turned on the radio, Giants pitcher Matt Cain was throwing a perfect game. I got home just in time to see the last inning.

The book on the far left? Required reading.

One of my favorite things is to go out for coffee and find a table in the sun and just sit and get lost in a book. The two sitting outside of a patisserie in Paris seem to be unwitting soulmates.

A French Journey: An Evening in Paris.

Paul

10 comments

March 11, 2026

An American’s observations of a first time trip to France.

It’s alternately called the ‘the bridge of wishes,’ or ‘the lover’s bridge.’ Tradition holds that lovers should kiss and make a wish when passing beneath the little span called Pont Marie. Opened in 1635, Pont Marie links the Left and Right Banks of Paris.

The photographer’s ‘blue hour’ is fast approaching. That’s the magical, oh too short, window when the sun has just set and everything takes on a blue-ish hue; when the lights of the city add points of gold and yellow and the red neons of restaurants and bars add a flourish of gaiety (as if Paris needs a flourish of anything).

I’ve made the short walk from the Saint Paul Metro Station. Standing mid-span, leaning against the sun warmed stone of the bridge I watch the throngs heading from work to home and family, or to a cafe for evening cocktails with friends, or heading for an early dinner at a bistro overlooking the Seine, to luxuriate in a cassoulet.

Or just out for a stroll,

because

good God dude, it’s Paris and that’s what you do.

I suppose you could stay home, have KFC takeout and watch reruns of Friends. In that case you don’t deserve to be in Paris. Okay, maybe Paris, Texas, or Paris, Illinois (yes they exist).

I’m waiting for Clara, my Aperture Tours guide who will take me on a three hour night photography excursion. My night photography experience is limited, hell, almost non-existent, because in America a photographer carrying around a tripod at night might as well be wearing a sign saying, ‘mug me please.’ Safety at night with a thousand dollars worth of photo equipment is one of the many topics that Clara and I will talk about during our walk.

Cora and I have been in Paris for four days and I’ve fallen in love with La Ville-Lumière. Don’t try to tell me that Parisians are snooty and hate Americans. They’ve been the friendliest, most accommodating people I’ve met anywhere. They might hate our president, and rightly so, but if they sense that you’re a sane and un-MAGA’ied American, and during your stay you’ve been tossing around some ‘bonjours’ however poorly pronounced, then you’ve become a member of the club.

Turning to look out on the Seine towards the setting sun, the clouds are irresistible. There’s enough light that I don’t have to set up the tripod. Just steady the camera on the bridge.

Lens-Artists Challenge # 388: 8000 Miles in 10 Images

Paul

26 comments

March 9, 2026

How do you render over 8000 road miles down to a small handful of photos?

That’s the challenge presented by Ann-Christine. To describe a trip in 5 to 10 images.

May 2021. COVID was just barely loosening its grip, enough that people were starting to come out of hibernation. My daughter and her two children were living with my wife Cora and I. Maybe it was the stress of the pandemic along with the home confinement that started the argument between my daughter and I, that compelled me to decide, “I need to get away.” It took less than a week for me to put together an itinerary that covered sixteen states.

Cora and I packed two suitcases, a cooler, our dog Lexi, and her dog bed into a rental van and hit the road, southbound from San Francisco to pick up iconic and quirky Route 66.

Established in 1926 as the highway to get from Chicago to Southern California, Route 66 was a nearly 2500 mile long ribbon of promise for Americans looking to achieve the dream of owning their own business. For a while the dream had been fulfilled, until the 1950s when a new Interstate Highway system bypassed a number of the towns and businesses along what had been known as the Mother Road.

Grand Canyon
From Flagstaff, Arizona we took a brief detour from Route 66 to see the Grand Canyon. While the view is indescribably spectacular, my lasting memory is seeing tears of wonder in Cora’s eyes as she looked out over the rim.

The Boat, The Beach, and The Bridge. Make Up a Story.

Paul

6 comments

March 5, 2026

It was during COVID times, when the options for escaping home confinement were few and far between. Anything indoors besides home, not so sweet home, was closed. The San Francisco streets were mostly deserted, so much so that coyotes were making themselves at home downtown.

Crissy Field Beach, on the shore of San Francisco Bay was wide open. Or maybe I should say “wide” and “open.”

It was in early January, following days of rain that I staged my own breakout and went for a walk on the rain soaked beach. The day was less than idea. In one direction, Alcatraz was invisible behind a gray mask of fog. One could only assume that the Rock was in its proper place in the middle of the bay. In the other direction the Golden Gate Bridge wore a wispy gown. In normal times one might complain. In COVID times you took what you could get.

It was less a walk than alternately splashing through the little puddles and weaving around the ponds of rainwater and tidal bay water. A romping Old English Sheepdog, who had a bath in his future, seemed to be looking for the biggest puddles slosh through.

And then there was this boat. Seemed serviceable, if beaten by both time and weather. A rope tied to the bow tethered the little craft to – nothing. Looking at the boat one could make up any number of stories. Before 1963, it could have been the subject of an escape from Alcatraz story. For me it presented an interesting photo opportunity.

I returned the next day. The weather had improved enough that the bay had shaken off its shroud and a few people had taken their sailboats out. The little beached boat was still there except the rope that had tethered the boat to nothing had been cut.

So, what was the story behind the little boat?

Beats me. Make up your own.

Saturday February 28, 2026.

Paul

6 comments

March 2, 2026

In Washington Square Park the street bound are unfurling from their makeshift bedding, rubbing beards, stretching and shielding the morning sun from their eyes. Dogs are fetching balls on the green and in the shadow of St. Peter and Paul Church the Chinese matrons in colorful garb are practicing their Tai Chi.

At venerable Original Joe’s the morning crew is busy wiping down the outside tables getting ready for the Saturday crowds. Same at The Little Red Window. Same at Tony’s Pizza. Same at Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store.

At Victoria Pastry the sun baked outdoor tables are all taken.

Liguria Bakery started selling their focaccia at 7:30. Ninety minutes later the sign on the door says, Sold Out. You don’t go to Liguria at 8 on Saturday morning expecting to bring the family a slab of rosemary-garlic focaccia unless you’re into receiving verbal flagellation, “What do you mean, they’re broke? You useless fuck. You couldn’t get your ass out of bed earlier to get in line at 7:00?”

Already approaching 70 degrees (21 C. in the civilized world) life here in San Francisco’s North Beach is good. Very good.

On the other side of the world?

Not so much.

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