Into the looking glass.

As I took those first halting steps into the unknown it became immediately clear that the world, my world, has changed forever. It's a new planet I'm visiting now, and whether the future brings me back round to the places I've known and loved or on into the bright, but lonely, newness, I know the act of those steps has made its mark.
So, about this new world:
I arrived in London Thursday. Excellent timing, as my good pal and former band-mate Johnny 5 was playing in town with Tegan and Sara (like Tintin's Tomson and Thompson, only shorter moustaches). So I connected with my hosts, Lor and David, then met up with Nic (another friend from Nasvhille times) and her mother. Nic's mother is exactly like her, only more crazy, if you can believe that. I suggest we refer to her as "mother superior". Nic added "mother inferior", and Janice named herself "mother posterior". Oh my but we all had a good larf! The show was great. Johnny played with more vivre than I've ever seen from him. Really fun times.
So, after spending all but two hours of Tuesday night packing, Wednesday night on the plane and Thursday night...not in bed, I departed for France early Friday morning. I've said for a while that I choose to ignore the idea of jet lag and it seems to work out fine. The problem with jet leg is that it's kind of like God. As they say, it doesn't matter if you don't believe in jet lag; jet lag believes in you. Suffice--> i discovered i was fine as long as I didn't sit down.

It was wonderful to be back in Paris. Not that I needed it, but it was good to be reminded why I fell in love with that city. I spent the day there, just wandering and visiting old haunts: the place where we used to drink beers after long days in sessions, the spot on the canal where would pass around bottles of white wine and paper cups, the apartment where I stayed (tried to ring up but seems noone was home), the shop where I bought my favourite shoes of all time (if that seems an unlikely attraction you have not seen how cool are these shoes), the café where I went with friends to eat ice cream after watching a film. It was beautiful. I left that evening via train for Burgundy. My good friend Anne-Lorraine's family has a "house" (read "pre-revolution mansion") in a little village near Beaune (wine drinkers will know where this is, and would be enraged with jealousy if I was callous enough to let them know what we drink out of tumblers with dinner...). At any rate, this place deserves many entries of its own, and this one is already long enough, so I bid you adieu.

Here are a couple of pics.