Sunday, March 27, 2011

Start the week "en fanfare"!

When I saw this band today I immediately thought of a French expression that goes "faire quelque chose 'en fanfare'" (to do something triumphantly, or at least with a lot of positive energy). Fanfare means marching band, like this one I photographed at Place de l'Hotel de Ville. So let me wish you to start the week "en fanfare", like the one we're going to have in Paris where the sun is going to shine all week ;-)
BTW, I just had dinner with someone the regular visitors to PDP all know: Alexa (who is currently visiting Paris ;-) Great to see her again after meeting her first in NYC in 2008.


  1. Wishing you a wonderful week too! Enjoy the sun! So glad you had a chance to see another of the PDP faithful! xo A

  2. Yes, say hello to Alexa, who also comments regularly on the Venice Daily Photo, I believe.

  3. Hope Alexa has a great stay in could she not? ;-) Cool you could meet again. Time to strike up the band and wish you a week of sunshine and golden memories.

  4. Love the photo of my neck of the woods, Eric! Everyday deserves a fanfare in the Marais, n'est-ce-pas?!? And The Carousel favourite.

    So happy you dined with Alexa! Have a wonderful time on your sojourn, Alexa...and keep your eyes peeled on April Fools for étrangers bearing paper fish and tape!

  5. I'm so glad the sun is going to shine for you this week! That is worth any amount of fanfare. I'm really looking forward to more sun this week, and I hope you enjoy it just as much.

    So happy that you got to have dinner with Alexa! (Hope you have and are having a fantastic trip, Alexa! :)

  6. Oooh... One of my favourites!

    (c)1957 M. Willson

    Seventy six trombones led the big parade
    With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand
    They were followed by rows and rows of the finest virtuosos;
    the cream of every famous band.

    Seventy six trombones caught the morning sun
    With a hundred and ten cornets right behind
    There were more than a thousand reeds springing up like weeds,
    There were horns of every shape and kind

    There were copper bottom tympani in horse platoons
    Thundering, thundering, all along the way
    Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons
    Each bassoon having his big fat say

    There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery
    Thundering, thundering, louder than before
    Clarinets of every size and trumpeters who'd improvise
    A full octave higher than the score

    Seventy six trombones hit the counter point
    While a hundred and ten cornets played the air
    To the rhythm of 'Harch Harch Harch!'
    All the kids began to march
    And they're marching still, right today