We’ll always have Lynchburg Beirut Taipei Paris
Yesterday’s mystery city was, of course, Paris. Congratulations to everyone who recognized it! (I’m still musing over what the prizes should be.)
For those of you who failed to identify the City of Light, be not bummed. Dr. Socks is here to help. Are you wondering what it is about Paris that’s supposed to be so distinctive? Wondering why it’s called the most beautiful city in the world? It’s not the view of Notre Dame in the distance or the Tour Eiffel on the skyline. The key, as I hinted yesterday and as a couple of commenters noted, is the street architecture. It’s all down to a dude named Baron Haussmann, whose 19th-century urban planning created modern Paris.
If you want to get a feel for why Paris looks like Paris, check out Streetwalls of Paris at the Cyburbia urban architecture forum. It’s full of high-quality jpegs and so may take a little while to load, but it’s worth the wait. The writer takes you on a tour of Haussmanian architecture, showing how it works and why it works — and why the result is a streetscape that is livable, harmonious, and of course très, très picaresque.
22 Responses to “We’ll always have Lynchburg Beirut Taipei Paris”
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nina says:
Wahoo! I think the prize should be a trip to Paris. Hey, a girl can dream.
October 19th, 2006 at 1:15 pm EST -
will says:
Why do you hate America?
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Jimmy Ho says:
A trip outta Paris will do. Even a mental one.
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Violet says:
Jimmy, you and Nina can trade! She’s in Seattle.
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will says:
Violet, tu es ma petite pamplemousse.
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Mandos says:
I concur. Pumplemooses is where it’s at.
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Mandos says:
Mais je n’en mange guère.
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Violet says:
I ain’t nobody’s grapefruit.
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Violet says:
Meanwhile, I’ve got six winners from yesterday and I need to figure out a prize. (Grapefruit?)
Plus Will, who deserves some kind of negative award — punishment, actually — for even mentioning Manassas and Lynchburg.
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will says:
Are you denigrating Lynchburg and Manassas?
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nina says:
Will has to pay for our plane tickets to Paris.
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annared says:
Of course, Jimmy Ho gave clues (microscopic mail/trash receptacles) darn! It did not look like Paris to someone who ‘just’ lives over the Channel. Can be seen on a clear (very) day vaguely.
Thank you JH for your pointing fingers.
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annared says:
Jimmy Ho
Sorry I meant ‘street signs’ not trash.
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The Happy Feminist says:
I am embarrassed to say that I initially thought it was Boston.
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richard cherry says:
are you absolutely sure it wasn’t scunthorpe?
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Violet says:
I am embarrassed to say that I initially thought it was Boston.
As I’ve only been to Boston once, I can’t comment on the possible similarities, but I don’t usually think of Beantown as a ringer for Gay Paree.
My two Boston anecdotes:
1. I kept asking the concierge in the hotel where I could find a good restaurant, and he kept saying “gatakah?” Over and over, gatakah? gatakah? I finally figured out he was asking me if I had a car.
2. I spent my last sleepless night there writing a blues song in my head, “Bad Night In Beantown.” It totally kicks ass, too.
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Mandos says:
It’s not Boss-town that’s Euro, it’s really Cambridge. Assuming we omit the MIT campus and surrounds, especially the Stata Center.
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Mandos says:
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will says:
Nina! So nice to see you.
I would pay for you to go to Paris, but VS won’t let me.
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Viveth says:
I’m dreaming of one of those crepes from the street vendors. mmmmmmmm…
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Violet says:
Mandos: I wish Gehry would just go be a sculptor, since that’s what he wants to do anyway. He could just sit in a corner and make interesting shapes with Play-Dough and tinfoil, instead of inflicting these architectural absurdities on us. Buildings that leak, that reflect so much heat and blinding light baffles have to be put up, roofs that hold snow and then release avalanches on the sidewalk, slanted walls that give the occupants vertigo…
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Mandos says:
Oh but it’s great! There’s a bar in the hypothalamus and an athletic center in the brainstem, and the left hemisphere is the CS dept and the right contains Chomskyland…
Did you notice the eyes?
I especially enjoy the open-concept offices, especially the ones where someone else’s totally unrelated open-concept office is accidentally suspended at an angle inside another one.
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