Today we’re going heavy on the pictures; light on words.

Using that little black book I found in the chest with the passports and other memorabelia of my father’s, I traced what could have been a hypothetical night out for one Hector del Prado  in Paris circa 1963.  Places definitely have a long shelf life in Paris, so I had a ton of ones to choose from.  A majority of the cafes, bars, restarants listed in his book are still here 40 years later.  And were probably around for 140 before that.

So picture the scene…a young, fluent-in-French, single Mexican charmer on the loose in Paris…

And then there was my father.

(Just kidding.  The only one of the above that applies to me is ’single’.  And maybe Mexican…if you count the whitey-Vermont-gringo version).

Up first…an apertif at Cafe de Flore…

Then maybe dinner here with a stunning view of Notre Dame (and perhaps also a stunning view of the French girl I’m sure he had in tow by now)…

 Maybe a post-dinner walk along the Pont Nuef for a view of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower in the BG. 

Then for some of Paris’ topless cabernet revue at the Crazy Horse Saloon…

Topped off with a night cap here…

And then, depending on how the night transpired, a stop here the next day for–in his words, jotted below the listing–”onion soup after a rough night”…

Since today’s entry is photo-centric, here’re two more for you.  Here I am at Sacre Couer overlooking Paris my first morning here.  Looking pretty bedraggled after not having bothered to go to bed after arriving late from Thailand the night before. 

Not a great view up there because the weather’s been crap, but I did get to see this guy:

Quite possibly the world’s most talented lip-syncing, guiter playing-puppet puppeteer.  I don’t know how much competition there is in the field, but this guy’s going to be tough to beat.  The guitar licks and puppet’s mouthing were dead on, and he worked a repertoire running the gauntlet from James Blunt to my personal puppet-playing favorite, Rage Against The Machine.

I tell you, one seriously starts to think they may be having a hallucinatory episode when watching a puppet lip sync, “Ya either drop the hits like de la O, or get the fuck off the commode“ atop Montmarte, with the world-famous view of Paris in the background, and tourists from all over the world swirling around you…all the while you’re riding 42 hours without sleep wondering “wasn’t I in Bangkok yesterday?”.

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Didn’t get a chance to upload those photos before blowing out of France, so I’m sending this post from Venezuela.  Just got into Caracas which was home for my mother and father after they left Manila. 

Oh, and it’s was home for one other del Prado too.  Just weeks before arriving in Caracas, my older (but far from old) sister decided to pop out and join the fun.