un-nouncements

and recos for five days in Paris with your favorite teen

Good morning, lovely humans. It’s Monday, August 11, and in the unannounced hiatus since my last post, the teen and I took a long awaited graduation trip to Paris (pics + recs below!).

We left on a Friday night, the same day that I sent final edits to superbly supportive editor John Garza. Coming Spring 2026 is my book, Beyond Laudato Si’: Ecotheology, Equitable Futures, and the Papal Turn to the Earth. And then we went to Paris.

Infused with the delirium of a long-term project copiously footnoted and the optimism of one who has been too-long habituated to overproductivity, I was CONFIDENT that I’d write a steady stream of Moments of Zenner. HA! In lieu of narratives of liminality that are too close to render, I will summarize the last month via baitclickily-effective PureWow horoscope for this week of August 11 ((dear reader, sometimes I cringe while citing my sources)):

“Mercury retrograde ends on August 11th, wrapping up a review process we’ve been working through since July 18.” You don’t say.

So anyway:

5 Days in Paris: City of Light with my Favorite Teen

Pedestrian-friendly cities, human-facing social habits, and all the croissants: yes please. We kicked it off with a Devour Food Tour of the Marais. Our superb tour guide was ofc named Emily. Our little crew had great energy: One Australian really wanted to find a MAGA supporter with whom she could sit down and pose some questions (did not succeed); travel influencer Raimee from Detroit was rocking a solo trip (we made it into her reel!).

^ Pastrami sandwich from Sacha Finkelsztajn, Jewish deli in the Marais, on the Rue des Rosiers

^ Le Marché Des Enfants — get the oysters, then head to the Moroccan couscous stand.

^ Honestly … who doesn’t need one?

Emily taught us that Bonjour is a full and necessary sentence when entering a shop or establishment — such a different approach from the NYC and suburban norm. I loved it. To greet other humans and be acknowledged in return but without the expectation of conversation is a lovely thing. To greet other humans as humans and be acknowledged in return felt healing and radical, a quotidian resistance to fascist dehumanization and unrelenting political and military bombast. Bonjour. I see you, and for this moment, we share a space.

Our next stop was the Louvre, to gaze upon gazers upon the Mona Lisa:

We mused about Renaissance depictions of stylized famous-person deaths (winners: St. Denis-with-the-ax-through-his-head, and Cleopatra with a nipple-focused adder).

We visited the modest Islamic Art exhibit, discussed colonial seizure of artifacts, and and admired the calligraphic expressions — here, a collection of bismallah:

I also showed the teen my favorite (and remarkably ubiquitous) archaeological-museological placeholder for “we don’t know what this was” — the placeholder is, of course, the category of “religious object.” As with a … sauce boat? Why, yes. The placard (pictured below) reads: “Its function is uncertain; it may have been used in religious rituals to make libations.”

Ah yes. Religion. Very serious stuff. I mean despite the conjecture that a “sauce boat” may have contained “sauce,” surely the ancients liked to libate right? So if we say it’s “religious” people will nod seriously and not ask too many questions … phew.

^ What does “religion” mean here? What kind of ritual? Why a libation? With what kind of substance? So many questions, none of them suggested in the text.

Religion: the great idiopathic diagnosis of archaeology/museology.

There was also a neat “Louvre Couture” exhibit that placed women’s European haute couture attire in the apartments of Napoleon III. Here are my faves:

And there’s so much more. Boat tour on the Seine at 10 pm, overlapping with midsummer sunset. Fireworks on Bastille Day, where the police (working for the populace) held traffic so people could stream into the street to watch. A spontaneous self-guided tour of embassy exteriors, and how their architecture and security presence communicate political priorities.

And of course, some dining recommendations:

• Adela on the Rue du Fauborg Poissonière

• Chez Michel for classic French

• F.I.E.F. (fait ici en France) for our first Michelin-starred meal - exquisite

• Crepes from a vendor by the Eiffel tower

• All the cheese and baguettes!

Special thanks to stellar humans who gave us lodging advice, foodie tips, and other recos — especially MC, JB, RB, KG, MS, and of course RA who met us there for several glorious meals and a morning near Sacre Coeur.

What’s next?

The teen and I will soon depart for college drop-off. In this liminal, momentous stage the teen is entirely ready in every way, best summarized by “lfggggg!” [*]

[*] lfggggg = teen text language for “let’s effing gooooooooooooo!” (idk why ggggg.)

I am also ready, but differently so. A lot of “let’s do this, YOU RULE!” and a lot of “bearing witness to a human becoming themselves over decades is a sacrament that spirals time and sometimes means you weep in the car park right after laughing uproariously together” kind of way.

And then, for the first time in many years, I will not be leaping into teaching this fall. Instead I’m on a research fellowship, which allows time for writing and reflecting, living and exhaling. It’s time.

There’s much to share here, to be resumed energetically in the fall. But meanwhile, I hope that each of you is finding your August cadence, the sweetening of tomatoes, the soft lavender of gloaming.

Until soon — have courage, greet people with intention, resist fascism, and be kind.
~ CNZ