There is an easy solution to the Paris bike scheme chaos – just buy your own 

Bike-sharing schemes in Paris have been left in a disastrous state thanks to bad management and vandalism, but there is an easy solution for keen cyclists, writes Ben McPartland. And it’s far better than Velib.

“…the ambition of Paris to become a cycling city like Copenhagen has taken a huge knock, despite the city vowing to construct more cycle lanes and shift the emphasis from four wheels to two”

Read more: There is an easy solution to the Paris bike scheme chaos – just buy your own – The Local

My Life in Paris: Montmartre, Movies and Machine Guns, An Essay

In her latest must-read column from Paris, Theadora Brack pays homage to her favorite film, “Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain.”

The sky is electric blue and the air is chilly. Propped up against a rock wall near Brassaï’s 285 steps on rue Foyatier, I watch the carousel spin under the gaze of the Sacré-Cœur. As a nearby street band plays Quizás, Quizás, Quizás over and over, the aroma of Nutella crêpes, salted French fries, and barbe à papa(cotton candy) tickles my nose.

Here in Montmartre’s fabric district, winged scissors graffiti rule the skinny rues. Easily unravelled by the mere sight of spools of yarn, patches, pompoms, and tassels, along with furbelows, bonnets, and bolts of toile de Jouy, this shiny sequinned quarter has never failed to woo my inner do-it-yourselfer.

It’s eleven in the morning. I’m waiting for the doors of Halle Saint-Pierre to open.

IN AMÉLIE’S FOOTSTEPS

Housed in a former 19th-century food market, the museum is similar in spirit to Switzerland’s Collection de l’Art Brut and Baltimore’s American Visionary Art Museum, featuring both contemporary and historic works by self-taught and fringe artists. The current exhibition gives props to movie props, specifically ones created by filmmakers Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Over the moon, my hands are shaking. See, I’m about to pay homage to my favourite movie: Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain.

I’ve seen the green-filtered confection at least 50 times. If it’s a crime, then I am guilty! But my declaration doesn’t stop there [ . . . ] More at source: My Life in Paris: Montmartre, Movies and Machine Guns, An Essay