Dog Shit In Paris (and other sites)

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Who needs a Pooper Scooper? Well surely not our good friends in France. Dog shit on a paris sidewalk(every sidewalk) is like a star in the sky, untrampled, untouched, and perfectly formed. Like the rest of Paris, even the dog shit is romantic and ornate as if it were placed with great care by the "hand" of god, yet you know it was not. I formed constellations in my mind as I watched my step, though it was difficult with my eyes constantly distracted by some gargantuan piece of architecture at every turn.

After Pamplona, I met up with a friend in Bordeaux and we made our way to Paris, mostly by train. We rode up along the coast through the Medoc wine region and crossed Gironde River by Ferry. From Sainte we took the train to Orleans, with a night in Poitiers.

After two days of riding, we stayed with a family in a tiny village in the Bourgone region south of Paris, The Pinots. One of the few remaining traditional farm families in France, they produce alot of their own food and trade for much of the rest. Their only income comes from selling small amounts of their homeade wine. We milked their cow, stacked hay and wood, and consumed mass quantities of their homeade cream, cottage cheese, and butter.

Reluctantly we left after three days and rode into a steady rain toward paris. The next day we did the last stretch by train into the center of the city. After riding on bikepaths along the canals and navigating through the busy streets we met up with a warmshowers host at the bookshop they own in east Paris. The couple was extremely hospitbale and put us up in their aparatment in the suburbs. By day we wandered around on foot and by night we ate and got drunk with our hosts. We moved on to another friend/connection in the Paris suburbs and stayed with them. I had one last look at Paris, wandering along the Seine until midnight with an uncorked bottle of wine in my fist.

I left Paris beneath its streets, on the subway. I pushed by bike and bike-box akwardly through the underground tunnels, on and off trains, and finally threw everything in a bike box at the airport. After a huge hassle and delay by baggage people, I barely made my plane. On the nine hour flight to Detroit, I ordered a steady supply of whiskey and cokes while wathcing Planet of the Apes and Fight club. I flatlined at 40,000 ft., somewhere over Iceland.

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Comments

[unamerican cunt]

thing one and thing two
That thing and the other thing were nice, but strange happenings in the Pantheon three will stick with me the rest of my days.

[Sasquatch]

That other thing
Sasquatch reminded of Paris junkett of wasted youth. Not easy to dodge le merdes du chien with size 24 feet. Inside That Other Thing, him imagine himself French peasant beholding such glory circa 15th century. The awe would almost wipe away the drudgery of cleaning up le merde du roi et le merde du hommes et le merde du femmes....well, him would just forget for awhile. Him pay 5 francs to thieving priests, light novena for Yeti. Later vomit up litre of vin ordinaire on passing poodelle.