Ah Paris. City of filth.

But don’t let that discourage you.  If you think you should go,  then by all means.   

 

Having been there a few times,  and having lived there,  I do tend to watch where I walk.  There were a couple times there when I had to steer Travelling Companion around some dog shit,  which isn’t to say that this sort of problem doesn’t exist in Vienna.  

We got some of that too!  Yes sir,  gotta keep up with Paris!   Why,  just this morning I damned near stepped in something that looked like it came out the hind end of a Great Dane.  Or fell off the back of a truck.   It was quite the heap. 

Unfortunately,  there had been a couple hapless victims who had already squished it here and there,  so actually evading any contact was all the more difficult.   Oh,  I just so love city folk with shittin’ dogs!   Good thing I don’t pack heat.

Personally,  that’s probably one of the many reasons why I don’t happen to have a dog.  I’ve had dogs over the years,  don’t misunderstand.  I love doggies.  It’s just that I’m not overly keen on handling warm dog poop,  (makes me gag) and since I’ve lived in some sort of city environment for the last 30 years or so,  picking up whatever comes out the ass end of a dog has precluding me ever having one. 

During those times when I did have a dog, oh so many years ago, he or she would poop on the grass on our property,  after which,  with the assistance of a long handled shovel, (note previous gag comment) I would promptly remove the steaming little heap of dog doo to a more appropriate location. 

Not over the neighbour’s fence either.  That’s another story.  No no, my dog.  My poop.  My problem.   Your dog poop on my grass?  Your problem, or it will be.   For reasons of possible recrimination, I don’t dare offer any further explanation.

But there’s more to the filth of Paris than just the dog poop.  And by the way,  the officials have for many years now been “clamping down”  on the scoff laws who don’t pick up their doggie poop.   Your first impression would be that it has made very little difference,  but let me tell you! 

Back in the day,  when I lived there in ‘78,  NOBODY picked up their dog crap!  By two in the afternoon you dared not look anywhere but at the sidewalk.  I kid you not!  There were a couple hundred thousand dogs in the city of Paris at that time,  and every single one of them seemed to take a dump right where I needed to walk.   Thankfully,  the streets of Paris got cleaned each and every morning.   So,  getting to class first thing in the morning when it was still dark?  Not a problem.  Going home in the afternoon?  Look out buddy!

How am I doing with the “Paris Travelogue” bit so far?  

 

Of course,  the first challenge for any of these trips for me,  is where to stay.   We’ve only ever stayed at the same place twice when it comes to going to Slovenia,  as it happens,  so there’s always a certain amount of research involved when it’s a big city such as Paris.   The shopping area for fabric is just under Montmartre,  so I knew we wanted to be somewhat close,  but then there was the possibility of being a bit closer to the train station.   Oh lordy.

Can you make sense of that map?  Don’t panic if you can’t,  the booking.com maps don’t exactly show all the street names,  so it’s a little tough.

I know I’ve grumbled about this in the past,  and I do realise that the job these days is heaps easier with websites such as Tripadvisor or Booking.com.    But that’s the thing,  then I get hung up on too many choices and I can’t decide.   Back in the “old days”  you had your trusty travel agent,  who would hopeful not steer you wrong.   He or she had probably visited the place,  and was able to tell you first hand what to expect.   Just the same,  there are a lot of hotels in a city like Paris to choose from,  so no travel agent is going to be able to give you the low down on say,  the 1535 hotels listed by Booking.com.    Tripadvisor lists 1823.  

Let’s just read the reviews of every single one,  shall we?

 

Well,  I did narrow the choices down to about a dozen or so,  and I didn’t do too badly.  Not only could T.C. and I walk from the train station to the hotel,  but it just so happened that there was a bus stop within 20 metres of the front door.  The nearest metro stop,  Poissonnière,  was a little farther off,  but still manageable.  Travelling Companion only has so many steps in those knees,  so we’re always having to calculate distances and whether or not she can make it. 

As it was,  there was at least one cab ride involved after we had done the shopping for fabric on the first day.   (Yes!  First day! Done!)  We hadn’t even checked into the hotel yet,  but were able to drop off our luggage and head off. 

There’s an exceedingly good chance that climbing up to Sacré-Coeur might have had something to do with it.

 

Note shopping bags full of material.

 

Believe it or not,  I’ve never actually been up to this church.  I’ve seen if from afar.   I’ve been really close by car,  but never on foot. 

You’re certainly welcome to click on that link above and read all about it.

 

 

I’ll only offer this picture to prove I was there.

Yup,  that’s me.   Of course,  you’d believe me if I told you I had been there,  wouldn’t you?  We don’t make up shit here.   This ain’t no fantasy.  It’s either boring or not,  but it is,  what it is.

Speaking of which,  I think I’ve reached my “edge of boredom”  in the word count department.   We haven’t talked about fabric,  the train ride, the other filthy bits of Paris.   You know,  good stuff.

 

So it looks like I’ll drag this out for at least a day or two. 

I’ll have to sort through them of course,  but at some point I’ll add a link to the pictures that I’ll put on the book of face.   

Y’all come back.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

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