Tuesday, August 4, 2009

L. Monday- smelling of Wal-Mart

Most of my weekend was spent finishing the one book in our host's
collection that didn't promise to end in heartrending despair. It
ended up being very good, but rebrowsing the multiple shelves did not
suggest any good next reads. I tried reading the first few chapters of
3 different books, but discarded all of them. I decided part of Monday
would have to be spent hunting down another English book store.
Thankfully, there are several in Paris.

D. and I parted ways in Montmarte- a very colorful neighborhood that
had more personality than any other I'd seen in Paris and with street
artists. For being the city of artists, I thought I'd see more of
these, but until then I had only seen people selling the same old
prints of the Eiffel Tower and old Moulin Rouge posters. But like
everything else in Paris, the street artists were ridiculously
expensive. A 4×6 canvas was going for 70-90€. Despite the charm of
Montmarte visually, it had a rather strong odor-Eau de Urine, shall we
say. I couldn't help thinking that a few more free public restrooms
might solve that problem. That day I don't know if there was something
in the wind or what, but every subway line was just reeking with
urine. I did manage to find some books, but by the time D. found me I
was tired, and could no longer take the nasal affront. I informed him
that France and I were not getting along and I wanted to go home. I
compared my day to Jon Stewart's description of the Wal-Mart bathroom-
smelling of urine, tears, and broken dreams.

He laughed, hugged me, and told me of his wonderful discovery. He
promised me tomorrow I could have the American triumvirate of M's:
mall, movie, and Mcdonalds. I instantly felt better.

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