First - I want to caveat this post by stating that I am not feeling any joie de vivre as of yet. I don't know when I'm going to hit that stride.
So if you want to read about how I rode down a quaint cobblestone street on my bicycle filled with baguettes, wine and cheese on my way to a picnic along the Seine, stop reading.
I am going to give you the real Paris from a New Yorker's point of view. I see a lot of shit, specifically dog shit, from my side. It comes in so many various colors here, I keep wondering what the hell they feed their dogs? In fact I stepped in some soggy dog shit my first week here. When I recount my story to French people, they ask me right away which foot it was. It was my right foot- apparently it's lucky if you step in it with your left. I say fuck it's not lucky ever, EVER--especially if you are wearing your cute mostly open patent leather black flats. Dog shit is such a part of a Parisian's every day life that they've made up a stupid thing to say to those unlucky enough to step in it.
Carefully avoiding all sorts of excrement...
Yours Truly,
Susan
