dogshit, dogshit everywhere and not a place to step.

apparently the french don’t believe in cleaning up after their dogs because they pay high enough taxes that, like, somebody else should really do it. i wonder if they think somebody should be wiping their ass too.

today is 9/11. i wonder if i would feel different/things would be different if i were in the states.

this morning, when everyone else went to chantilly, i went to the market at bastille. i've discovered that my train line (the 4) isn’t terribly convenient. so this morning, transferring at châtelet to the 11, there was such a strong smell of urine i might’ve even have vowed never to transfer there again. the market was very crowded with tourists and parisians. i heard many different languages: english, german, portuguese (i think), and probably more i couldn’t detect. the locals distinguished themselves by coming with small rolling carts to put all their finds in, which, of course, got in my way while trying to navigate through the chaos. most of the vendors sold fruits, vegetables, fish and seafood, cheese, bread. some sold actual meats (which grossed me out), and others sold sarongs and other tapestries. there were a few that sold kitchen appliances who were selling in the same manner as an expert infomercialer.

after i left the market, i walked to le marais to do the lonely planet’s walking tour. it’s a pretty amazing area—the streets are small and windy, the buildings are old, and then you walk into the super chic part of it which i guess is comparable to soho. there were gorgeous clothing stores (very unaffordable, though), cute bars/bistros, and very well-dressed people. walking around was great, especially with rufus wainwright accompanying me, with the random french interjected in his songs. my god i love him.

i stopped in a random bar/café on the marais to get a drink (with happy hours in effect). i sort of figured it was a gay bar because everyone in there was a man except for one couple, and the marais is the gayborhood as well, but i guess it all really made sense when i went to the bathroom and there was only a urinal in it. the urinals in a lot of these places for guys aren’t even the regular kinds we’re used to—it’s a hole in the ground. so i certainly wasn’t going to use it. let’s hope a guy doesn’t have to poo when they’re in that bar, because they couldn’t either. oh look, i’ve started and ended this post with talk of shit.