Saturday, July 19, 2008


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Fresh off the train, I weaved through the crowed station. "Pardon!" "Excuse!" Jostled like an item on a conveyor belt, I was eventually spit out on the sidewalk, to take my first breaths of Parisian air. Perhaps if I was to return, I would remember what it smelled like. The amount of activity was truly astounding. In and out of the station went countless numbers of people. Cars zoomed down the street that was lined with all manner of vendors, who had created an impromptu late morning market.

Shortly our ride stopped in the middle of traffic and waved us in. With ourselves and our suitcases tossed in, off we went. Our driver was an overly excited young Frenchie, who drove who no eyes on the road, yelling into a cell phone whilst hugging me in the backseat, playfully puffing a joint and cheering in a mix of French and English, all while a cigarette was glued between his lips. Screeching to a halt, the car on the left made a right turn in front of us. "Marde!" And after much horn blowing we were off again. Our exit from the streets of Paris scared the petals off a flower cart and I thought, this might be my kind of town.

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