France truly is the country of lovely bums. I'm not talking about well mannered begging folk. No no. Arses. Fantastic. I was remarking upon this to 5x in Paris the other day, and he told me it was all the steps. Well, get me a portable chairlift because it's one city delightfully formed.
There is, of course, also the question of the architecture, the wine, the arses, the FOOD, the arses, les jardins, the bookshops and the arses, but the arses win it for me.
I'm being bawdy and I don't care, I'm in France away from all potential admonishment.
The three days in Paris were topmost. I arrived on Saturday, dropped my bags and immediately set about finding 5x. We drank until my stomach burst - blocked a sink in the process - with the culprit a stout named, craply, the Dark de Triomphe.
On Sunday came the tourist nonsense. He brought me to Shakespeare And Company from 'Before Sunset,' St Louis et St Michel, Montmartre, the Eiffel Tower, Montparnasse and a class little pub called La Belette near his home. All the while we tried to out-word each other and he won.
He left yesterday so I spent Bastille Day wandering aimlessly the streets, drinking wine and coffee and being very pseudo-Parisien indeed.
Took the TGV today and came south to Marseille. Just had a brief taking of it in before coming to check my correspondance, and I'm going to like this place for the next three days.
Going back to the train, it's ridiculously efficient. I travelled the length of France in the space of three hours, and only had to pay a supplementary tenner for the pleasure. Take that Iarnrod Eireann.
Still settling in to the loneliness factor, quite bizarre to not know a soul, and this idea of a coterie of backpackers to drink against hasn't materialised yet, but hopefully it will in short time. Accommodation is proving more expensive than I thought, et j'espere que, eh, it becomes cheaper en route.
Oh, and it's sunny ta fuck.