The french and Poo

So something we've noticed since our arrival is that French people seem to have no problem with the smell of poo. Our second hotel room on the 7th floor had a lovely view over the rooftops of Paris out to the Sacre Coeur and Montmatre. But it had a horrible, potent stench of poo that permeated the room despite our best efforts to get some airflow happening. Eventually Pies managed to track the source to the shower drain....I can't even put into words how truly vulgar the smell was. In the end, Pies used a bit of kiwi ingenuity and stuffed the drain with big wodges of toilet paper which alleviated the problem but meant that we couldn't shower. We were willing to sacrifice cleanliness for fresh air.

True to the cliche there is dog poo everywhere...and it seems to have been trodden on everywhere too and smeared across the footpath. I hate to think how many Parisians take a little doggy delight home with them attached to their shoe each night. Being absentminded, I always forget to keep my eyes peeled for the offenders so Pies has to walk beside me pushing and pulling me out of the way to avoid incident. Our apartment is just too small for Pies, me and a turd.

The third piece of evidence that confirms the French predilection for poo is the cheese. Already Jamie seems to have mastered the art of picking the most pungent varieties and bringing them around to our house to share. They are beastly. I seriously wonder how they manage to make something edible smell so much like an arse. C'est incroyable!! If you manage to figure out a way to block the nasal passage, the taste is none too bad but, even wrapped in its little box, all you need to do is open the fridge door to be hit by a wall of faeces particles that attacking your nostrils.