Literally an aussie in Paris: bacon
Less than a day into my trip and i found out something that might have made me change my travel plans.
The French don’t do bacon.
The horror.
How does any place live without it, i think any or all religions who are against it are against life itself.
And it’s not like i wanted bacon on that first day, or even the second, but the very thought of living in a bacon less soceity made me feel sick inside.
They have lardon, which is from a similar part of pig, but cut weird and put on the place in pieces so small it is hardly worth it.
They have like a million types of ham, but bacon is what freedom and love were built on, how could the french have missed such a vital element of living
Apparently when the french go abroad to bacon societies, they are captivated, but somehow bacon has not made its way back.
How is this possible, cheese is great too, but without bacon you are living like a heathen, and hell is too good for you my friend.
If I were to write one sentence about France, it would be, great country, shame about the bacon.
Literally an aussie in Paris: toilets
I am willing to say that perhaps i was just unlucky, but in my experience French toilets have a weird way of flushing.
Rather than a large portion of water pushing everything down, their toilets seem to work another way.
I like to call it a victory lap.
You lay your guts down, clean up as best you can be bothered and then press flush.
Instead of it disappearing, it does a few laps of the bowl, at a cracking pace, makes sure you have had a chance to say goodbye, more than once, and then gets sucked out.
It’s a bit odd.
But it’s strangely compelling.
I am not a big watch my poo kind of person, but in France i was entertained by its dramatic departure.
You can’t ask for more than that.
And you can all thank me for not putting up a photo for this post.
Literally an aussie in Paris
All the french people I have met in my life have been nice, but before last week I had never been there, now I have, and they still seem like a pleasant people.
I’d like to tell you about grunting or snobbery, or someone beating an american with baguette, but it did not happen during my week.
Not sure where they got this reputation from, but i would like to put an end to it now.
French people bent over backwards to help me, no, not like that, dammit, and since i can’t pronounce Mercy bouquet or frites correctly, I needed alot of help.
I cannot rate them highly enough as a people, or as cooks, or as hotties.
Service staff were amazingly pleasant, and made sure i got what i needed, no matter how long they had to stand there while i pointed helplessly or looked confused.
Everyone smiled at me, especially the beggar woman with the burnt head and glass eye.
They made sure I got what I asked for, and forgave my little french stumbles, and occasional english ones.
Sure they think they are cooler than most of us, but name a nationality that doesn’t believe it doesn’t something better than another.
Look at what the french have given us, 3somes, croissants and the anal sex rape scene from irreversible.
If you are a french hater, this week may not be the place for you at literally another aussie.
As i will be talking about France, and putting up photos i took.
I refuse to bag a people who believe a stick of bread is a meal.
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