Butts and Dots

As a dog owner and novice city dweller, it has become incumbent upon me to be more vigilant about where Reilly and I tread.  Not only must we pay attention to the droppings of four-footers, but we must also attend to the leavings of the two-footers who should know better. 

Reilly is petite and low to the ground.  Her nickmane is Hoover because she is constantly snuffling along the ground ready to suck up any prizes that may be found.  In a city of ten million people, there is plenty to be found and not much is to be prized!

Today as we made our way to the public garden, we had to dodge so many lit cigarettes and smouldering butts, that I was sure ma petite choux was going to get burned.  It really is shocking to me that the City of Lights is also the City of Those who Light Up!

Ah, Paris the City of Lights...it is also the City of Butts and Dots.  When one looks around in Paris, you see unique architecture, statues, colors, posters and more.  When one looks down, you see butts and dots.  Cigarette butts litter the sidewalks, gutters and the base of every poor tree in the city.  I swear if the Department of Health took ground water and soil samples they would find them poisoned with tar, lead and nicotine! 

And speaking of poison, do the citizens of Paris who praise beauty, create every conceivable lotion and potion to ensure smooth, young skin realize they are poisoning themselves, inside and out?

Smoking is surely the affliction and addiction of the young.  It is the thing to do when you have nothing to do-- Nothing to do in Paris-- Really? But the young people find it tres chic to stand in doorways and along the gutters, draped in their scarves, puff, puff, puffing their youth away.  And when they are done rather than walk five feet up or down the street to the nearest trash container...they drop their butts right where they stand.  Honteux.

Now Dots!  Another scourge upon the sidewalks of Paris.  As I was walking back from Starbucks (more on that in another post) along the Blvd St. Germaine, I was struck by the plethora of dots on the sidewalk~and then it hit me, literally...a wad of gum flying out of the mouth of a housepainter!  Fortunately for me it bounced off my coat and onto the sidewalk, right next to a...you guessed it...cigarette butt.

The French are adept at dodging all the detritus on the walkways, thus the gum dots are on the walks and not the shoes.  It is quite a feat and a very unique sight to see the fast paced Parisians bob and weave and occasionally hop, skip or jump over the potential shoe spoiler.

I am not quite as adept yet, although I try to keep a wary eye. Bill is an utter failure...largely due to his crackberry addiction, he rarely watches where he is going and we have had to scrape some pretty disgusting stuff from his shoes. My eye has wandered to the architecture or to a store front window and once, ssslipppp...I stepped on a piece of apple tossed on the walk.  At least it wasn't dog crap! 

It is ironic that this situation exists.  Paris has a Santitation Department par excellence!  There are trash containers every 10 to 50 feet depending on the street, park or place.  And, there are crews of men in green jumpers who ride around in trucks all day, emptying the trash containers and putting fresh liners in quite regularly.  Street sweepers are out in force all day.  The sidewalks and gutters get washed down regularly by sanitation trucks and store owners.  Yet, the people chew and spit and smoke and flick and dogs poop and pee and their owners just hustle on by.  Incroyable!

As Reilly and I left the public garden today, I saw one of these guardians of the city, in his green jumpsuit and I smiled and said, "Merci."  He looked at me in a puzzled way, smiled the smallest, sheepish smile I have ever seen and proceeded to spear a wrapper from a Big Mac before it blew off into a flower bed. 

I left the garden with my head held high, until I stopped short because Reilly became a 100 pound anchor when she found a piece of bread, which I promptly wrestled from her mouth...one, two, six, ten...all fingers intact! C'est la vie!