Rue de doggy poo (the road of...)

So Paris is all strange and beautiful. Or so i thought, but on closer inspection, this divinity seemed to melt, and I found myself in just another city, far more beautiful than any other I had been to, but not quite the heavenly refuge from humanity that I had envisioned.

Turns out there are homeless people in Paris, a lot less than what you would find on the footpaths of Delhi, but perhaps the greater contrast that you see here between the homeless and the homes in whose shade they live increases the shock you recieve at seeing them. Even two streets away from the Eiffel, you can see sun-tanned, glassy eyed people sitting on benches with a hopelessness that seems to mock the smiles on passing faces, answering nature`s calls sitting between two parked cars, or guarding there life`s possessions in polythene bags pilfered perhaps from one of the garbage bins lining the extremely clean streets. It`s nothing to hold against the city, for I doubt if it is possible for any human city to not have at least some of her denizens spending their lives on the streets (the vatican maybe, but then you would scarcely count that as a human city).

Then there are beggars too...again, nothing like the pity-demanding flood of decaying human spirits that accosts you at traffic signals in Delhi, and certainly not in the city`s heart, but in the RER that joins her to the suburbs. To be honest, they seem to be almost no bother compared to the haggling, almost threatening professionals you see back home, but they are enough to make you question utopian reputations.

Now to the title of this post...a small street along the river, starting from the bridge near Porte Versailles, on the side of the 16eme, and lined with dog shit and dried (hopefully) dog urine.