browneyedmoo

I had the most incredible experience along the Champ Elysees. Even now, four years later, I’m reminded of it when I ride the NYC subways and encounter a variety of mentally ill homeless individuals.

It was my first trip to Paris and to say I was excited is like saying New York is just another city – it’s not! When I was a little girl, while other kids were dreaming of going to Disney world, I had dreams of the Eiffel Tower dancing in my head.

One of the things I wanted to do was stroll along the Champs Elysees. On that fateful spring day as I strolled savoring the Parisian atmosphere and pinching myself because it had not yet penetrated my brain that I was in Paris, I came upon a case of human degradation that surprised even me – a child raised in New York city.

A homeless lady was walking along in front of me searching for food and other items. I was paying attention to her but not intently. When she stopped, I focused my attention a little closer (in case she was crazy and made any sudden moves – hey, it’s the NY in me) and slowed my pace. When she squatted down and dropped trou, I came to a standstill, unbelieving of what was taking place in my dream city. I stood transfixed as the heavy stream of goldish-yellow escaped rapidly from her body. I remained in a daze but satisfied to believe that she would soon leave and that this blemish on my dreams could be erased from my memories. Oh, how naïve I was.

She remained in squatting position even after the stench had evaporated from the air. My eyes were now riveted to that one spot – unfortunately. Even now I wonder if I would have rather not had this experience. The homeless lady strained and pushed and defecated along the Champ Elysees. To add the final piece of my trauma – she reached behind her, scooped out a piece from the ground and proceeded to eat her feces. The only sentence that I was able to process for the next few hours was “This did not just happen in Paris, France.” Oh but it did!

During my first trip to Paris I stayed at a hotel on the outskirts in a predominantly Muslim neighborhood. My Canadian roommate and I were strolling the streets (in the middle of the night – hey, I’m from Brooklyn, why would I even think to be scared of Paris of all places!) searching for a cab (my New Yorker thinking) to take us into Central Paris. Finding a cab turned out to be the last of our concerns. In our search, we turned into a dimly lit street and just happened to look down and boy I’m glad we did. In bold, chalky letters on the floor were the words “Kill Americans.” Needless to say, I pledge allegiance to Canada the whole quick (and I do mean quick) “stroll” back to our hotel room. Thank God my other trips back were much nicer.

May I suggest NEVER trying to cross that street on your own (if you are a foreigner) – unless of course you have a death wish. Otherwise it was fantastic :).