Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

As neither of us were feeling particularly spectacular this past Saturday, we decided to eschew our original museum-oriented plans in favor of visiting the canal Saint-Martin area.

The Purrito had been asking me if I wanted to go in the months previous; I admit, however, to having little interest until I learned (thanks, Stéfane le shrimpie and musée des égouts) that it wasn’t an Erie Canal-type operation (which is to say, an overgrown drainage ditch without even the charm of a donkey or two, owing to the contemporary setting), but rather a decent-sized channel that featured a couple of sets of locks.

The canal wasn’t the only thing in the area; the Purrito hinted at its hipster nature in her statement that “there’s shops and cafés that are of interest to me, and there’s mechanical bullshit for you. Something for everyone.”

Indeed, my love. Indeed.

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