Fezzik In Paris

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

Having learned our lesson last year (Saturdays should be considered no-go days), we attended the 2016 version of the Salon de l’agriculture on Sunday, and had a much better time for it.

While the crowds were still significant, we were able to wander through areas which we’d had to bypass last year due to the amount of human traffic, though an entertaining feature of our choice of days proved to be what we termed the cow parade; those of us in the dead space between point A and point B were periodically herded off to one side to make way for small groups of cows that were being led to the various competitions. I feel compelled to report that in addition to the irony component (we’re moving up from Alanis-level irony to actual irony, which I view as progress), I learned that among the cowherds, there’s one poor bastard that is responsible for wiping the cow’s ass after it shits on the floor as it’s making its way down the aisle.

I admit that I’m somewhat traumatized by this newfound knowledge.

Highlights of this year’s show include:

  • Our absolutely miserable failure at a quiz game sponsored by the EU’s department of agriculture, though we did come away with a couple of neat posters and a harrowingly brisk conversation with a man who appeared to be overjoyed at talking to two people who didn’t loathe the European Union;
  • Learning that the Purrito is fluent in the language of the Île-de-France breed of sheep (the chain baaa-ing reaction she initiated had us laughing for a longer time than was strictly appropriate); and
  • The acquisition of a damn fine hunk of parmesan cheese (and a less-fine hunk of something Swiss; I might feel better about the probable final disposition of said block of cheese if pigeons were eaters of cheese).

Given the opportunity, we would undoubtedly return.

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