"i love my neighborhood - i pick up"

a little something i'm proud of... if you count my study abroad in aix-en-provence in 1997 and our last sojourn here in 2006-7, i think you'll agree that i've spent a good chunk of time in france. and in all that time, i've not once stepped in or slid through dog poop. "huh?!" you're saying, but this is actually pretty impressive. as anyone who's ever spent even an afternoon in paris can attest, the sidewalks here are littered with dog poop. in the past, i think the french were proud of the poop. or perhaps they considered it as unimportant as nudity on television or the president's sex life, issues that rattle some on american soil, but not here. but i think times are a-changing. not about the sex – no, you're still more likely to see a woman's breasts in a yogurt commercial than the yogurt itself, and i've lost count of all the perfect little bums i've seen plastered in metro stations and bus stops selling one thing or another – but it seems as though the french might just be ready to embrace the idea of poop-scooping:

you see this sign posted all over the place. this one is right around the corner from our apartment, in fact. the translation is "i love my neighborhood, i pick up." the "poop" part is only implied in the structure of the sentence, but the picture more than compensates for any grammatical ambiguity – we're clearly not talking here about weeds or lost children or wandering porn stars, as may be the case in amarillo. speaking of texas, it almost reminds me of the very successful, if sometimes *misunderstood, anti-litter campaign back in the lone star state.

it's all about tapping into the parisians' pride in their neighborhoods and in their city, right? it works in texas, it could work here! it could, but so far, it hasn't. while i have seen some diligent locals following pouffé the family poodle around with plastic bags, the sidewalks don't lie. i have noticed some guilty looks from the person standing there feigning interest in a book store window or intently examining a torn hem or a broken heel while their beloved pooch does his thing. what really impresses me, though, is the creative résitance some neighbors have shown to the pressure to ramasse – hoisting bruno the bichon frisé onto a garden wall, dragging ti-ti the terrier under a park bench, or very simply, taking to the street. for just as i snapped this picture and began to ponder the potential of a poop-free paris, i turned around to see a woman lead her little dog into the middle of the street – oncoming traffic be damned, tires with deep tread beware – and boldly stand there while the dog... well, you get the idea.

so, though progress has been made, it's clearly still not safe to wear flip flops or look up when walking.

* i met a guy once in minneapolis, who, after learning i was from texas and asking if i was a skinhead, said he thought "don't mess with texas" was some kind of pro-gun, "don't come to texas or we'll blow you away with our shotguns" message. how do you continue a conversation with someone like that? hint: you don't.