Last day in Paradise and off to Proud Paris

Judging by the pictures, I got up later than usual that day (I'm completing this post 2 weeks after)

As I said before:  Different every day; every minute:

Breakfast and packing are next and then it's time to take the bike to the train station (along the scenic route ;-)

Au revoir castle in the sand

Au revoir Plage du Sillon

Au revoir market day

Au Revoir Saint Malo !

There is a reservable (no extra charge) bike spot in the TGV. Vive La France !!

Apparently Graffiti is NOT illegal in Rennes

After 3 hours of TGV travel (420 car km), the bike arrives at Paris Montparnasse

Traffic in Paris seems to be worse than usual

Car drivers are arguing with traffic cops

What is going on?

I hear loud music. And I see a lot of garbage trucks. A garbage workers strike?

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Then I see that the garbage trucks are cleaning up what is left behind by a parade in front of them.

It is hard to believe at first, but I am in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to see the tail end of the  Paris Pride Parade.  How weird is that?  George would have LOVED this coincidence

Pushing the bike along the parade on the side-walk soon becomes frustratingly close to impossible. Time for a detour.

But the parade seems to travel to the same Paris area that my hotel is in. I run into it again.

I make it to the hotel, finally convince the receptionist to reboot the router to re-instate Wifi, and head out again for a look-around

Best address in Paris: on a house boat

Just a bit noisy; this is where the party crowds wait for morning

I have surprisingly good food in an Asian Food Restaurant.  And after the little cup of fire water they serve with the bill I am happy that they don't have a doorstep ;-)

I ride around the neighbourhood. Place de la Bastille is not open to traffic again, I take the bicycle on a spin around the multi-laned round-about and have to brake hard because my path would have intersected with that of a motorcyclist.  First I think that I haven't quite figured out the intricate system of how to navigate the huge traffic circles, but at a light the motorcyclist stops next to me and after apologizing for almost cutting me off tells me in intricate detail why he didn't see me. All this with a huge smile.  Completely unimaginable in Vancouver is the first thought that enters my head.  Note to self: If Paris is populated by normal humans, what lives in Vancouver?

Cop cars still are ignored

I encounter the remnants of the Pride Parade not partying it up in a square in the Marais.

Alas, I realize that I'm dead tired, so after ogling the abundance of eye-candy (pervert me), I head to the hotel and crash.