Dog poo

So apparently the French people don't feel the need to pick up after their dogs. Imagine, if you will, walking down the street, eyes glued to all the interesting architecture, all the history, all the interesting people, and all of a sudden, stepping on a nice steaming pile of dog shit. Okay, let me back track, I haven't fell victim to this (yet), but I've seen evidence that many a folk have. How, you ask? Well, there are lots of smeared piles too! My new game to play is called "Guess that dog?". It provides quite a few minutes of entertainment as I'm walking around.

This whole blog is going to be dedicated to things that bother me. Love it. Live it.
(1) I hate walking up the hill to my hostel. I swear, its a 45 degree incline. Maybe worse. I love the fact that I now possess buns of steel, but at the same time, the walk is brutal, and all my shirts have permanent pit stains. The views of the Med. Sea are incredible, but again, the walk up can only be made by the fittest of the fit!
(2) I hate the construction in Nice. Why did they think it would be smart to build out the ENTIRE road at one time instead of doing it section by section. This is very ass backwards.
(3) Lunch. I love lunch. I hate that the French get two hours for lunch, everyday. It also makes doing anything between 12pm to 2pm impossible. God I'm jealous.
(4) Dinner. I love dinner. Why do people eat so late though? And why are portions so small. I had 3 servings of pasta tonight, followed by an entire other course of salad, mashed potatos, and schnitzel (no clue what it really is), AND I think I might be able to eat more. Maybe I'm not normal though...
(5) Laundry by hand. I bought a couple packets of Tide hand laundry detergent, and the instructions are very misleading. I had the great idea of trying to wash by hand today based on the easy instructions, only to realize they don't mention at all (not even a warning) about how it might take off 3 layers of skin on your hands trying to wring your clothes dry, or that it might take 3 days for them to dry afterwards, or that you need hangers to hang your clothes, or that it might be the single BEST concept on paper, and the WORST item of execution in all of mankind. I appreciate my washing machine very much now. I would marry my washing machine if I could.

On a more serious note though, I will be leaving Nice on Wednesday and moving onto Rome, Italy. I feel recharged, and ready to go!