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Paris, France: Shit happens… in Pere Lachaise cemetery

And all this time I thought the expression was “I spit on your grave”…

Now seems like an appropriate time to tell my embarassing story.
Ok, so I was in Paris with my father and bro, visiting my sister. They were definately not interested in coming to the Pere LaChaise graveyard (why, I don’t know) so I went alone, also happy to be alone for the first time in a week.
It had rained earlier in the morning and I wasn’t feeling the greatest from the night before. So, I went in to Pere Lachaise, which is immense and so easy to get lost in. me. So I’m off photographing and wandering, looking for the muse of early photographers, the french actress Sarah Bernhardt and the composer Chopin. I found Chopin, but then I started not feeling so hot again. My stomach was nearly ready to burst from pain, and my bum, well you can only imagine.
So I keep walking and then all of a sudden I was like OH SHIT, this is not good.
Luckily it was early in the morning on a Saturday in Nov. and it had just stopped raining, so I was pretty much alone. Now, Pere Lachaise is a mad version of the Necropolis in Glasgow, much more crowded, and much more urban, almost, if graveyard can be such a thing. So here I am, about to shit myself, and I’m in a Parisian graveyard.
So, I snuck between two mausoleums and just went to town. I must have been there for like 5-10 minutes doing my thing. Here I thought I had found a nice flat area of leaves and when I went to go cover up the evidence, I realized there was a grave underneath!!! So, I took a massive shit on some random person’s grave!!!
How mortifying.
So then I run off and try to act all nonchalant, and no one caught me. I went about my business of photographing and finally was ready to leave. So I had a cafe at the Morrison Cafe (right next to the entrance to be exact) and ran to the washroom to make sure all was cool. Thank GOD I did that because apparently I had stepped in a tiny bit of my evidence!!! Now, I know the french smell bad (they really really do), but I can only imagine being stuck in the stuffy Metro with that on my shoe!
I prompty got back to the hotel and could barely keep a straight face when talking to my bro. He got very angry when I delayed him in viewing the Nan Goldin photo exhibit at the Pompidou Center because I wanted to rinse off briefly. Once we were alone though I told him what had transpired. The whole day he was laughing, which was even funnier bc the Nan Goldin show is very explicit, with lots of straight sex, gay sex, cock and ball type photos. So he looks at me, giggles and then laughs and then looks at my dad reacting to a photo of one guy jerking another guy off. It was priceless.
Shit like this happens to me on nearly every trip I go on. 😉
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