You know, when you point Google Maps at where the gendarme put out his arm to hit me in the chest and stop me cold in my tracks while running on Tuesday, it looks pretty obvious that I should have known it was coming. But—in my defense—it didn’t look exactly like this a few days ago; I don’t remember any of those concrete barriers being there, and the fence was not across the sidewalk.
At any rate, there was no need for the officer to tutoyer me: “Où vas-tu?” I mean, asking me where I’m going like that is rather rude. We’re both adults here.
Crazy city running encounters with les flics notwithstanding, I had a great trip. Now I’m home and hoping to steer clear of the man. More photos and bons mots about the trip to follow this weekend.