Parts 6 & 7 were uhhhhh….yeah…

Hello one and all; this is week 8 of the Euro Report.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve written anything new, but it’s been a relatively calm couple of weeks. 

For what would have been week 7, we skated what might be the best spot in the Florence area, which is somewhere around that skatepark with that contest (see week 5) with these…

and this fella.  But it’s still an hour outside of Florence.

Other than that, not much to tell.

Last weekend, I made it to the real home of baguettes and bald headed lesbians:

Bonjour dans Paris, niggas.

Paris might be my favorite city in the world, short of New York.  There’s tons of really cool old shit, lots of cool modern shit, and a good portion of shit to skate. 

Two homies were nice enough to show me around.

Armel.  Aurel didn’t skate today.

I skated all the shit you’ve seen in every video…

Le Dome, c’est grande.  Look at my face.  That’s how gnarly it is.  The double set is no joke either.

Bercy est qualite’.

and La Defense has shit like this:

There was a bunch of other shit I skated or saw, but since you’ve seen all that in various other publications, I figure I should write about other, more interesting stuff.

Kosta does not lie.  Baguettes are everywhere in Paris.  I even saw this old lady riding her bike down the Seine (the river) while chomping down on a baguette and smoking a cigarette.  Just picture it.  How euro is that?

Also, let me mention that Paris has one of the best and most entertaining subway systems around, with its only drawback being that it stops running around 1AM.  On this train was where I saw my first of many bald headed lesbians.  I was pretty sure it was a Doc-Martin wearing dude from behind until she turned around and I saw what may or may not have been titties.  She did have a nicely shaped head though.

On another metro ride, a teenage boy got on with a boombox and started freestyling over a beat in French.  It was pretty sick until I realized that there was a good chance that this kid was actually retarded.  I mean really; he had those eyes that were too close together and everything.  And after he finished freestyling, some random techno beat came on and he started singing that Romanian song (you know that techno song that was really big because that fat dude was all over the internet singing it? It was that one.), but the best part was that the techno beat was not the beat of the original song.  And better yet, I don’t even think he knew the words (not that I know them) because he kept humming, “ba ba ba ba boo boo” every so often, and then he would go back to singing the regular words. 

Skating flat and a four stair by Place du Bastille, I saw what might have been the best thing ever: rollerblading lessons.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the orange makes you even gayer than that bald-headed, baguette eating, chain smoking lesbian over there.”

“Really?  Do you think my knee pads and wedgie help at all?”

I was laughing so hard because that dude was having a really hard time on his skates, but it was impossible to not laugh because he looked like a member of The Village People in a roller derby.  It was awesome. 

I don’t know if Paris has a large gay population, aside from the safety conscious rollerbladers and the lesbians, but skating at Bercy I saw this movie poster:

Anyway, why does France have a movie about gay ghosts coming out?  No pun intended.

Leaving Paris sucked for 2 reasons: 1. I had to return to shitty ass Florence. 2. Not only did I have to return, but I had to take a 12 hour train ride.

The train ride…Alright, let me lay this out for you.  You get put in these cabins with 5 other people.  The seats turn into bunk beds like this:

That’s the middle, there’s one above me and one below me.

The thing that really sucks is that those rides are super sketchy and you have to be totally aware of people jacking your shit.  The other thing that sucks is that you’re in a train with 5 Europeans (usually) and the whole place smells like a locker room/sex room in a rollerblading training facility.  The worst actually was this Chinese woman below me who slept facing the other way (her feet under my head) and before she put her blanket on, all I could smell were rice paddied feet.  It made my life hurt and my nose hairs burn. 

That’s it for now, on Monday I’m going to Barcelona for 5 days, so I guess I should probably write about that when I get back.  Oh yeah, and while it’s 45 degrees in New York right now, I’m skating in a T-shirt.  Ah, but I forgot, Florence sucks huge hippo cock, so it evens out.

Shout-outs: Quartersnacks fam, Supreme family, my very own family, Mura and the Firenze crew, Armel and Aurel for skating with me in Paris, Pat for hooking that up, Danny Weiss because I feel like he needs some love, Big L r.i.p., the city of Florence for teaching me to appreciate everywhere else because you suck terribly, and Caroline, as always.

Ciao, you huge bunch of douchebags,
Isak Buan

Oh yeah:

We just turned her around and started taking pictures.  Then she walked away.  Club life.