Nice...

The sign says: "Memorial of the deportation". In the very heart of Paris. Yes, it's a port-o-potty.

Hungarian tourist in Paris

Paris via Velib is wunderbar. I managed to ride past Louis Kossuth square, and up through Ferenc Liszt square. In the process, I also saw yet another contender for the title of "The world's most posh McDonalds" and a bus full of a military brass band, getting off, one at a time (imagine a clown car), holding up traffic for a few kilometers.

Le Jet-lag reborn

So... plane food sucks, this is a well-known fact. But what about plane drink? I set out to find out. The brief summary:

1. Ow, my head hurts.
2. I can't remember much about what I drank.
3. I see my wallet is empty.
4. It doesn't help with jet-lag.
5. And yet I remember the cute steward serving the drinks.

So, in conclusion, alcohol on planes is like alcohol on not-so-dry land. Overpriced, of uncertain quality, but if it comes with a hot server who cares?

A little poetry

The Little Rock

One day there lay a little rock
Up high upon a hill,
So far it saw from its high nest,
It thought it was a bird at rest,
And every day it took to say
'One day I'll fly, I will!'

The days went by, the suns and moons,
And still the rock lay still,
Determined with a sure resolve
To one day soar uphill.
The rains came down, the thunder struck,
The rock it bore it all,
Until that is a boulder rolled,
It rolled downhill, and smashed, and smote,
And crushed it in its fall.

The rock then knew itself no more,
For dust it had become,
Yet blown aloft by winds galore,
It met the heaven's call.

In production...

A hit new musical show will begin production over the next months. The title of the new musical is still under wraps, but a call has been put out for some user content. Websurfers are invited to write their own lyrics for a song titled:

"If you were on facebook..."

Sign me up!
Or put lyrics in the comments!