Up till Strasbourg, I haven't seen any homeless or mentally ill people, but Strasbourg seems to be more of a regular city. The town square definitely had its drunks. It actually seemed kind of awesome, just being permanently drunk in some beautiful place. Why not?
On my second day there, I though I saw the grosses thing of the trip: a big, gross man, mocking his big, gross wife, in French. So gross. But I was wrong about it being the grossest.
Today, I had about an hour to kill before my train left for Irun, so I sat in the park in front of the station. There was a man there who I had been seeing over the last few days - totally gone, probably schizophrenic. He was way dirty, had a bunch of really intense tattoos, and was wearing a woman's tube top, with military pants torn into a dress of sorts. He was looking pretty rough, and seemed even more intense.
This particular morning he spent about forty five minutes standing in the middle of the park, doing an excellent imitation of one of Hitlers speeches. Literally, it was like he was possessed by the same devil. I, and many others, found this mildly entertaining. Until, that was, he took off all his clothes, and began washing himself with what looked like a bottle full of vomit. Literally, pouring it on his head, and then rubbing it all over his body. At that point, dear reader, I had had enough. Into the train station with me.
Although I did find it as funny as it was revolting, I felt really bad for him. He was once someone's son, someone's brother, and maybe someone's husband. Pretty gnarly.
PS - This seems to be a day of weirdness. On the train, seated next to me, I've been listening to a nine year old boy tell his mother how strong his sperm are. And his mother approving. Obviously, they've had this conversation before. Seriously, what the fuck?
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