It was astounding how many beasties could fit in this corner of Paris.
Just when I thought I saw everything, another building would appear and more rows upon rows of animals and food vendors would appear. How exhausting!
They need more cow bells.
My favorite kind of cow is this one: soulful kohl-lined eyes and big flirty lashes.
The Normandy cows with spectacles are the ones responsible for Camembert production, so they can be listed as a favorite as well. I actually found a vendor there who had my favorite super special Camembert from the farm we visited last June and I urgently bought the last wheel from her. It's fantastic stuff, and I feel sad for you if you can only get the rubbery processed stuff in the states.
May lactose intolerance never strike me.
While the facilities management here was on top of the manure situation and the odor management was pretty tolerable for an indoor location, I really could only drift into the cochon section very briefly. The pigs themselves are not malodorous, but anyone who has passed a pig farm on a hot day can attest to the fact they do leave a pretty strong present for their handlers to clean up.
There were also some gorgeous chickens and fouls and buns, but anything in a cage is pretty much unconvincing and pointless to try and photograph, so I just can't be bothered.
What was also kind of an interesting observation was the crowd. There was a lack of chic noire-wearing Parisian ladies and men in skinny suits flitting around, and a plethora of sturdy country folk who speak slow enough for me to actually understand what they are saying (it's not me, it's you, Paris...). Despite the crazy amounts of amazing food, it seems like most of the locals aren't around despite heavy advertising in the Metros.