Well IÕve found a place to hang my spurs, on the right bank of the beautiful and polluted Seine. The details of how I came to be here are less than thrilling,...an address given to me when I was in New York - a telephone call once I got to Paris.... And what I will do in the future, after the rightful owner of this place returns, is (as always) uncertain. For now iÕm just sitting back, feeding the ducks and watching the boats float by. The launch window is wide open, at least until the middle of september.

My new, however temporary, home is a pre-war pˇniche, a dutch barge, dubbed, the Jose-Marie. It is moored in Neuilly sur Seine, an extremely affluent neighborhood just between Paris and its business-district appendage known as La Dˇfense. But before you get the wrong idea, let me assure you, this boat is as out of place here as I am. All up and down the river people live on floating apartments which were constructed in some factory and towed to their present location. To call them ŌboatsÕ is relying too much on a technicality. Most of them were named only as an after-thought, something to write on the little green gates at the top of the bank which open onto the Boulevard du General Koenig. The Jose-Marie on the other hand, has a history, a mast, portholes and some peculiarities which periodically present themselves.

I am not alone here. The boat is also inhabited by some remarkable creatures, besides Sophie (although she is also remarkable, which remarks, I wonÕt say) In particular i refer to the spiders, who are apparently intent on turning this boat into a giant cocoon. I canÕt complain about the millions of miles of sticky thin strands which run throughout the boat, although sophie often does, because, as I keep telling her, and myself, spiders eat mosquitoes. You see, there are no screens on any of the windows, so the spider webs are actually a blessing. As long as the spiders donÕt get too hungry...

Another thing this boat has that none of its neighbors does is a floating garden - our back yard on the Seine. I helped Captain Bob put it together, but he gets full credit/ responsibility for this very strange idea. A variety of water loving plants, (papyrus, cat tails, water irus) potted in wheels taken from (presumedly) junked cars. The inflated tires keep the wheel, and its load, afloat. A hundred meters of rope and an old manhole cover (the anchor) keep the whole thing in place. La piece de resistance of this hydroponic wonder is a ten foot tall weeping willow which sits contentedly inside a wheel taken from some old tractor. It is strange enough to look out the window and see water almost up to the sill, but the willow tree hula dancing around out there defies the imagination.
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Since we are down river from Paris there is the occasional flotilla of debris which passes by during the course of the day. Bob has taken advantage of this continual supply of bottles and cans to sharpen his skills with a sling shot. In his absence I carry on the tradition, armed with a crate of marbles (he buys them 10,000 at a time) I keep watch from the wheelhouse for attractive targets: empty glass bottles and cans. I guess the point, in addition to keeping the neighbors on their toes, is to sink a much of the debris as possible, doing our part to keep the river clean. I personally have yet to hit anything, although all the marbles iÕve launched off this boat have probably raised the level of the river a couple of inches.

I mentioned before that there are ducks that inhabit these waters. At first I felt sorry for them, living in such a polluted environment, until I realized that they have wings and are free to go any where they want (at least within the EEC). I thought about this for a little while, when it struck me - they probably stay here because they are well fed. Alas, those canards, not much smarter than us humans. The fish, on the other hand, have much less choice in the matter, and they have my sympathy, everytime I flush the toilet. But I havnÕt seen any dead fish floating by, in fact, the fish around here are quite lively, continually rising, (smutting) breaking the surface, and raising a general racket. Bob says they are coming up for air. I like to think that they just want to catch a glimpse of Paradise.