My trip to PSG vs Nice and the new King of Paris
By Ryan Child
I left the whisky on the plane, so the first place we went in Bastille was a local shop to buy vodka, bread and garlic cheese. The streets in this part of Paris shone up into the night, arcades and carnivals, full of young men and skinny girls.
“Welcome my friends,” the Hotel Royale Bastille receptionist said, a man in his late 20s. “You can also get a breakfast here but it is 12 Euros and you can get the same for half the price down the street. You know this but…” he shrugged. “It is your decision. I am just honest,” he said lethargically, his mind clearly occupied with whatever his art was.
And it was beautiful art we were here to see.
After an hour on that Sunday, though, it was clear that Paris Saint Germain were a non-symmetrical, abstract football team. Beautiful in parts…
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