Don't get me wrong: I love France, and the French as well (well, maybe excluding Parisiens). But of all the vermin I've seen crawl from under an assortment of real and figurative rocks in my life, the French hippies I occasionally encountered in Togo were among the lowest. Filthy, impolite, prone to theft, and always with a Gauloise between their lips (which I always suspected were made with camel dung instead of tobacco) they were enough to make you want to get a haircut and join the Marines.
Perhaps the only thing good about the French hippies is how good they made us Peace Corps volunteers (by all other standards a generally bedraggled lot) look! Next to them, we were visions of Donnie and Marie Osmond!
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