Museums, the Seine, & Pea Soup

I think I figured out why the French like museums so much. At museums, the French can stare just as much as they want. On the Metro, in the street, anywhere else, staring is rude. But the paintings and sculptures can take it. They can take the thousands of undressing eyes staring at them from all angles, during all opening hours. And if they can't take it, they're put behind glass for protection, like a one-sided pair of sunglasses. So, the French go to museums. So they can calm their craving for a good stare.

If you ever get the chance to travel to Paris, take my advice, and after a day of doing the tourist thing, grab a bottle of red wine from the local Monoprix and a friend from a local hotel room where you're staying (whoever you brought with you) and head to cobblestones of the Seine. Sure, the Nile is cool and the Amazon is famously long, but the Seine has character. Looking at the wavy reflection of the city of lights in the oil-black water, you'll understand why the impressionists made Paris their headquarters. Just don't forget a package of St. Michel coconut crackers to cut that lingering hunger that persists throughout the night. And try to go for a cobblestone or cement block seat over a wet dock. Though swinging your legs over the edge is cool, it's not worth the bugbites you might find later.

If there's one thing I love about Paris (really), it's the diversity you can find among people here. I know, it's ironic coming from an American, but maybe I just notice it more because I'm one of the diverse crowd, here. The thing about Europe, there are so many countries so close together, that it's impossible not to encounter several of them in a big city like Paris. On any given night at a cafe or a bar (especially on student nights), you can meet Germans, Americans, Italians, even the occasional French person. And you learn something new every time you encounter one of them. Let me give you an example. By the end of Tuesday night, I had learned that Americans do tend to live up to their stigma of being louder than Europeans, Italians really do talk with their hands, and Swedes eat pancakes for dinner on Thursdays (after an appetizer of pea soup and mustard). How cool is that?