Pictures and a hint of rebellion

There are always things that can’t be captured by pictures. Taste, for example, is a strangely dependent sense that relies upon smell. Since the latter and therefore the former cannot be held by images, I’ll do my best below to relay the information.

Dear people back home, feel absolutely no desire to smell the Parisian metro. It has its charms, but neither smell nor taste (?) can be counted among them. Versailles, on the other hand, smells exactly like it looks like it should. Monet’s garden smells like chickens. Normandy is mixed with salt from the sea and gelato.

One thing they don’t talk about in the guidebooks is how Americanized Paris is. True, I’m basically doing my project about this, so I’m biased, but not only are there Starbucks shops and McDonalds everywhere, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a street where either no one spoke English or where a “I heart NY” souvenir was being sold. This is helpful in some ways, but when we were outside Versailles getting lunch, everyone in the shop was American and the woman working there was only taking orders in English. I must say, it seems like cheating to leave a country only to enter a one that has adopted parts of your own.

Outside Paris and Normandy, however, practically no one knows anything more than survival skills in English, which was refreshing and occasionally humorous (waiters seem to always mishear Dr. Blunt saying “poire” or “poivre”).

Anyway, while the theme of this post is supposed to be how different France is in real life than in pictures, I’m feeling rebellious so I’ve attached a picture below.



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