Taste What You See

When moving to a new place the goal tends to be to find that small café where the barista will always smile and know your order each morning before you have the chance to say hello. In Paris, there are many cafes to choose from, but I, along with some friends, have been lucky enough to find the "one" where we not only get a smile each day, but love, affection, and the occasional free crepe. And this isn't your typical French café, rather a "café deli" fully equipped with a creepy French man who refers to himself as "French lover man," a young and beautiful crepe-making model, and of course endless amounts of nutella. What else could I possibly ask for, aside from the

While on the topic of food (inevitable to speak of), the French are genius in their ability to create and eat endless amounts of bread and pastries, and I have nothing but good things to say about the delicious food, but there comes a point when classy cuisine just doesn't do the job. The solution? Finding some hearty American food at a wonderful place called Breakfast in America: Diner! This is no joke, and whatever animosity the French may have towards Americans is clearly thrown out the window when it comes to food because this hot spot is constantly overflowing with Parisians craving a good ol' burger and a three course brunch, which includes an omelet, pancakes, bottomless cup o' joe and a poster of Friends on the wall. There is some assimilation to French gastronomy with the addition of wine on the menu and people eating burgers with forks and knives, but it remains an American gold mine. The perfect treat to ease homesickness.

To continue with this fixation on food, cultural diversity has added its touch to French dining with the wonderful middle eastern specialty of falafel. Le Marais, the very lively and hip quarter also known as the Jewish quarter houses the small yet memorable falafel bistro-King Falafel. Everything from the size and the taste to the fact that it's Lenny Kravitz's favorite falafel place in Paris-so we're told-completes the awesomeness of this simple food. It warms my Jewish heart to be able to eat such delicacy here. Of course it was just as satisfying to sit in a café on Montmartre and have the most amazing crème brulee, while making a French couple next to us quite uncomfortable with our American demeanor of taking loads of pictures. Then there were also the delicious beignets (larger and squarer versions of donuts), partly delicious because of the taste and partly delicious because they only cost 1 euro! (for a student, that is pure treasure)

Indulging in food is unquestionably crucial to immersing in the French lifestyle, but I have not caught onto the culture of MINI. Explanation: everything here is presented in mini sizes. Staples are half the size of normal ones (they may be made of steel to actually hold a few papers together), tissue packs come in miniature sizes, and most commonly, at restaurants, cups for water are the size of shot glasses (except for those at Breakfast in America, a place which understands our needs). My question is: with mini items we just end up using double the original quantity to get a satisfying amount, so how does that help the conservation of anything?

Thought-provoking moments such as that happen very often here…like when you see an elderly man clad in a jogging suit with headphones in his ears moon walking and dancing on the Champs Elysees in the evening. Or when there's just one grandma sitting at a bar surrounded by about six young men and the rest of the bar is empty. Or when middle-aged women wear tight sequin skirts, school-girl skirts, or sky-high heels with more confidence than a 20-year-old. At first glance this all deserves a raised eyebrow, but then I think back to the characters you see on the streets of New York and everything seems normal again.