We have yet to see a single obese French person in Paris. Even the roundest, jolliest French-speakers we’ve seen look healthy.
We still have yet to be served anything with ice. Elise cannot figure out what lattes are called here. My club sandwich at Louvre was not club in the American sense, and came on the whitest white bread ever.
There is a distinct lack of disposable stuff, in general. Paper towels are petite compared to their American compatriots – like a single liter of soda next to a 2-liter. The toilet paper is thin and perfunctory.
Our flat has no apparent heat; it’s warmed by a radiator and an installed wall plate at either side of its length. Is this typical of French buildings?
Every single restaurant/bar has the same facade, no matter what they serve.
French cable has a channel for every possible iteration of nationality. We watched Romanian and Armenian television earlier. Does US digital cable get a lot of Romanian channels?
I always thought it was amusing that different languages have different words for the noises animals make, because animals don’t obey language. Children, though, that’s interesting. All of their little wheezes and whoas are completely different. And, I have yet to see an awful mess of a child, the sort you constantly find yourself sitting next to on SEPTA.
We haven’t yet had an opportunity to order escargot. At the Franprix they have a frozen dinner of them, but that’s not how I imagined my introduction to them.