After so many busy museums and galleries, we spent Tuesday with an American guide who showed us some of his favorite neighborhoods. We probably walked more today than any other day, but it was noticeably more mellow without the stress of navigating the touristy attractions.

After learning some Parisian history, we had falafel sandwiches — the guide kept bragging that Lenny Kravitz ate there… you know, in case you wanted to know where Lenny Kravitz got his falafel. It was delicious, but it made my sweet tooth ache, so we stopped off for some hot chocolate for dessert. This was the most unusual and most amazing hot chocolate I’ve ever had. It was pretty thick while still being drinkable, unlike the drinking chocolate I’ve had, which had more of a pudding consistency. And it wasn’t sweet. Just great chocolate flavor. It was pretty perfect, so the only bad thing I can say about it was that the weather was a little warm for hot chocolate.

I will try to be brief about the Louvre. It’s just… big. Too much to see, too many people. The first few minutes are exciting because it’s such a spectacle, but once I actually tried to enjoy the contents of the museum, I blew my fuse pretty fast. The only way to stay sane in such a huge building is to pick one hall of one wing of one section to specialize in. We briefly glanced at some of the big names (Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, etc) then proceeded to an area of French paintings that was more secluded upstairs in the museum.

I have a question. Did French woman not wear clothes in real life, or are they just painted that way? Seriously, 90% of the paintings in the French rooms are naked women. I’m not complaining, I just need help distinguishing between art and history. Were the paintings intended to be sexual, or did the subject normally wear lingerie?

After seeing so much old art, I have begun debating what type of art to commission for myself. Would I look better as a marble bust, or as a giant oil painting? If I went with a bust, I think I should wait until I have better defined facial features and longer hair. If I choose a painting I would need to further decide whether my wife would join me (and if she would be wearing any clothes, for the sake of authenticity) or whether it would be a solo portrait.

To conclude our week in Paris, we took a cooking class. While we shopped for ingredients at the local market, I learned everything I know about cheese. We also enjoyed free samples, which has a different meaning in France than America. We think of a free sample as something that a geriatric microwaves and serves in a paper cup at Costco. In France, they served the most delicious gourmet fresh food as we passed the stalls.

As part of the introduction to the recipe, our instructor explained that this meal would be a good thing to cook at the end of a long say if you just want something simple. After all, people who work don’t always have time to prepare extravagant French cuisine on a daily basis. We split into four pairs to cook the same dish, eager to learn a French recipe that we could use to impress our friends.

Don’t get your hopes up, friends. After five hours of complete confusion, the four groups had quite different variations of the identical recipe. Nobody knew which was correct, so we threw them all together and called it a day. The asparagus with cheese sauce in puff pastry was tasty. The chicken in cream sauce was less tasty, but I’m not much a fan of drenching my meat in cream sauce. Neither was worth the five hour process, that’s for sure.

Not sure how to sum up the week in Paris. People warned me that French people aren’t very friendly, and I would say that was confirmed for the most part. The landmarks and history in the city are remarkable. The food didn’t meet my high expectations. I’m very happy that I experienced Paris in my lifetime, but I’m not in a hurry to return. I have my trademark Eiffel Tower photos, now all I need is to figure out a way to get more cheese, baguettes, and pastries in my life.

I love cities that are easy to get around. We’ve figured out how to use the metro and the city has nice big sidewalks, so we are covering lots of ground.

I can’t say I learned anything new at the military museum, but I really enjoyed hearing the World War II story from a French perspective. I wasn’t surprised that the role of France in the war was emphasized (and maybe a little bit glorified), but the historians of an occupied city certainly give attention to different details than American textbooks. It was also fun to explore the halls of armor and weapons from different centuries and continents.

Napoleon’s tomb is pretty amazing. I still don’t know anything about it besides what it looks like. Maybe it’s part of the military museum? Maybe it’s in a cathedral? All I can say is this: if there were a real-life global treasure hunt in the style of National Treasure or The Da Vinci Code, this is probably one of the stops on the journey. If you are Indiana Jones, save yourself the trouble of hunting clues and just start here.

Next up is Palais Garnier — the Paris opera house, setting of The Phantom of the Opera. As fans of the musical, we were excited to see the chandelier and box five. But that excitement was completely overshadowed by the awe of walking up the grand staircase and into the grand foyer. The attention to detail is unbelievable; even the most hidden corners were accented with gold or carved marble. The ceilings are covered in beautiful paintings. The luxury is in excess to the point of being absurd.

We watched a chamber music concert in the opera house while we were there. It was nice to see the auditorium and the Chagall ceiling, but really most of our time was spent adjusting in our tiny seats, looking for an exit, and listening to the hostess explain something at great length in French. No breaks, no way to escape. I amused myself by giving the page turner (there was a girl sitting beside the pianist to turn the pages of the music) an imaginary back story and personality. Sweet girl.

I once had a brief layover in Paris that allowed me to see Notre Dame from a distance, so this longer trip allowed me to see the inside. Being completely packed with tourists took away a little bit from the experience, but it helped that they were playing some ambient chants to set the mood. My family is not very patient, so the presence of a line to get into any attraction is usually enough to convince us to change our plans. Ascending the towers of Notre Dame did not make the cut, much to nobody’s dismay.

Time to bandage up my blisters. Lots of distance yet to cover.

After a “weather delay” in Chicago and a redirection through London (home of my future wife) I finally met my family in Paris on a beautiful Friday afternoon. They were eager to wine and dine me the moment I arrived.

That night I had the best meal of the week: cheese, baguette, and pastries. I thought I knew a little bit about cheese, baguette, and pastries before coming to France. This meal turned that all upside-down. It was a glorious experience, and my only complaint is that it will be impossible to recreate once I leave.

It’s apparent that the French have a tremendous appreciation for fresh food. Rather than picking up highly preserved groceries from the supermarket every week or two, shoppers pick up fresh groceries daily from shops scattered throughout each neighborhood. Any storefront could be on the cover of a gourmet food magazine. As a bonus, some fruit shops carry the tropical fruits I enjoyed in the Caribbean that are too obscure to find in American grocery stores.

My least favorite aspect of Paris is that everything is so small. I feel like Gulliver here — the cups are no bigger than shot glasses. I will say that I appreciate laughing at all the little scooters buzzing around the streets, though. Even a leather jacket can’t make a scooter driver look cool.

Time to start chipping away at the jet lag. We can see the top of the Eiffel Tower from our apartment, so I’m sure the hourly strobe lights will help me sleep. The museum marathon begins tomorrow…