185. Italy vs. France

I am just back from a week in Paris and Belgium, and while I feel that any trip across the Atlantic that doesn’t end up in Italy is a waste of my time, I’ve put that aside and I’ve done an objective (?) comparison.

To be frank, I found Belgium to be drab and dull, with its high points being its waffles and French fries, so let’s just take them off the table right now. Paris, however, was wonderful, so let’s begin:

Food: Italy 3, France 2 I know that French food is a thing, and it is arguably the best in the world, but I prefer Italian, hands down.

The French food, while fun to try, was too buttery and rich for my taste, while Italian food epitomizes the “Mediterranean diet” emphasis on vegetables, fruit, fish and olive oil that we are all supposed to be aiming for and that I prefer. And not to generalize from too small a sample size, but I have never had a bad meal in Italy over many months being there in total, while I had one in Paris in a week. All that said, there is nothing in the world like a French breakfast of baguette, croissant, fresh squeezed orange juice, and strong coffee.

And their namesake fries aren’t shabby either, which boosts their overall score.

Chocolate: France 2, Italy 1 Just a few months ago, I was in Torino, the birthplace of Nutella, a city that prides itself on chocolate in many forms. But they are pikers in Torino compared to Paris, where just casually walking around, one passes literally hundreds of high-end chocolate shops, sometimes two or three on the same block.

Bonus: they happily give out samples.

Churches: Italy 3, France 1 Nearly any church you duck into in Italy, from the Vatican to a little neighborhood parish, is beautiful, with every available surface covered with color, carving, mosaics and bling.

Paris churches were lovely, but far more subdued. Personally, I think God might enjoy a little extra sparkle.

Art: Italy 3, France 2 Yes, I know that France has all those wonderful Impressionists, but judging by the crowds, the top attraction in the Louvre, their main national museum of art, is by an Italian, Leonardo da Vinci. ‘Nuff said.

Graffiti: France 3, Italy 0 In Italy, virtually every square inch of outdoor wall space, including in its most precious, historic precincts, is covered with graffiti.

In Paris, there was virtually none. I don’t know how they discourage it, but good on them.

Markets: Italy 3, France 2 I love Italian market day, that weekly event in nearly every city and town when the square is filled with vendors selling fruits, vegetables, bread and cheeses as might be expected, but also shoes, pots and pans, purses, linens and underwear.

A highlight is always the truck with the roasting pig on a spit, to buy hot porchetta sandwiches to be consumed on the spot.

I went to several street markets in Paris, all of which had lovely displays of food and flowers.

But there was none of that vibrancy of the Italian markets, where people come in a weekly ritual of meeting their needs for both goods and community.

The people: France 3, Italy 3 People love to travel to Italy in part because they find the people to be warm, welcoming and hospitable. As an added bonus, they are great to look at, eschewing the schlumpy American value of comfort above all else. The French, on the other hand, have a reputation for cold, critical reserve and distain for outsiders. I found that not to be even a little bit true. The French people I ran into were smiling, helpful and friendly. They were patient when I hauled out my 11th-grade French, and nearly tackled me in their eagerness to offer me their seats on the Metro, which I tried hard not to be insulted by. Plus, they were fabulous-looking, too.

TOTAL: Italy 16, France 15 Surprise! It looks like Italy wins again, in a squeaker. But don’t worry, France. If you just add a roasting pig on a spit and an underpants vendor to your street market, you might just pull ahead next time.