There are many certain things that the French just don’t do, and I seem to end up doing all of them in France. One of those things is eating while walking down the street. This is often necessary for me to do, however, since I often had days at school that began at 8 AM and ended at 9 PM without much in the way of breaks.
And now I’m at the laundromat, doing part-time work on my computer for my job back in New York. I definitely think I’ve gotten some weird looks, but I console myself by remembering that I’m making money while they’re looking at me like a two-headed alien.