When I first arrived in Paris, I couldn’t get over the lack of conveniences I had grown accustomed to in New York. The bodegas – or, as they aptly (if inappropriately) call them here, les arabes du coin – were not half as abundant, nor did they stay open all night as is customary in the city that never sleeps. What’s more, these alimentations generale charged exorbitant markups compared to their stateside counterparts, and to the typical French grocery. Buck-twenny-five Coors tallboys? Hardly. Try 2 euro (or $2.60) pint cans of Kro. The situation was even more dire for late-night, post-bar bites. Sure, you could grab a vile panini or a soggy crepe around Pigalle or les Grands Boulevards at 2am, but you could hardly get a made-to-order grilled sandwich at the corner store at 3am, or mozz sticks and jalapeno poppers delivered at 4.

Having just returned from NYC after a month of unrelenting “catching up” (read: socially-sanctioned dissipation) with my friends there, I have a renewed love for Big Apple delis, but have achieved an inner emotional detente over the relative conveniences offered by different cultures and different cities. Obvious though it may seem, there are distinct species of instant gratification native to every Western society, despite the march of globalization and the leveling of expectation. A textbook case would have to be the Netherlands, where you can of course pickup tree to your hearts content…but which, if you are a good and circumspect tourist, you will not smoke curbside in front of God and toe-headed Dutch children.

As is often the case, the stark contrast between what you can and can’t do, or have, and where, orbits around vice, and came into greatest relief when I first arrived back in NY with the lifestyle expectations I had grown accustomed to after half a year in Paris. Suddenly, I couldn’t drink in the street, buy booze beyond beer in corner stores, or smoke, well, inside. I suppose it is not so much a question of whether I would trade those doites for all-night grills and fryers – I’d take them all, natch – but rather a very telling expression of culture.

In spite of all civics class propaganda, it is apparent that the French approach daily life with a deeper sense of la liberté than we Yanks do. Sure, Californians can buy a fifth of rotgut at Safeway, but woe betide you light a fag within the state’s borders. And forget about New England buckle-shoed blue laws. We may have different tolerances to vice from state to state, but – with the exception of Louisiana, I’m guessing (parce que c’est Nouveau France, peut etre?) – even states that have cause célèbre liberal laws will also have some hypocritical, draconian policies to even the keel (I’m talking to you, Nevada).

But who knows? Social liberalism is a double edged sword, cutting individual freedoms as soon as as the political climate surrounding an issue shifts to privilege, or ostensibly “protect”, society. Sartre said, “Hell is other people”, which I think goes a long way to explain how the French covet their, let’s not say individual, but personal rights to pleasure. A ban on smoking in indoor public spaces is coming down the pipe, however, and it will be interesting to see how much it is flaunted or enforced here. Liberté or fraternité - which will prevail?