obviousness obviated

A friend of mine who just got married is on an unintentionally prolonged honeymoon in Paris right now.  Last I heard he was still stranded by ash-related flight groundings, and he was emailing me to seek suggestions for, and I quote, "non-obvious" things to do in France. 

I sent a reply email full of increasingly useless suggestions that all involved taking a train out of Paris.  My suggestions are useless for two reasons: first, because I'm not a huge fan of Paris and haven't been there for nine years; and second, because trains on the Continent right now look like prop vehicles from a Bollywood film because everyone is trying to secure a seat, or at least standing room, or at least hanging room from the outside of the carriage.

More to the point, I'm not quite sure what to make of the request for a "non-obvious" tip.  At least for a tip from me.  To me, French things are often very obviously French.  I've noted before that whenever I see an image of uber-French-looking David Guetta deejaying I fully expect to glance down at his turntables and find that he is spinning a wheel of brie.

I'm guessing that he was hoping for suggestions of activities that wouldn't be written about in guidebooks or other materials made available to hordes of tourists.  For that, I am pretty useless.  For the past few years my travel has been completely impulsive and comparatively unresearched. 

Usually I can be found a few hours before a flight's scheduled departure scrambling to pick up a guide book or some themed historical fiction so that I cram some knowledge about a region and orient myself. 

I like to land feetfirst in a city and figure it out as I go.  I'm transfixed by drugstores and convenience stores, and like to wander through them in different countries and draw semi-specious conclusions about the local citizens's preferences for toothpastes, hair care products, simple groceries and sugar-free drinks.  I like being courted and wooed by local beer ads before eventually sampling them all.  I like strolling around and looking at clothing stores, at other people walking on the streets, and searching for vendors selling authentic jerseys of the local soccer team that I can admire or, alternatively, obvious counterfeits for actual purchase. 

I am grateful, therefore, when friends give me tips for their hometowns.  I was in Verona last summer for opera, and a pal sent me a great email that I received my first day there, high-lighting several things of  mixed-obviousness that I shouldn't miss.  Seven scoops of gelato per day?  Obvious.  Gelato cheaper than water?  Non-obvious.  Pasta?  Obvious.  Pasta with donkey and horse meat?  Non-obvious. 

So I liked Verona.  Unfortunately I've been bombarded recently by commercials for a new movie set there called Letters to Juliet, starring the terrifyingly bug-eyed albino-with-thyroid-condition Amanda Seyfried.  Ugh.  I'm guessing it's going to be pretty heavy on the obvious.