I wasn’t going to let a sneezing fit spoil my stay in Paris. As a result, my DNA is now a part of the permanent collection at the Orsay. Sorry Vincent!

Sometimes I think some of the greatest painters had the maturity of Beavis & Butthead. “hehehe… That flower looks like a vagina… hehehe. I’m gonna paint it.”

Double stick tape evidently dates back to the dawn of creation. SOMETHING was holding those leaves on.

Sure, paint a bunch of schoolchildren playing in a park and you’re an impressionist genius, but snap a few photos and you wind up on some watch list.

I think this sign at the Louvre means “Don’t Walk on Water. That’s Jesus’s job.”

With the right positioning and a marketing campaign about it being an expression of woman’s struggle to take control of her sexuality, Two Girls One Cup would probably be right at home alongside some of the art at the Pompidou.

Restroom signs in the modern art gallery should be themed to the section they’re in. I’d love to watch people trying to figure out which is the Ladies Room in the Kandinsky section.

I like modern art and abstract art, but I have never understood the popularity of Picasso – it looks like the fingerpaintings of a 7 year old to me. Seriously, doesn’t this look like your nephew was trying to draw a muppet?

It sucks that many museums won’t let you take photos – not even of the sculpture. I would wager it’s more because they want to sell the prints in their gift shops than any fear of damage.

The Pompidou had a temporary exhibit of theme parks, world fairs and their impacts on architecture, city planning and art. I think it’s cool that Salvador Dali had a job kind of like mine once, creating a maze attraction. Of course, the attractions I’ve worked on didn’t have naked women in them. Unless you count the women flashing their breasts to the cameras on Jurassic Park.

This is part 2 of a four part series, in which I chastise myself for past experiences and give advice on fixing myself for future travels. Yes, I can give myself advice without being crazy. If you’d like to catch up, you can read Part 1: Eat Stuff.

Lesson #2 for cultural idiots: Don’t just take photos, take inspiration.

I’m setting up a contest on the site called “Identify This Photo.” Because I need serious help with about 7,000 photos that are a total mystery to me. Seriously, I don’t even think I took most of them. My working theory is that they just came with the camera like that generic family in a new picture frame. You may not know them, but damn, they sure look pretty.

Do you know where this is? Me neither.

The stories behind the sights are always fascinating when they’re narrated by Sam Brown or Rick Steves, but when I’m actually traveling I never stop to investigate what things are. When you’re new to travel, the singular focus is to “check off the box” rather than actually experiencing why you’re there.

But, here’s the thing. The world has more to offer than just a lot of pretty pictures. I can appreciate looking at Gaudi architecture, but it’s far more interesting to also know the history of what he designed and why. What were his inspirations and influences? Is it true that La Sagrada Familia isn’t going to be finished until 2026? Can’t they import cheap labor and shitty working conditions from all those out of work people in Dubai? But I digress.

Whether it’s a piece of art, a local square, a festival, a statue or just a scenic vista while riding through the countryside, I snapped off shots first and figured I’d ask questions later. Unfortunately, I never ended up asking questions more meaningful than “Can I get another beer?”

Some building in Barcelona

Five steps to take for future trips:

1. Keep notes! My ego is so gigantic, I believe I’ll remember everything at the end of a trip. The irony is that I always seem to forget that I never remember stuff. Whether it’s paper and pencil or geotagged photos, keep track of what you’re seeing so you can remember it and share it.
2. Do some research. I know, studying seems like the most boring thing possible when you’re on the road. You want excitement, not READING. But the strength of the memories afterward yield some serious payback. Read the historical notes on monuments, look places up online, read local newspapers to find out exactly what those French people were protesting (believe me, you’ll see people protesting something if you visit France).
3. Talk to the people, ask them about their town, about what they do, appeal to their sense of local and personal pride to strike up conversation. It may be tough to understand that Italian man’s tale of his glory days on the town’s middle school football team, but it beats watching a Michael Bay movie in your room.
4. Join organized tours – this doesn’t mean you have to pay to hop on a bus with a bunch of Midwesterners wearing black socks and sandals. One of the most interesting parts of my bike trip through the Pyrennees was joining a free tour of a family owned cheesery. (is cheesery a word?) I didn’t pay enough attention at the time, but it was one of the most unique opportunities to learn about the people and the culture of the region.
5. Slow down – instead of running from room to room to see 4,000 works of art in the Louvre, stop at 20 pieces you really like and then learn everything you can about them. Contrary to popular belief, there is no prize at the end of the Louvre scavenger hunt.

Travel is thrilling and exciting, but after it’s over it should still be inspirational and enlightening. Quiz your family on which they would rather see: 20 slides and the stories behind them (with a sample of a regional recipe) or 1000 photos you took from your seat on the tour bus. There’s a reason travel shows don’t just put up random pictures for 30 minutes.