A cold, rainy day in Paris; this morning Amanda cocked one eye at the window and declined to arise for our Segway trip to the Eiffel Tower. She had, in any case, to exchange a pair of black sandals on rue Mouffetard; both shoes had proved to be for her right foot. When she phoned the store, the salesman denied the mistake and then refused to countenance her suggestions for how they could fix the problem without making her bring the shoes all the way back. "Je suis desolé," he said, and hung up. You hear that a lot here: No, there is no iron in the hotel that works; no, the hotel staff does not know of a manicurist in Paris; yes, we told your caller from the United States that you were not staying at the hotel: Je suis desolé. In theory it means, "I'm sorry," but it is invariably said with a curt shrug that translates as, "I'm sorry that I have allowed you to intrude upon my consciousness for one instant with your ridiculous needs."
