Not to become an expatriate, as I've threatened I might, given my occasional disenchantment with the state of the union. But to freshen my perspective, to see what I might see. I admit that I tried not to look American as I strolled the streets of Paris. I even borrowed a friend's portable phone and pooch. One out of three Parisians owns a dog, which may help explain why one in four French is employed by the state.
Someone has to clean up after the pups.
Meanwhile, all Parisians own a portable phone. People don't talk to the person they're with, because they're busy talking to the next person they plan to be with. This phenomenon likely explains the pleasant temperament of French dogs, who get to scarf veal chops and creme brulee while their owners are otherwise distracted. Thus accessorized, I would summon my best French accent and ask for directions to, say, the Eiffel Tower, where no native would be caught dead or alive in June. I sincerely am.