It has rained every day.

Day 12

Paris truly is a meeting place of cultures: Men from all over the world have followed me around the city. Today the Trib sends me to the suburb of Nanterre, not to cover a story, but to get a French social security number so that I can be paid. I have the equivalent of $10 left to my name. On the way back, a man from Zambia asks me if he can speak English with me. I cannot very well say no because he has followed me from the social security office to the metro and has inadvertently paid for my train ticket.

"Where in America from you?" he asks.

"Near New York."

"New York? From?"

"Well. actually. I'm from New Jersey."

"OHHHHHH! New Jersey! You be knowing Hoboken?!"

I take this as a bad sign and tell the man how happy I am to be living in Paris with my new husband. Richard. and his family. My story is claborate: Richard's father works for IBM and has recently transferred to Paris from Buenos Aires. Richard is a student at Cite Universitaire. Richard and I are totally in love. despite the season.

"When can you meet me?" he asks.

I tell him that I am a journalist at The International Herald Tribune and. obviously. work seven days a week. He is very impressed.

The he looks at my left hand. "Why no ring?" He is glaring. We are at my metro stop: I run quickly. People at the Trib tell me I should have immediately yelled at the strange man. "Vas te faire foutre!" This apparently means "Go fuck yourself."

Day 13

I bring my umbrella to Notre Dame for two reasons: it may rain, and I need a good weapon. An Arab man approaches me and asks to share my umbrella. "Vas te faire foutre!" I yell.

He laughs hysterically and walks away. It works.