Paris is in a bad mood.
The sullen, steel-grey sky seems to be permanently snivelling sleet.
The Seine, swollen against its banks, pushes and squeezes its way through the city like an irascible woman in too-tight shoes.
And the January depression has even sucked some of the glitzy dazzle out of the Eiffel Tower, leaving it looking - at least from a distance - like a rather cheap, left-over Christmas decoration.
It may be the city of romance and a Mecca for tourists, but right now Paris feels and looks like it just cannot be bothered any more to turn on the charm.
Not that this city is exactly known for its sense of service.
( The customer is allegedly always right in London but, in Paris, he or she is little more than an irritant.Collapse )
It's a slow day and I actually found this article a bit enlightening re: all the horror stories I've heard about Paris.
And as much as I hate to admit it, they kind of make a point about American waiters. If you belong to a group that waiters generally consider bad tippers, your service is more likely to suck. I'm a woman who often dines alone, and the difference in service is amazing. Twice I've had an owner act so nasty that I left before ordering.