Visited the local hair salon, with a wonderful sense of anticipation, underscored by intense nervousness. French lessons have not reached the "Visit to the Hair Salon " chapter. Where are their prorities? Would waving my hands- a new habit which seems to be a substitute for speech since arriving in Paris- result in a drastic bob?

How foolish of me. The French are too stylish to allow some foreigner to sob hysterically over their mirrors. Actually its heartening to know some things in life are universal: the basin with warm water sloshing into your ears, the 3 week old Hello/Grazie magazine full of celebrities in compromising photos, the sight of your head, completely trussed up in foil and clingwrap, ready to bake. Gossip I sadly couldn't understand. Then along came a stylist with English, who could appreciate my poor efforts in French, we got along famously, and despite the rain I could swing my shampooed and brushed hair with pride.

Such are the achievements of the expat.