The Last Straw: These are tough times for tourism in Europe, but I didn't realise just how tough until I read in the Observer recently that Paris has mounted a campaign "to be nice to foreigners".
With US visitors staying away, Parisians are desperate enough to try anything, even smiling. The result is a campaign slogan: "Our smiles come from the heart." And to enforce the message, tourists are encouraged to complete scorecards with "smile-intensity ratings" for the places they visit.
The news will chill the spine of Tourism Ireland. Sure, it'll take the French a while to get the hang of the whole smiling thing. As a Paris shop assistant asked the Observer: "Why should Parisians be nice to foreigners when they're not even nice to each other?" But with Irish tourism already under fire on other fronts, it's worrying that the French are muscling in on our main product - the welcome.
I'm proud to say that my family and I are doing our bit for Ireland. When friends from Seattle came to stay last weekend, we put on a special effort, conscious of the responsibility of looking after the only American tourists in Europe. And I'm happy to report that even outside our house, there was plenty of evidence that the unique Irish welcome is still intact.
It was there at the arrivals gate of Dublin airport, which now has a desk offering special reception facilities (albeit only for visitors from SARS-infected regions). And at the nearby M50 roundabout where, as I changed lanes while simultaneously giving tourist commentary, a complete stranger sounded his horn and made a traditional Irish hand gesture. Everywhere we went, in fact, there was a warm reception.
On the down side, it rained all the time, which is a problem that - if Tourism Ireland is really serious - needs to be addressed. This, combined with logistical difficulties in the transport sector, meant our visitors were restricted to indoor attractions within easy reach of Dublin. So the first stop on our itinerary was Newgrange.
The very age of this monolithic burial chamber, with its almost perfectly preserved interior, never fails to impress. Built in 3,200 BC, it predates even the pyramids at Giza. Which means that, as our tour guide summarised, in a perfectly preserved Drogheda accent: "She's fairly old!" The hieroglyphics on the great entrance stone are a mystery, the meaning of which can only be guessed at; and in this respect, Newgrange serves as a useful introduction to Irish road signs. But the climax for tourists is the part where the main lights inside the chamber are switched off. Then, other lights recreate the effect of the Winter Solstice when - thanks to the meticulous planning of the neolithic builders - dawn rays from the sun god creep up the narrow passageway and "visit" the spirits inside.
Our guide explained that two centuries after it was built, the front of the structure collapsed, and Newgrange was forgotten about for nearly 5,000 years. Personally, I think a more plausible explanation is that the builders quickly realised the sun god didn't visit these parts even in July, never mind December. This would also explain the message on the entrance stone, which probably reads: "Closed until further notice. Gone to Giza to build pyramids."
But Newgrange was fun. And so were the other places we brought our guests: galleries, museums, pubs - anything with a roof. The sun even appeared for a couple of hours on Monday afternoon; although, unfortunately, these were the same hours we spent inside a bus trying to get to Enniskerry, and the Powerscourt Gardens.
Unfortunately too, the sun failed to penetrate the interior of the number 44's upper deck, due to the dense smoke emanating from a group of teenagers at the back. And by the time the bus had picked up half the schoolchildren of south Dublin, and negotiated the traffic jams caused by the parents of the other half, we were like smoked kippers. Powerscourt was closed when we got there, and it was raining again.
Still, our friends said they enjoyed the weekend. I'm not sure I believe them because, like the French, they were making a special effort to be nice to foreigners. These are difficult times for Americans abroad and, like us, our visitors were conscious of representing their country (which, if anybody asked, was "Canada"). They were also visiting Scotland and England, and I look forward to receiving their comparative smile-intensity ratings when they get home.
As for us, we're going to France this summer. Hopefully, we'll get some sun. But whatever happens, when we say where we're from ("America"), we can expect a friendly welcome.