With digital cameras dangling on straps around their necks and wearing backpacks stuffed with snacks and guidebooks, they lead their wives and children through the endless crowds and stand restlessly in the eternal queues. They are white, ubiquitous and unmistakable. From London, the Midlands, Boston, California and everyplace in between, they crowd the Metro platforms and mill around the maps of the system. They pack the cafes, restaurants, and hotels and bitch endlessly about the prices. They also congregate in the public restrooms, where they complain loudly about the coin-operated stalls. Jean Petrou tried to ignore the foreigners as he strode purposefully along the sidewalk and joined the line leading to the stairs into the Metro station. Just before he went down into the station he looked around, trying to spot anyone he knew. He saw no familiar faces or figures. The swarm of sightseers was the perfect place to lose oneself, he thought, as he went through the turnstile and joined the throng on the platform.
