Yet, despite our international desire to imagine that this is a city where pigeons stay in the parks and the waiters occasionally burst into song, Paris can be a harsh place. It has its share of social problems: crime, filth, inequality, and -- our special treat for the visitors -- not-so-friendly locals. Parisians are constantly breaking new scientific ground when it comes to being unaccommodating and even disdainful towards foreigners. If you do not speak French, you can look forward to stumbling through many uncomfortable, labored conversations with people who resent your very existence. The service industry, too, is notorious for treating tourists like something they recently scraped from the bottom of their shoes. Even the public transportation, instead of being the jolly metro cars in antique underground stations we see in films, are hot, overcrowded carriages filled with groping couples, screaming children, and unimaginably loud accordion music.

And while this does not stop Paris from being a wonderful, beautiful city -- every city has its pros and cons -- the fact that its downsides are wiped so institutionally clean from the media isn't doing it any favors. Unlike New York, which embraces its gritty underbelly in its public image -- "Hey, you might get shot walking to the post office, but that's what makes it fun!" -- the world seems determined to represent Paris as perpetually spinning inside a little girl's music box. This disparity between what we see and what we get hits tourists, and it hits some of them very hard.

Paris Syndrome manifests itself differently in different people, but amongst the most common symptoms are acute delusions, hallucinations, dizziness, sweating, and feelings of persecution. The shock of coming to grips with a city that is indifferent to their presence and looks nothing like their imagination launches tourists into a psychological tailspin which, in at least six cases this year, necessitated the patient being flown back to his or her country under medical supervision. Usually, though, bed rest and hydration seem to take care of the problem within a few days. The Japanese Embassy, though, has had no shortage of people who, in the throes of the Syndrome, call or visit to be reassured that the city is not going to collapse in upon them.

This illness seems to have taken its place as the 21st century gout -- just slightly too privileged a problem to sympathize with. One imagines women with large, ornate folding fans fainting on street corners and mustachioed men's monocles dropping, with a little tinkle, into champagne glasses. Yet, for those who succumb to it, Paris Syndrome and its after-effects are very, very real. Sufferers have reported being traumatized by the experience, of fearing ever traveling again.

But what is the city to do about it? Should they accept that there is an actual medical condition associated with how much of a disappointment Paris can be? Should they embrace the risk? Even if they went that route, what PR firm would be capable of turning "some people are hospitalized from how scary and mean our city turns out to be" into "Paris: Only the strong survive"? No, it is in Paris' best interest to continue feeding into the rose-colored glasses the world seems so ready to see it through. Paris tourism only climbs with every Amélie, or Dior perfume commercial directed by Sofia Coppola. Last summer, the image all over Paris' tourism brochures was a gorgeous model with a small Eiffel Tower strapped to her forehead with red, white, and blue ribbon. She was, literally, a Gallic unicorn. That is how far their delightful, twee little presentation has been taken.