Tales of travel gone awry

For all the traveling in this summer, not everything could have been perfect. But nothing beats the experiences here. Check out `A Grand Entrance on the Paris Dining Scene'.

One of my own, in Nice, France :

I enter my hotel, and the receptionist has a hard time finding my last name `Grover'. Eventually, a `Ghova-ha' is found, with a broad grin, and so is my room. That my room-mate was a certain Prabhakaran did not help the matters. She tried thrice, but could never finish pronouncing the name fully (let alone correctly).

The night before I left for Paris, I had to cancel a reservation. I called up the hotel, and a distinctly French sounding gentleman picked up.

"Bon soir!"

"Bon soir," I respond, as I explain him my reason for cancelation.

"Can I have your second name?"

Ah! There's my chance. From the recollection, I come out with
"Ghova-ha."

"Comment?"

another try . . .
"Ghova-ha."

Pause.

"Grover, you mean?"

argh...