Vive la compagnie!

Okay, so I missed a day. I had to get up early and go fetch my family at the airport, and then never got around to posting yesterday. I knew there would be a few days like that, but I hope to not have many. This posting will have to do for two days.

On Saturday we spent a lot of time getting ready for our guests. We went in search of a pillow for Mom and discovered Monoprix. To really appreciate Monoprix, you need to be in Paris for a few days and try to get by shopping in just the local shops. 

Monoprix has something of everything. It's like a Super-Target (it even has the target on the bags), except French—an entire sections of scarves, two cheese aisles, a yoghurt aisle, you get the idea. And a nice pillow for 15 euros (the pillows at the Bon Marché start at 150 euros). We still had time to visit the Louvre again, have onion soup for supper in the Tuilèries Gardens, and stroll down the Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe.

On Sunday I got up and took the Metro out to Charles de Gaulle Airport to get Mom, my sister Melissa, her husband Chuck, and their children J.C. and Maggie. They will be staying with us for a week. Mom was with us in Paris three years ago, but for everyone else it's their first time. J.C., an art major, is going nuts. Everywhere he turns he sees something he has studied in one of his classes. I think he has taken a thousand photos already, of stores, Metro signs, posters, decorative work, even graffiti. 

Maggie is ten years old, and for at least seven of those years Paris has been the city of her dreams. They are both getting their money's worth. Mom and J.C. are staying with us, and Melissa, Chuck and Maggie are in a hotel a few Metro stops down.

Their plane came in on time, but they were stuck in customs for over an hour. Just as I was beginning to despair, I saw a bunch of bedraggled blonde people coming through the gate and knew it was the plane from Utah. After we got them in and settled we took them to a sidewalk cafe on the Boulevard St. Germain. (This street runs through the Latin Quarter and was a favorite hangout of Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Stein, and the author of this blog.) 

The waiter was a little flummoxed to have to deal with seven people, but he squeezed us in and did a splendid job of serving us. Mom thought the waiter was good looking and tried to communicate it by pulling on his sleeve and saying "Très oolalah!" but I don't think he got the message.

This evening we took them to the Eiffel Tower (a compulsory first stop) and the Arc de Triomphe. A little stroll down the Champs Elysées did them in, and we took them home and put them to bed. Everyone slept like angels.