After hugs and greetings all round, a quick tour of our lovely apartment and a shower to revive, we were ready to embrace Paris. There was a bit of a dilemma when Steve couldn't find his passport. The last time he remembered seeing it was at the money exchange at Charles de Gaulle airport. A few frantic phone calls achieved nothing. So instead of a leisurely group outing, the boys took off on the Metro back to the airport. Understandably Steve was in a bit of a state.
Luckily, his passport was alive and well and returned to him intact. He blamed the man who had served him when he and Annie arrived the day before. Steve had handed over a wad of dollars, only to be told there was a sixty euro commission on the transaction. When Steve asked for his money back, the man refused. He said Steve either had to pay the commission or take out a Visa card with some of the money on it and pay no commission. Time was ticking and their driver was waiting (not Nigel). So in anger and in haste, the transaction was completed but the passport wasn't handed back.
The boys returned to the apartment, passport in tow. Unfortunately, Michael tangled with an exit gate at a Metro station on the way back and ended up with a graze the size of a twenty cent piece on his forearm and a blood soaked brand new pullover.
In the meantime, Annie and I hit the cobbled streets of Paris to check out the shops. We spent a lovely afternoon browsing and then had café crème and macarons, très delicieux.
We had dinner at a bistro on Rue Victor Hugo, just around the corner. Very nice, very French., although our waiter's name was Kevin. Back to the apartment for a night cap and several games of euchre. Off to bed, day one over.
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