Houseguests – A Curse or a Pleasure?

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Houseguests – A Curse or a Pleasure?
When we moved to France 18 years ago, my husband and I were lucky enough to snag an apartment with an extra guest room and plenty of space. Victor, being the generous type, invited all friends, relatives and business associates to visit.   And guess what?  They did. We had 87 consecutive nights of houseguests. I was the hot and cold running maid. On top of that, I was new to Paris, didn’t speak French and never managed to master the washer/dryer combination unit that was hell bent on macerating clothes of all sorts and varieties.    While Victor went to the office, departing usually before 8:00 a.m. and never returning before 8:00 p.m. (so much for a 35-hour week), his business colleagues would frequently accompany him. They were especially appreciative being able to stay with us because their wives wouldn’t be left alone during the day. Even though I had never met the majority of these women, I wasn’t eager to be a tour guide – most particularly in a city I didn’t know.     After I’d finally developed minimal bearings, I quickly came to the conclusion there was no way I neither wanted to make another pilgrimage to the Eiffel Tower nor was Hermes my destination of choice. Visiting Paris is lovely. Living here involves mundane necessities such as going to the grocery store and learning which cuts of beef are similar to ones I knew in the US.  Learning how to operate the kitchen oven was a challenge unto itself. There are conversion tables for Fahrenheit and Centigrade but what is the equivalent oven setting?   Yes, I was suffering acute culture shock. I spent months hiding out in the Monoprix reading labels on cans and cartons wondering if I was buying what I was intending to buy. Where was the sour cream?  The cream cheese? How is anyone supposed to know that baking soda is bought at the pharmacy?    The list went on and on and, even to this day, the Franco – American cultural differences, still surprises me.    Not everyone has apartments that can accommodate a visiting family of four. Remember – people who are coming from any distance usually don’t descend for the weekend. Plan on guests staying a minimum of five days unless you have them well trained or scheduled to visit another destination.    When people ask if they should rent or buy a larger or a smaller apartment, my advice is that they should look at their finances and evaluate whether or not an extra bedroom would cost more or less than putting up guests at a modest neighborhood hotel. There’s something very nice about not having to jump out of bed to be first in line to purchase croissants and piping hot baguettes. And there are those of us who aren’t morning people and/or who work at home.    Just because people are not sitting in an office, doesn’t mean they’re not on deadline. Telecommuting, most especially for Expats, is no longer unusual. And people may work very strange hours since that’s when the company’s headquarters want and need their overseas employees.    Having said the above, there are houseguests and, well, there are houseguests. We’ve just had the best of the best. One of them did the bakery run — they were self propelled and weren’t constantly asking “which metro?” They figured out how to use the washer and dryer and gave me a break by loading and unloading the dishwasher. Each day, before returning the apartment after their explorations, they’d call asking if we needed something for that evening.  We weren’t eaten or drunk out of house and home (wine and such would mysteriously appear) and they were sweet enough to pick up the dinner tab on a couple of occasions.  Contrasted with some people who have been known to say, “We’ll reciprocate when you’re in our city,” these angel guests entertained on the spot.    Before leaving, I found the beds stripped and the towels in the laundry bag next to the washing machine. It’s always been a mystery to me why people re-make their beds before they leave our home?  Do they think we don’t change sheets?    After they departed, I felt as if I’d had a vacation. They were there when I wanted to talk and are such dedicated Francophiles that I knew I wasn’t speaking with people who had no knowledge of France. As it was during the strikes, we had a lot to discuss about both French and American politics.    The adage that house guests and fish smell after three days is often true. But some houseguests completely negate the theory.   The time came to move to smaller digs.  To be honest, I was kind of relieved. Now there was an excuse to say, “Sorry, we simply don’t have room as much as we’d love for you to stay. I made friends with some hotel owners in the quartier hoping they’d take compassion and house our “guests.” Please understand these people weren’t our nearest and dearest – until deep-discounted airfare specials were announced. My feeling was if we’d never spent quality time with them when we lived in the U.S., we didn’t need a wave of new best friends.” © Karen Fawcett
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