France
They had to wait a good thirty minutes while the brother-in-law ran off to buy berets and striped turtlenecks, then another half hour while everyone changed. Super Mason loudly complained that they didn't have his size.
Finally, he announced:
"Yep. These are the symbols of France. I don't like baguettes—screw them. I'd rather eat a couple yogurts."
"But they're such tasty pastries!" Inna protested.
"Not for me. Same with the French language—it's overhyped. I prefer Congolese from the Bantu group. Way more beautiful and aesthetic. By my own opinion. I love Africa."
"Where's your romance, darling?" the second guide widened her eyes. With a sigh she went on: "Why, the Eiffel Tower alone created an entire industry…"
"Shitty Instagram pics. I'm sick of them…" This time Mike's grumbling was spot-on, and the Client fully approved, tipping his beret in agreement.
"Don't be like that! What about Notre-Dame de Paris, or the Musée d'Orsay?"
"Our Museum of World Cultures is better! And it's outdoors, so besides culture you burn calories and get vitamin D!"
Inna glanced up at the gloomy, cloud-choked sky but stayed silent, only muttering:
"Ah, I'd love to be on the Côte d'Azur right now, soaking in warm sunshine that—"
The Client wasn't listening anymore. He was busy having his eyebrows massaged by his brother-in-law.
Middle East
The Iranian and Iraqi spice shops were closed for lunch break, but the Client stopped, staring intently at the displays.
"What can you tell me about these peoples?" he asked.
"You're starting to wear me out…" Mike growled.
"Allow me to explain," Inna jumped in. "We used to have a third guide. He was our Middle East expert. But he recently retired, and we replaced him with Ivan."
"Damn…" To everyone's surprise, the normally cold Mason wiped away a single transparent tear. "We'll miss old Charles Abdan."
Husband and wife both removed their berets and held a solemn moment of silence.
The Client finally looked up from the spice shop window, spotting an Egyptian store filled with jars of honey.