O’Hare isn’t a very comfortable place even when you’re used to it, and I gathered that Madrid hadn’t been all that wonderful either: nothing had looked good to eat but a glass of wine. And the temperature was 45F when we trooped outside--not quite what he was used to. A pity he couldn’t have arrived in March when it was warm.
We’ll try to make him welcome with broken French, but I can only make out one word in ten, which complicates conversation with requests for translation. It doesn’t make for smooth and easy exchanges. (I didn’t take the opportunities to sharpen my French when I had them...)
It is good that he’s finally here. We're going to take some getting used to.