Saturday afternoon and we're off to the Pompidou center to enjoy the ambience. There is a nice square with a playful fountain. What I'd forgotten, but Holly'd remembered, is while you now have to pay to ride the escalator to the top, if you are going to the restaurant the ride is free. So we went to the restaurant at the top of the Pompidou, travelling up the plexiglass encased escalator up, up, up, and up. As it started to rain. From the top there was an amazing view of Paris - all the big landmarks were visable - Notre Dame, Tour Eiffel, Tour Montparnasse. We decided to join the Eurotrash and get a snack. I think it was telling that the hostess seemed to have to think about whether to let us in or not. She did allow us to sit in an enclosed area with padded surfaces and thankfully tv screens with a loop film that looked like it was someone's Junior year student project. No sound, just a sucession of images, which held Emma and Finn's attention, although I think the subject matter went right over their heads (Men without shirts giving other men without shirts haircuts! Three drag queens lip sinking! A close up of someone putting a womens red satin pump on someone else (man? woman? who can tell, it's art!) A boy toy in spandex shorts doing situps!) Anyway eventually our waiter arrived. He was, I can safely say, the rudest most condesending waiter I have ever seen. He was absolutely perfect. He didn't actually say anything rude, no tone, but we got the feeling that he thought we really didn't deserve to be served. But he did. The best hot chocolate I've ever had in my life. Accompanied by the best presentation I've ever seen. He brought out three cups and two sliver pitchers. From the first he poured liquid chocolate into each cup, followed by steamed milk from the second pitcher. Wonderfully done, absolutely fabulous. Really, next time you are in Paris, you owe it to yourself to get hot chocolate at the George at the top of the Pompidou.