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Flash–Dash Visit

photo: cafe bar le notre dame

The café Notre Dame is a good rendez–vous spot
near Notre Dame.

Stroke of Midnight

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Monday, 5. January 2004:– With a brand–new year we start out with brand–new weather which looks suspiciously like last year's weather. But looks can deceive – this year's version of the weather is worse than last year's looked.

For the past few days the temperatures have hovered around freezing, with little difference between the highs and lows. The only relief has been the lack of wind, but gloves are necessary all the same if you intend to walk further than the distance from a Métro exit to a museum entry.

Today's weather map in Le Parisien looks like the diagram of a football game gone crazy. A 'zig' here and a 'zag' there, and 'gazoop' looping down, a twirl through the centre, and sunshine in Ajaccio.

Tomorrow's map is a lot simpler. In Paris we will be treated to clouds, clouds and more clouds. Rain may fall from some of them, but tonight's TV-weather news didn't think this would happen to Paris. Le Parisien thinks the high will be nine, while tonight's TV-weather forecasts seven degrees.

For Wednesday, there is a wierd bulge from the north, supposed to contain sunshine. Both the paper and TV think the temperature will be seven. Mostly cloudy looks like the Paris forecast for Thursday, with temperatures at seven again. It will seem balmy.

Café Life

One–Day Flash–Dash Visit

I always knew that some people visit Paris for short periods, but for just an afternoon is cutting it fine. This was with the lady with the bottomless swimming pool I met in Maine last summer. She had had a Christmas in Normandy, and was to shortly whizz back to America.

In fact, my instructions were clear. Get from the Bastille to a café on the corner of Saint–Jacques, opposite Notre–Dame, by 17:30. By Métro this can be done in ten minutes, so the trick was to do it in about three hours without freezing to death while seeing as much of Paris as possible.

We skipped the Bastille by crossing it by the most direct way and popped into the oasis of the Courphoto: arcades, place des vosges Damoye. Then we swung around to the north and cut west, which brought us to the Place des Vosges, flooded with sunshine. On the way around we almost went in the back door of the Hôtel de Sully.

Under the arcades at the Place des Vosges.

But we got out of that one and had our first warm–up pause in the Rue Saint–Antoine. After café, cakes, pies, we left by the side door and passed a Monoprix that had something vital in it. I waited outside and a couple of New Yorkers almost came out but returned inside to look for chicken bits.

Then it was going–west some more on the Rue Charlemagne – zillions of years old – and down by the Forney to peek into its courtyard, and walk around its side to get to the Pont–Marie.

We stayed on the north quays of the Ile Saint–Louis – hundreds of years old – to avoid the circus in the Rue Saint–Louis–en–l'Ile. A pass by the Oasis was impossible to avoid, as was crossing the Pont Saint–Louis to the Ile de la Cité.

Luckily nobody asked for details about this 30–chapter subject, so we were able to quickly get to the Pont au Double, visit Paris' oldest tree – in semi–darkness and in winter – pass Shakespeare & Co. with hardly a glance, and there we were, across from our destination café.

As is often the case these days, cafés are full of Italians, but we squeezed into a booth and had more cafés and captured some of the café's warmth.

If I did this kind of thing for a living I would call it eight centuries in 90 minutes. But since I did it for free and without notes, everybody was satisfied and we all agreed to meet at Marienbad next year.

The Stroke of Midnight

Daddy Warbucks called a couple of days ahead of time, to say he would have finger–food on New Years Eve. This was to be a welcome change from all of the six–course meals we've been having lately, even for breakfast.

Some of the regular Daguerréotypistas were not present on account of being absent, which reduced thephoto: brick, dimitri evening's musical possibilities. These occasions make me nervous anyway, because I'm always unprepared to sing, and don't know any words.

Buffalo–grass vodka was definitely in the cards. Compared to a couple of years ago, it is getting really common. With a hundred– year supply of the weed, it might be time to move on to something else exotic or rare.

Without hatchet or saber, Dimitri tries brick first.

Dimitri did not spend all day making blinis for this evening. Nobody else did anything else all day in order to get ready for this evening either, except maybe Daddy Warbucks, who had arranged for us to have two dozens kinds of finger–food. Four of this, three of that, two of the others, not counting the cheeses.

Around quarter to twelve I heard Dimitri mutter, "Should I go home and get my axe, or the saber in the back–seat of the car?"

A completely unplanned bottle of Champagne had been brought, and Dimitri immediately planned to whack off its top. He changed his mind about going home for his axe, and decided to try it with a fireplace brick.

So there he was, with two minutes left to go, with a brick in one hand and the Champagne bottle in the other, pointed at Henri the professor sitting by himself on the opposite side of the room.

Warned in time, professor Henri moved to safety. The count–down began. Sixteen, 15, 14, 13, and Dimitri readied the brick to strike. Then, midnight. Then nothing. The brick trick didn't work.

Daddy Warbucks slipped out of the room and speedily returned with a home–made meat tenderizer, looking vaguely like a hatchet. He said his mom made it. Dimitri grabbed it, took a reckoning, and struck.

The top of the Champagne bottle popped neatly off and flew across the room like a bullet, putting a dentphoto: champagne top and cork, dimitri in the plexiglass covering a drawing on the opposite wall – about 20 centimetres above where Professor Henri's head had been quite recently.

It was the sort of situation when everybody's night is ruined because it wasn't the 'stroke of midnight,' but the very daring–do of the decapitation was so marvelous that it will be hard to forget New Years Eve of 2003, because of the spectacular success of New Year 2004.

But home–made meat–tenderizer tool does the trick.

Several hours later, as we left to negotiate the five flights of highly–polished wooden stairs down to the door, Daddy Warbucks handed everybody a plastic doggie–bag full of left–over finger–food, to have for our first breakfasts of the year.

I didn't make any new resolutions. I never do. If the first breakfast of the new year is good, then I can get through the rest of the year okay. Some years it works fine.

The Regular Plugs – First Time In 2004

These are not here this week because they are within the double super bonus jumbo issue on a recent 'Café' page, which you should turn to in case you dont know anything about 'Rooms to Let Online – 50¢ Etc' and 'Shareware' Is Metropole's Only Version.'

If you are completely unfamiliar with both of these, then you can also find the appropriate links in the side columns on this page – which will save me from slightly rewriting them this week when I intend to do as little as possible, again.

Café Metropole Club 'Reports'

Pop this link to have a look at the last meeting'sphoto: oasis "About the Club' page. The virtual club membership card shown on this page is free, so long as you print it for yourself using your own ink and paper. The card is valid for your whole lifetime worldwide, but hyper–valid in Paris.

The next meeting of the Café Metropole Club will be on Thursday, 8. January. The Saint's Day of the Week will be Saint–Lucien, who was the bishop of Beauvais in the 3rd century. Another Saint–Lucien, who died early in the 4th century, is supposed to have 7. January for a day but has been usurped by somebody named Saint–Raymond.

This Was Metropole Three Years Ago

Issue 6.02 – 8. Jan 2001 – This issue began with the Café column's 'Workout At Muscle School.' The 'Au Bistro' column's headline was 'Silliness, Folly, Strikes, Floods.' The feature of the week was 'The 3rd Millennium On the Champs–Elysées.' The Scène column's title was 'January's Wide Choices.' The Café Metropole Club update for 11. Jan was the "They Gave Each of Usphoto: sign, merci de monter par l'avant a Franc!" report. There were four 'Posters of the Week' and Ric's cartoon of the week had the caption, 'SOS Green Man!'

This Was Metropole Five Years Ago

Issue 4.02 – 11. January 1999 – The Café Metropole column's headline was 'Uh–Oh, Winter Is Back!' This small issue contained one feature titled, 'Sun On the Montparnasse Terraces.' The issue's Scène column's title was 'Dies Da und Das Hier.'There were four new 'Posters of the Week' while Ric the cartoonist managed to include 'Local Weather' somehow.

The Paleolithic Version of the Countdowns

Plucky Paleolithians can unearth the last known regular version of this ancient feature by turning to the last Café page with it, and subtract about 78 days from all numbers except the anniversary dates, which remain the same even if out–of–date for this column.

Neo–Countdown of No Days

On this day 90 years ago Henry Ford introduced a minimum wage of $5 a day along with the eight–hour work day for his 26,000 employees, thus ushering in the idea of low–cost mass travel that was later proposed by Frommer's 'Europe on $5 a Day.'

Along with the minimum wage, Ford introduced the idea of profit–sharing. Another idea was that nobody was to be fired except for 'unfaithfulness' or 'hopeless Inefficiency.' There was also a no–layoff policy, except at harvest times, when Ford thought his workers would be better off helping bring in the year's crops than lying about idle, dissipating their savings.

Hello to 2004

The vast number of days left this year is only 361. This is a number so huge that it is hardly worth mentioning becausephoto: sign, buttons it's over five. Put another way, it is only be 56 days left until our bonus 'Leap–Year' day extra, which will actually be a public holiday in many parts of the world.

In French, 'Leap–Year' is called, 'Année bissextile,' because it has 366 days – with two 'sixes,' as you can see. Any year number that can be divided by four is 'bissextile' except for years like 2000, when it is only the first two numbers that need be divided by four. The next one is 2400, only 2396 years from now. Despite the 'fours,' it is really the 'rule of sixes.'

All of which adds up to a round–about way of saying 'Bonne Année!'

Because it is almost freezing we are still able to skate on frozen rinks in front of the Hôtel de Ville, the one in front of the Gare Montparnasse, or maybe even the one out at La Défense – supposing anybody would go that far to be freezing.
signature, regards, ric

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