Real Conversations

The 'Group Photo of the Week' seldom needs translation.

Lost In Translation

Paris:– Thursday, 19. February 2004:– It's a cool, fickle wind that doesn't blow somebody some good, but most people in Paris today wish it were blowing someplace else. It is a cruel, tricky wind.

Officially, it is blowing in gusts of up to 60 kph from the east. Just when you think you're going to get out of it by turning a corner, then it is blowing at gale–strength from the south. It creates vacuums in wind– shadows, and the wind barrels in there when you don't expect it, slamming windows shut.

The high has probably been seven or eight degrees. If there were no wind it would be 'right' for the 'time of year.' The wind is expected tomorrow too – to blow from the northeast at 60 kph in the morning, and switch to puffing at 50 kph from the east in the afternoon.

Friday morning might be partly sunny – mostly cloudy in other words – and maybe more sunny in the afternoon, when the high is supposed to get up to nine degrees. For Saturday, all of France somewhat north of the Seine is expected to be mostly sunny, with a high of 11.

Unfortunately the line dividing the good from the ugly runs through Paris, give or take 50 kilometres north or south. But no winds are forecast. On Sunday the 'dividing line' is supposed to drop its western flank, to expose Paris to mostly sunny skies. The trade–off is a predicted high of only eight degrees.

So sayth tonight's TV–weather news. This morning's Le Parisien is hardly in agreement, with more sunshine forecast for Friday, less for Saturday and next to none for Sunday. The paper says Sunday will be having a 'pagaille hexagonale.'

Due to various circumstances it is not until I am making my way out of the Métro at Châtelet that I buy today's paper. It is also here that I find a copy of the Métro's newspaper 'A Nous Paris II.' I am a bit early today and if all goes well I will be able to get both papers sped–read before any or no club members arrive for today's meeting.

But first I feel a need to sidewalk–superintend the Joes hammering the sidewalk paving stones back into place along the Quai du Louvre. The ditchdiggers left a mess of uneven stones along the whole block – no doubt causing many broken high–heels and other minor or not–so–minor disasters.

What was so easily taken up with brute force takes quite a bit of finesse to put back right, flush, even, nearly smooth. Paris is lucky that there still are strong–armed craftsmen able to do this exacting work. If not, it would be pour the concrete or lay down the asphalt in a jiffy and be back a week later to bore through it again with compressed–air chisels.

All is quiet in the club's café La Corona when I arrive, except that a member has arrived before me. Laurel Avery tells me she's been here since 14:00, having a fine old time reading a good book. I don't bother taking the newspapers out of the bag.

Laurel tells me that the American Library often has books for sale for as little as 1€ or 2€, and if these don't sell, then they are moved to an outside rack to be taken away for free. I wonder if it is an 'urban myth.' My Paris Bibliothèques card is free too, but my local library's selection of books in English is not vast.

Juanita St. Pierre is the first new member to arrive. Contrary to normal trends, Juanita started out in Orlando in Florida, as a crewmember for Northwest airlines, and then moved to Detroit. With additional seniority, she got to choose her homebase, and it is now Paris. The club, I tell her, has members in all three cities.

Last week's new member Larry Frame arrives, closely followed by Dimitri Shipounoff, who promptly orders a jug of red wine. There suddenly seem to be several of them, from full to empty.

Other early arrivals are Margaret French and Erik–Gustaf Brilioth, who only decide to become new members about a hour later. They say they heard about the club from a friend of member Alvin Stilman, who is supposed to be back in San Francisco.

Another new member today is Dolores Lilley, who comes from Ottawa, Ontario. Ottawa missed a chance to be the club's 'City of the Week' about three years ago, but gets the honor today.

Other members arrive. Tomoko Yokomitsu asks me again if I ate the poison 'blow–fish' she brought from Japan. I tell her I kept it frozen until I was forced – yesterday – to defrost my frigo. Tomoko think this is quite funny.

I give her the 'Home–girl' figurine that member Gary de la Rosa brought to the club for her from South Los Angeles about five meetings ago. I think it looks like Tomoko, but Tomoko looks doubtful about getting gift figurines from members she hasn't met because she was on holiday in Japan.

Members Stan Fleener, Diana Rushing and Lewis Rosenthal arrive and settle themselves at the end on a long line of tables in the club's area. Altogether, we stretch from near the windows to the café's back wall.

Lewis says that he and Diana got their passports stamped twice by taking the Eurostar train under the Channel to London. This answers a question posed at an earlier meeting – how to prove how long, or how short a time visitors have been living in France.

Dolores is listening to all the chit flying one way and all the chat being batted back. Satisfied, she concludes, "This is not a speed–dating club."