...Continued from page 1

It turns out that Tomoko doesn't want to show us her sundial, but her brand new big apple sandals instead. With these we get the club's first 'Big Apple Sandals of the Week' and as a bonus, ten painted toenails too. It's just too much!

After Albert – does everybody remember the meeting Albert wasn't at? It was the one on 18. November 2004, which was Beaujolais Nouveau day no less. There was the sign, 'Hello Albert!' Don't remember that?

So, Albert says, when Len asks him, that he sells expatriate insurance. And before I can ask, everybody else decides that we must talk about hurricanes and earthquakes and Len wants to know from Tomoko how Japan keeps on standing with so many of both.

Tomoko, living in Paris the past 28 years, thinks it may be because Japanese houses, even if they are built out of rice paper and popsicle sticks, are built out of sturdy rice paper and popsicle sticks.

Then Barbara starts telling us about taking the train to Vernon in order to get to Giverny. The Roldans got there just as the hordes were having noon hunger pangs, so they did the tour while everybody was eating. They say it is the only way to do it.

Next up is the health of Jacques Chirac, who is carefully rebuilding his capacity for eating authentic snacks, shaking hands and pinching babies. "Isn't it funny how we say 72 isn't old?" Barbara says. We all, except Tomoko, laugh.

Which changes the subject to Japan's prime minister with the hair. 'Koizuhi' Tomoko writes when I ask her. Is this his first name, like 'Dominique,' for De Villepin? Their hair is similar. Tomoko says he isn't married. Who ever heard of a Japanese prime minister who isn't married? This reminds someone that nobody has ever heard of a Japanese prime minister's wife.

Len peppers Tomoko with technical questions about Japan's parliamentary system, while explaining about America's. Tomoko says, "I've been away a long time," but thinks Japan has a system more British style than American. In other words, kind of like the French too – with longer hair.

Did I say what we did about the 'Group Photo of the Week?' If I've forgotten it, it was about the same as ever. Go out on the terrace and then find the right shade because the sun is too bright, and then shoot, shoot, shoot, while the club members patiently try to figure out what's happening. They can't, for example, hear anything out there. You're lovely.

Club–Bis

After the meeting is over Tomoko hauls out the text she wants help translating. It is the so–called report about the 'Beatles Story' show. She wants the Ricky–version translated into English. She is right. It's a horrible mess. But actually, Tomoko understands nearly everything except the unfair references I made to Munich, and the words in German. Anyway, it's not for her but for Ringo. It only takes 20 minutes to cover all my mistakes.

Club–Bis–Bis

Last week there was a minor reference to a town named Tarzana here. I searched the Web for a mention of a reunionphoto, wine of the week of Tarzana residents, which was related to, not much, nothing at all. Most of what I found were real estate Web sites and a tiny bit of history, which I tossed in, for the usual reasons.

I even asked Metropole's Hollywood contact about Tarzana, and what Alan said wasn't promising. But with a hint from him I grabbed my atlas and discovered for the first time in my entire life that the San Fernando Valley is north of Los Angeles. It's not where I thought it was, out east. I was amazed at the discovery. All those books, and I got them all wrong.

The 'Green Drink of the Week.' Way cool!

So when Bill Hillman wrote to point out a few minor errors with my brief history of Tarzana I wasn't too surprised. With a whole new valley where I thought there were only mountains, small wonder that Tarzana is in it. Bill is the editor for the Official Edgar Rice Burroughs 'Zine, so hit the link and get the real goods – on Tarzana, on Tarzan and ERB himself.

The Café Metropole Club's About Page

This club meeting 'report,' today's, daintily tapped out with my own little fingers, gives only a slight clue to what this is about. If you have a quarter hour to waste skim your headlights across the virtual 'About the Café Metropole Club' page with its silly farrago of photos, stilted writing and the mangled wreck of a membership card. You can join the club too, without money, ID or plastic, on any 'Thursday of the Week.' There are a still a few of them left this year.

When, How, What, Why Not, Who, Where?

Club meetings, believe it of not, begin at 15:00, in the afternoon, on Thursdays and continue until 17:00, always in the western Euro Time zone, now in its uphill trek towards winter. Known in wholly offshore locales as 3 pm to 5 pm, around somewhere else is not where meetings happen. Come to the café La Corona and its 'grande salle.' Bring a friend or two. The folks in the rear of the 'grande salle,' with the bottles, are us.

Attend a meeting – by being at one. Hang out for a hour or for a whole meeting with new friends. Real 'firsts' are welcome, with 'true' being equivalent to 'real' even if 'first' is more than likely too, and if it is an alternate form of 'reality' with any sort of connection to truth, like true lies or fictional facts.

A note of caution – you may have personal reasons for remaining unfindable via the Web. If so, be sure to inform the club's secretary that you prefer to be '404 – not found' by Web search engines before becoming 'found' ingraphic: club location map one of these club reports. Slot your own name into Metropole's search if in doubt.

The 'ex–rules' that we used to have continue to be former. Nonetheless these discontinued rules may still be accessed so that you can learn that this less than hypothetical club of high purpose repeats them seldom as they are already on record, if unfindable.

Talking to other club members at meetings is encouraged rather than optional. There are usually several empty chairs, so sit – wherever you like. Standing is okay too. Whatever you say will be truly appreciated by other members present if there are any listening, and there usually are some but not always – and if it should chance to be written here.*

*The above paragraphs are relatively unchanged since last week because of today's quite spontaneous spelling of the Japanese prime minister's name, regardless of whether it is true or not.

The café's location is:

Café–Tabac La Corona
2. Rue de l'Amiral de Coligny – or – 30. Quai du Louvre
Paris 1. Métro: Louvre–Rivoli, Pont–Neuf or Châtelet.
Every Thursday, from 15:00 to 17:00.

A bientôt à Paris
signature, regards, ric

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