"A Sort of Controlled Riot!"

photo, pamela campbell and corona's monsieur ferrat Pamela and Monsieur Ferrat, the Group of the Week.

Grass Juice – Try Some!

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Thursday, 5. July:–  It might be premature but maybe the weather has stopped getting worse. The thermometre has been bouncing between 19 and 24 degrees and the sky has been shifting between occasional blue and frequent downpours. It is typical for July. It is familiar, the usual, we've seen it before. Nothing to write about.

But mainly, it is deplorable and disgraceful, an insult directed at folks who just want to have fun. On behalf of some of Paris' 25 million visitors, a good number who are in town right now, I reject this weather. Bah! Humbug!

The Tour de France starts on Saturday. That it starts in London makes no difference. London is in Europe! History says that the Tour de France runs in sunshine so everybody in France can go out and stand by the road with a hanky on the head, a warm beer in the hand, and a roast chicken in every pot. It's in the French constitution in black and white.

photo, beer of the weekThe, uh, Beer of the Week.

And it looks like the nick of time starts tomorrow. According to Isabelle on tonight's France–2 TV–news and weather we are not out of the woods yet. There will be winds on Friday but the clouds that may be covering the sky here will shift towards the southeast – hey, it's snowing up on some of those Alps! – ah, letting us dry out. It might even be semi–sunny and the temperature might break out of its lock–in on 21 and achieve 22 degrees.

Then on Saturday with the winds still active but only at 50 kph, around here it is supposed to be mostly sunny. Clouds there will be but you'll be able to count them. Better yet will be the temperature which is supposed to leap up to 22. Well, poised for a leap. On Sunday it happens, with mostly sunny and the big leap, yes, up to 24 degrees. You read it here. A semi–good weekend, coming right up.

The "Sort of controlled riot!" Report

This afternoon, after the usual rigamarole of getting out of my flat with a view of the cemetery and the exciting ride on the métro, I was sitting in the club's café La Corona this afternoon reading a story in Le Parisien about the loneliness of Ségolène Royal. Her former friends, those Socialists, are ignoring her because she didn't become president and give them cabinet jobs. They should have tried harder.

photo, cafe of the week The café of the week again.

I was just about to read about how Cécilia Sarkozy was asked to give back the bank card that let her buy stuff for the Elysée Palace – where Nicolas Sarkozy lives – when Pamela Campbell asked me if I was the club.

Pamela, from Portland, Oregon, said her husband read all the club reports and he would have come too but he was out of the country, but he had told her all about it. I immediately offered Pamela one of three or five chairs and she sat down and together we cooked up that the City of the Week should be Beaverton, Oregon because she works there as a teacher, teaching English to kids whose parents think they should learn it.

photo, neon corona

Not that it's any of my business, but I asked if anyone was teaching them Spanish. But that's not the issue here – Pamela was representing Mr. Campbell, who she called Igor. She said they were both in France a lot because he has a house in Montmorillon, wherever that is.

And this had nothing to do with us discussing Russia's bid for the Winter Olympics, in the news today, nor with the fact that Igor is Russian. No, none of that. Pamela said she came to the meeting – noting that not many other members were present – to ask some questions.

What about the summer sales? My favorite museum or gallery? What is Zinedine Zidane doing these days? How much will Thierry Henry earn at Barcelona? All worthy questions. Answers, if any, less so.

photo, sofa on the pont des artsA city that knows how to relax...

Pamela noticed the Fête de la Musique here. "A sort of controlled riot!" Or, was she thinking of last weekend's ultra–noisy Gai Pride parade? That I overlooked completely while in Chinatown.

Pamela also wondered about the art fans in the museums, holding up their phones or little cameras to take photos of everything instead of looking at the stuff. Would Picasso be amused? Too cheap to buy the perfectly photographed postcards?

Popular culture – are there monthly bike randos like the Critical Mass events? I missed this one, thinking it's about the phone–organized mobbing that I've heard about, but discounted because I have no phone. Or was Pamela thinking of the Friday night Roller Rando? I had to look them up. Yoohoo! No roller rando scheduled for Friday, 13. July on account of Bastille eve fêtes!

All that culture. I almost forget that we needed to have a Group Photo of the Week and out on the café's terrace Pamela was good about being the centre of attention. Luckily, the café's Monsieur Ferrat saw that we could use some assistance. He joined in, as you can see above. And that was, as we say, that.

News You Can Use II

Not Texas Bumgle

Member Ramona McDaris , writing from Texas, has tuned in to point out that Vlado Putin did not go fishing with G.W. Bush in Texas. Apparently the rocks seen on the TV–news were not in Texas. In fact, there are no rocks in Texas, only sand. The two world leaders were apparently in Maine. I wondered why it looked so cold and rocky, and now I know. Thank you, Ramona.

photo, cojean shopCojean – three doors north.

Putin Mangles French

Today's surprise news concerned Vlado Putin, again. After not catching any fish in Maine he scooted off to Guatemala where he discoursed in French. This so impressed the Olympic Committee meeting there to discuss who would be awarded the upcoming boondoggles, that they selected the summer resort of Sochi for the Winter Olympics sometime later in this century.

We also learned that Mister Putin is an avid skier, and would like to substitute Sochi for Davos as soon as it is properly boondoggled. Reports also said the Russians built an ice rink in front of a local hot dog stand, to show off their hockey skills. Canadians whistled.

No Umlaut Bloop

Member James MacNiel, writing from the Black Forest, has reminded me that Bödensee has no umlaut. There is a Bodensee with an umlaut in the Tirol or Austria. Luckily Bodensee is also known as Lake Konstanz, without an umlaut, but English readers may want it spelled with a C instead of a K. Thank you, James. Nobody wrote to say anything about the other dubious words last week. What's wrong with you?

Green Weed Juice

I used to snatch photos of window items from the bakery a few doors from La Corona. It closed for renovations last year and while I wasn't paying attention it opened again. The former dowdy tea room and old–time pastry shop is now a new age café, named Cojean, all nice, tidy and repainted. What I thought was green grass is really leaves of wheat and it is served as a juice. They call it, appropriately, jus d'herbe de blé and it is absolutely chock full of healthy vitamins, they claim.

photo, cojean delight, green herbe Fresh green herbe chez Cojean.

Soldes d'Eté Forever

The annual summer sales in Paris began on Wednesday, 27. June at 8:00 and they will continue until Saturday, 4. August. Some say a lot of price tickets have been slashed by 50% while others say there are a lot of goods to be flogged and discounts may touch 70% off. After slightly more than a week some of this stuff is still left for you.

Pont des Arts Sofa Lark

I do not know what this is about except the two dudes installed in it seemed to have next to nothing in the way of worries.

About the Café Metropole Club

Slither your mouse towards the club meeting report in lurking deep in the shallow universe of the Internet. Speed reading short reports is faster than being at long club meetings but only provides a smidgin of the dialogue. The explanation of what we might have been doing here, can be found on the out–of–dated About the Café Metropole Club webpage.

graphic, club location map

The Usual Unreadable Fine Print

Nearly spontaneous as usual, half unrehearsed, partly out of control and again less than two members. Club meetings are actually from 15:00 to 17:00 every Thursday. The next meeting will be on Thursday, 12. July, the eve of the Bastille eve. These times are the same as to 3 pm to 5 pm around some other places, while meetings are held around here. Whatever you feel like saying will be truly appreciated by the other members present if they are listening, and sometimes they are, but not always – and if it was by hearsay, inscribed here.* Your other, totally true, stories are all welcome too. Members like a good laugh.

Caution – should you have a personal desire to remain unfindable via the Web, be sure to inform the club's secretary that you prefer to be 404 – not found by Web search engines before becoming found. Not being a club member gets you zilch.

*The above paragraphs are relatively unchanged since last week because of the bikes out to take over the world just as every man and woman in China decides to buy a stinky car.

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.
Next club meeting on Thursday, 12. July.

A bientôt à Paris
signature, regards, ric

Send email concerning the
contents to: Ric Erickson, Editor.
Metropole Midi © 2014
– unless stated otherwise.
logo, metropole sml midi logo No matter how good it tastes,
there is no such thing
as a free lunch.
Waldo Bini