A Little Overcolorful

photo, group, kim and ed hurwitz Kim and Ed, the illustrious Group of the Week.

On a Blowy, Gloomy Day

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Thursday, 9. August:–  This week we have a change of scenes in the sky. Our rotten weather isn't coming from the Atlantic. It is, like, home–grown, nearly. There's a low over eastern France, Switzerland and the Black Forest that is spinning counter–clockwise, and dumping on us from the north or the northeast. In the east record amounts of water are falling out of it.

At least that's what the France–2 TV–news said tonight. They showed folks swimming in their towns and said some parts of Switzerland were having the most rain in 100 years. Today's Le Parisien seemed to be unaware of this, or they bumped the news to include a statement by Raymond Domenech, the national football team trainer, manager, sélectionneur. Ah, football is back. Much more important than all the flooded folks!

photo, bouquinistes, gray skyThe Sky of the Week.

Tuesday night it rained hard and I think it might have rained all night because the pavements were still damp the following noon. It's been raining off and on, and it has mostly been raining seriously. No sissy drizzles. On top of it the thermometre has been stuck below 20 degrees.

Predicted for tomorrow around here, abundant rain in the morning, letting up in the afternoon but continuing to threaten. Somehow, a high of 22 is foreseen. For Saturday the ample, blond and dainty Valerie Alexandre forecast a day of chaotic skies without actually pronouncing the word, rain. Temperature forecast was 23 degrees.

Plan on staying put until Sunday when it just might be semi–sunny with half of the semi consisting of clouds. If the temperature hits the forecast we will feel a bit better with its 24 degrees. I have seen some people around who are wearing winter clothes, like I have not seen since the winter of 2005–06. Climate change is a mirage, of course.

Concurrently In Pommeland

New York: – Early yesterday morning, the augustinian woofies were not only woofing, they were howling at the top of their voices. Pommeland, as well as La Grosse Pomme, received 3 a–inches – 7.5 e–middle–metres – of rain in ONE hour. In addition, parts of Brooklyn were hit by a tornado with winds estimated to have been between 110 mph – 130 mph. Not only were things above ground disrupted but the sewer system could not handle the tremendous amount of water from the rain. The heavenly liquid backed up into whatever openings it could find. This meant the subway system. As a result, most of La Grosse Pomme was without subway service for most of the day.

A la prochaine, Soggy Météo Jim

The A Little Overcolorful Report

You can tell it is August because the bakery that was closed all July has reopened, but with new owners. And they do not make their bread exactly like the people you got used to. Other than that this two–week period has the most closings for holidays. On the way to the club I did not get my Le Parisien at the usual place and I forgot the back–up kiosque, while I took some poster shots of posters I do not want to see as Posters of the Week, but will probably run because there aren't any others.

photo, orange juice Drink of the Week hardly orange or juicy.

So, as you can imagine, staying in Paris in August is like camping out. On the way back from the club I went into the Monoprix to get a paper. I usually only get them from the paper kiosques because they don't sell grapefruits or noodles, which I usually get at the Monoprix. Here's a hot summer tip – Monoprix actually has unoccupied cashiers these days. No waiting!

Crossing the Pont Neuf was another place not to take photos. It was windy and the sky was gray and lumpy, and the Seine looked like choppy slate. There didn't seem to be an awful lot of sunbathers on Paris–Plage. The drivers in the traffic jammed on the Quai du Louvre were probably enjoying being cool as well as being stalled.

In short, it was like Paris always is when its Parisians jump in their cars and race off, to trade a month on the overpriced and snooty Riviera for 11 months in overpriced and snooty Paris. When they are here we are all in the merde together. When they are gone it is really boring, but still overpriced.

When I got to the club's café there seemed to be a gale blowing across the street. In the grande salle I noticed there were many more – dare I say? – refugees, than usual. I didn't look carefully to see if they were all nose down in onion soup. The frites did look good though.

After I got set up in the club's location at the back of the big room a lot more pilgrims wandered in and colonized many of the surrounding tables. Six Italian ladies beside me ordered bowls of spaghetti. It looked like it was poured out of cans. They washed it down with 5€ glasses of Coca. I must remember it if I ever go to Italy. I mean, never say I've come from Paris.

Well there I was, and with no paper to read. The Waiter of the Week was very busy but he still had time to shoot me black looks – until somebody would yell, "More onions, more frites, more Coca!" So nice to see so many cold and tired folks getting happy without guzzling wine.

photo, mr ferrat, corona terrace Mr Ferrat surveys café's terrace.

I busied myself, in this rare found time by writing some notes about Metropole's upcoming companion Website. Metropole will continue to have words with pictures and the new one will have pictures with words. Other than this they will be completely different but will both be about Paris. And New York. Both of both.

I was not completely unaware of my surroundings. I kept thinking of the 30 new friends I met last week, wondering where they are. My conclusion – social networking isn't all it's cracked up to be. If I had had cards to hand out I would be wondering why they were tossed in the trashcan. Then Ibecame aware of somebody looming over the club's table.


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