Best 6€ Chicken!

photo, apertif, table, cafe cup, pastis, sunday We walked kilometres for café on Sunday.

Hawaii Hurricane Alert

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Monday, 13. August:–  Boy, it is quiet. The weather has stopped being flamboyant because most Parisians seem to be absent. TV reports are showing some folks on holidays, dripping wet, putting on happy faces for the TV cameras and secretly cursing, vowing to take their next summer holidays in Spain, like I did after several cool summers in Normandy and Brittany.

Three Days of Phooey

It just goes to show that high hopes can be deceptive when nothing else works. At the end of tonight's TV–news Françoise said that Valerie would give us the full weather, so I dried my hands, picked up my trusty Bic and prepared for the whole lot. Imagine my surprise when Valerie finished with Tuesday and told me to tune in to Télématin around 06:30 tomorrow!

This news service is on New York time. The break of dawn happens around noon here in Montparnasse. So, I have had to consult another source, which is extra work that costs more. Luckily you do not have to pay the value–added tax on this.

photo, corona terrace, gray sky That sky is too familiar.

Part one, Tuesday, according to Valerie:– despite many threatening dark clouds along our northwestern horizon, and a 70 kph breeze batting up the Channel, it is supposed to be mostly sunny here and the temperature will be quite nice at 26 degrees.

On Wednesday, according to my other source, it may be cloudy in the morning, slightly rainy in the afternoon, and more cloudy than sunny in the evening. Forecast high is 23 or 24 degrees. Thursday will be a day of boring clouds mostly, and although the prediction calls for it to be warm – chaud – the forecast high is only 20 degrees. After this, I don't wonder that Valerie was ashamed of it. Phooey!

Fans of presidents should gargle the following weather prediction from across the Atlantic, from the backyard labo of our all–wise forecaster, Météo Jim. Like the ones we used to have in the lands of eternal rains happy as ducks and laughing like frogs, out loud.

Special Alert for Nigel

In extremely exceedingly remote far distant Pommeland, also known as Hawaii, Hurricane Flossie is heading towards the Hawaiian Islands. Hurricanes in this part of the world are rare. The last time a hurricane hit Hawaii was in 1992. If you are reading this, Nigel, put on your hard hat.

For those in nearby Pommeland who feel left out, not to worry. The end of August and early September is approaching, which is the peak time for hurricanes.

Meanwhile in downtown Pommeland, celestial wonders will be obviously absent with the next few days of perfectly ordinary weather, to wit, mostly sunny until it starts getting slightly cloudy on Thursday afternoon. High temperatures will not be all that high either with 28 tomorrow, 32 or 89 a–grad on Wednesday, and 29 degrees e–grad on Thursday, great Thursday, club day in Paris.

A la prochaine , Météo Jim, with an assist from Ed

photo, dennis moyer, uncle den den Uncle Den–Den.

Café Life

The Best 6€ Chickens

Unlike the previous week when I was all over hither and yon, last week's big excursions were on Sunday when I met Uncle Den–Den for a walk–about. With the repaired camera on board I was ready for big sights but before anything, first we had to find an open tabac. Hours later we crossed from the 14th to the bottom of the 15th arrondissement, after wandering about in streets we had never seen before, less than unaware of their existence. Streets of total stillness.

It was creepy. Imagine being in Paris and there's no dogs or little kids or bored teenagers chain–smoking, no taxis, tow trucks, Twingos or lurking police. Not even leaves were falling off the trees. There were even free parking spaces. It was eerie.

After some time, talking almost in whispers, hours later, we arrived at Pasteur, which is not lively even at the height of fêtes, but there was a café there, mysteriously open. In the desert when you are so dry you can't spit into the wind, you do not pass an open café even if your name is not Jim. We did not and it provided me with an excellent café and Uncle with a cool pastis.

And that was that. We had been saved, found the oasis by chance, had our conversational tour d'horizon and the only thing left to do was to go home, without seeing any big sights.

This afternoon I was in the Monoprix geting a few vittals and found myself behind Matt Rose at the checkout, which is called a caisse here. He looked at my stuff and asked the cashier if he could get points for it, on his Monoprix card. That is how Matt made today's profit, but I didn't care because my brand of Provençal sauce was better than his.

photo, sunset, bridge, boatOn a nicer evening.

He offered to treat me to a café. We crossed the avenue to go to a place we never go to, but it was closed. The next place was closed too. A little place around the corner was open, with a wonderful view of our RER station, and two stations of Velib' bikes. While waiting for our cafés he put advertising postcards in all of the baskets on the bikes.

A couple rode up and parked their bikes at the Velib' station. Matt asked them how they were, and they said they were fine. They looked like pros – those things seem complicated – but they said it was their first time. Matt explained about the postcards, having heard they might be illegal, but the monsieur said he didn't think so, because he was a lawyer. Matt was thrilled with this expert opinion. He had been worried he was breaking some law.

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photo, seine, cruise boats, freight barge, race Rare boat race on the Seine.

When we left, after I paid, Matt put new postcards in all the bike baskets. In a half hour most of them had disappeared. We went over to Daguerre and walked up to the horse butcher's place so Matt could get a roast chicken. He said they were the best 6€ chickens in Paris. He said he thought the other butcher, with the 5€ chickens, got them a day–old from the horse butcher. The horse butcher denied it.

He didn't invite me to eat half a chicken. I can understand that – they last two days if nobody is invited. I went home and had my tomato sauce that has whole chunks of olives. Matt said mine was soupy but he doesn't know what he is missing, especially when I jazz it up with Vietnamese hot sauce. Maybe next year in August I will go back to Brittany.

Free Photos of Paris

A lucky chance took me to a Website that is apparently not new, but is most worthwhile. Photo archives tend to be paranoid these days so it is refreshing to find Paris en Images online and accessible to all. These are Paris photos, oldies and goodies, and the site itself is clean and neat.

photo, best 6 euro chicken in paris, matt roseWhole world goes chicken crazy.

More So–So So–Sos

Paris–Plage opened for the summer season in July. Next week, not this week of course, there will be much more everything – especially if it ever stops raining.

The Café Metropole Club

Some of the club's absent members showed up near the end of last week's club meeting, but it was it perfectly fine with the club's secretary. On Thursday there will be another one–and–only Café Metropole Club meeting. The secretary doesn't know why he is excited or even awake but he'll be there. Maybe, deep down, the club is more exciting than August.

The next meeting of the Café Metropole Club will be on 16. August, exactly one whole day after you–know–what. The Saint of the Day will be Saint–Armel. Starting out at Clamorgan in 482 in Wales, he went to Plouarzel to found an abbey. He stayed at Childebert's court and then was given the territory of Saint Armel des Bochaux, for the foundation of a monastery. He is still well known in Ille–et–Vilaine, Morbihan and Finistère, and for slaying one dragon. He died around 552 or 570.

photo, citroen 2cv, from scooter Daring shot taken from racing scooter.

As always, this is totally unrelated to Paris because it happened in some other places near Brittany. You can read lots of stuff about the club and its lone fact on a page called the About the Club Webpage. Readers who actually have read half of it, and some of you might have, will hardly fail to comprehend the other half of it all, and should therefore attempt to download the club's scrap of a free but worthless membership card. A half is more than a third, sometimes.

This Was Metropole Ten Years Ago

It is hardly surprising that last week ten years ago was a long time ago. This Metropole used to just have real new stuff in it every week ten years ago, and even five years ago and even two years ago. All of the good feeling is still here somewhere as strong as ever, totally unlike like this August, which is oozing sticky rain.

photo, sign, rue nanteuil

Café Life Légère 92.1

Time Concept Travels

Today's Quote of the Week could have some connection to something serious, but what do we care? For today's jewel I suggest a quote by Konrad Adenauer. He wrote, "An infallible method of conciliating a tiger is to allow oneself to be devoured." This observation could easily have been made by any of us, but ordinary folks might prefer, "Do not make fun of someone until you walk a mile in their shoes... that way you are a mile away and have their shoes."

Balkan Wobble–King

There are no more than 140 days left of this year, the same number that 1913 had when Otto Witte, an acrobat from Berlin, happened to notice that he looked like Halim Eddine. Otto went to Durres in Albania with the sword–swallower Max Schlepsig, and some local troops thought he was real enough to crown on 13. August. This gave him access to the harem for five days and allowed him to declare war on Montenegro. With help of the harem, the two scallywags managed to escape with the royal treasury. In later life the Berlin police noted on Otto's identity card that he was a professional circus entertainer and former King of Albania. During his lifetime this was never challenged. Otto permanently resides at Ohlsdorf, in Hamburg.

photo, sign, chat perdu

Enlisted In the Patazone

This is totally unconnected to the fact that this year has used up 225 days, the same number that 1918 had when Opha Mae Johnson became the first woman to enlist in the United States Marine Corps. She was a reservist in the F category, and probably worked at non–lethal jobs in the corps. Female Marines did not serve in war zones until WWII. If Opha Mae Johnson is still alive she will have her 107th birthday this year.

The Ex–Question of Schleswig–Holstein

Many folks have probably been thinking that there should be an anniversary for the closing of the sector border in Berlin on this date in 1961. Before this it was easy to cross from the Russian sector, to work in one of the western sectors, but East Germany was worried that too many skilled workers headed west weren't coming back. After that they built a wall, which stayed closed until 9. November 1989. Born today in 1902, Felix Wankel was self–taught. He conceived his Wankel Motor in 1924, but in the 1930s he disagreed with Hitler and was tossed into jail. Since he was handy in WWII, for engine seals and things, the Allies tossed him into jail and confiscated his lab after the war. The first Wankel prototype ran on 1. February 1957, and it was licensed by several manufacturers. Wankel–powered Mazda racing cars have been banned from competing at races such as the 24 Hours at Le Mans, after they won several times.

A bientôt à Paris
signature, regards, ric

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logo, metropole sml midi logo No matter how good it tastes,
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Waldo Bini