Parting is such a sweet sorrow

Generally when there is a barbecue, there is a barbecue master (the guy with the oversize white hat) who provides and burns the meat.

But yesterday at La Pétanque Marinière, a different scenario took place. A barbecue grill was set all right, but instead of having a short order jockey singe the meat for you, it was BYOS (Bring Your Own Steak) and cook it yourself.

The formula seemed to appeal to a bunch of guys who gathered around the grill to exchange drivel and play Chef For a Day.
A potluck table was also set with guests contributing various dishes to be shared by all.
I recognize that our party was no Woodstock but about 30 faithful still came to partake in our little get-together.

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From Sonoma we got Ed Porto, Frank Pipal, Dave Riffo (who by the way is leaving sunny California to settle in not so sunny Oregon) Joe la Torre and Rob Everett.

From La Pétanque Marinière, Henry and Calvert, Charlie and Liv, Alain and Evelyne Marchand, Jacques Gautier, Christine and Larry Cragg, Minou and Minette Etallaz, Noel Marcovecchio, Brigitte and Herb Moran, Bart Zachofsky.
Who am I forgetting?

Our party was graced by Colette Van der Meulen and her husband who temporarily decamped from their New Mexico digs to participate in our little “fête”. Colette was in good spirit and sported a new short haircut that suited her very well.

IMG_2176We were also pleased as punch to have Jenny, Kali and her mom Kit as guests. They came a little too late to play in our little tournament but later on they participated in a spirited game and it looks like they enjoyed it.
We certainly hope to see them on a regular basis.

The impromptu tournament was organized by Verena Rytter and Liv Kraft. Thank you ladies.

The following people signed up to play:

  1. Henry Wessel & Genevieve Etallaz
  2. David Riffo & Noel Marcovecchio
  3. Ed Porto & Colette Van der Meulen
  4. Jean-Claude Etallaz & Caitlin W.B
  5. Alain Efron & Calvert Barron
  6. Alain Marchand & Evelyne Marchand
  7. Frank Pipal & Robert Everett
  8. Joe la Torre & Charlie Davantes

Four leisurely relaxed games were played after lunch and around 5:00 pm the winners were crowned.

They were:

1st prize: Henry Wessel & Genevieve Etallaz      $46.00 ($23 ea)
2nd prize: Ed Porto & Colette Van der Meulen         $30.00 ($15 ea)
3rd prize: Alain Marchand & Evelyne Marchand       $22.00 ($11 ea)

Alain

PS: not too many pictures, but still a few (My Photos). Too busy schmoozing and exchanging vacation war stories with guests.

The splendor of Giverny

Impressionism: a style or movement in painting originating in France in the 1860s, characterized by a concern with depicting the visual impression of the moment, especially in terms of the shifting effect of light and color.”

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1920px-Claude_Monet_1899_Nadar_cropYou cannot talk about Impressionism without mentioning Claude Monet, and you cannot talk about Claude Monet without alluding to Giverny.

Giverny is a small town (50 miles Northwest of Paris) on the right bank of the Seine River, where Monet resided from 1883 until his death in 1926 and where he created a series of about 250 oil paintings called Nympheas (Water Lilies).

The name Impressionism by the way derives from a Monet painting named Impression, soleil levant (Impression, Sunrise) which incidentally was not well received by the critics. It strayed too much from the classicism favored by the very conservative French Académie des Beaux-Arts and was repeatedly refused entry to the prestigious Salon de Paris.

 Claude MonetPierre-Auguste RenoirAlfred Sisley, and Frédéric Bazille were at the forefront of the Impressionist Movement and fought hard to have their work recognized and exhibited.

Sensitive to public opinion, Emperor Napoleon III created the Salon des Refusés (Salon of the Refused) to allow the Impressionists to showcase their work.
Thousands of visitors flocked to the exhibit… and laughed their heads off. Critics and public alike unanimously ridiculed the show.
But the uproar created by this event helped to legitimize and empower this revolutionary form of art.

 If you harbor any cultural pretention, it would be unforgivable to visit Paris without calling on Giverny.

From the 1st of April to the 1st of November, more than 500,000 people each year visit Claude Monet’s house and garden AND incidentally an adjacent restaurant appropriately named Les Nymphéas.

Nothing but pictures can adequately describe the splendor of Monet’s garden in the spring.

Click on “My Photos” and judge for yourself.

Alain

Siri, bring me my slippers

When I get up, like millions of my peers I routinely slip my iPhone in my pocket and go about my business.
We have become so used hooked to its re-assuring presence that if we happen to leave home without it, we will feel perturbed for the rest of the day.

When I went to Europe, I decided that I could not live a single day without my faithful assistant and I put my mini-Jeeves in my travel kit.

In America, I routinely use Google Maps, WhatsApp and Translate and I wanted to keep using these handy applications (“no habla Español”) abroad.

But this is not as simple as you would imagine.

To use your iPhone outside the US, you will need a different SIM (Subscriber Identity Module) card and your phone has to be unlocked.
When I arrived in France, I dutifully went to an Orange store (a French telecommunications corporation) to acquire the (40€) required nano chip.
A glib salesman convinced me that this chip would work in France in Spain or all over Europe for that matter.
I was delighted to find out how simple the process was.
Unfortunately, as I discovered in Spain, this is not true. You will (probably) need a different SIM card for each different country that you will visit.

When you insert a tiny new SIM card in your phone, you are assigned a new local phone number. A small inconvenience compared to the benefits of continuing to use all the features of your smartphone.
My phone worked well in France, but upon landing in Barcelona I discovered that my precious assistant refused to work (it probably caught a virus in strike-prone France). Like a true-blue French striker it adamantly refused to do anything.

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I went to another Orange store in Barcelona and acquired a new SIM card. The phone worked for a few days and went on strike again. The subsequent Orange people consulted (no habla Ingles) could not figure out what was wrong.

So I went pitifully without a phone for a few days. Ô rage ! ô désespoir ! ô technologie ennemie…

Upon returning to America, I re-inserted the original SIM card in my phone hoping that everything would go back to normal. Wishful thinking, but it didn’t. A phone I learned doesn’t like to be abused.
No matter what I did (or what Verizon tried) my phone refused to connect to the Internet.

I went to the local Apple store to seek help.
At first the specialist couldn’t figure out what was wrong and finally resolved to reset the phone as an entirely new entity.
He asked me for my Apple password and my Google password. Since I have over 100 convoluted passwords in my digital strongbox and cannot remember any of them I could not oblige.
He sent me home with the understanding that if I provided the required passwords and the Apple Verification Key, my phone (like Lazarus) might come back to life.

At home, after a few well-chosen incantations and the sacrifice of a cockroach it did. “Praise Yahweh!”

Using Translate I can now understand again the sweet nothings that my wife is whispering (or yelling) into my ear.

Siri, get the cat in!

Alain