Au Cochonnet Marin

Lately, the word “influencer” has been bandied about in the news, in movies, in the social media… So, please tell, what exactly is an influencer? Could it be your wife? Your boss? The pope? The IRS?

Not exactly… even though (if you are astute) your wife’s opinion should be carefully considered before making an important decision. She might not have the title, but she certainly has the pull. In my eyes, she qualifies as an influencer.

But let see what the pros are saying. According to the Influencer Marketing Hub:

“An influencer is someone who has: the power to affect the purchasing decisions of others because of his or her authority, knowledge, position, or relationship with his or her audience.”

 There also are different categories of influencers. Digital Marketing is dividing these people in 5 distinct groups:

“Mega-influencers with more than a million followers (think celebrities)
Macro-influencers with 500K to 1 million followers
Mid-tier influencers with 50K to 500K followers
Micro-influencers with 10K to 50K followers
Nano-influencers with 1K to 10K followers”

Interesting, very interesting… So, what’s under nano? Because that’s where I belong. According to my friends at Wikipedia, this prefix derives from the Greek νᾶνος (Latin nanus), meaning “dwarf”. With an audience under 1K, I cannot even qualify as a dwarf influencer… This my friends, is a heavy blow to my ego!

I understand that an influencer has got to have a niche and be an expert on some subject. Well, I have no niche and I am no expert on any subject… but as French luminary Michel Audiard once said: “C’est pas parce qu’on a rien à dire qu’Il faut fermer sa gueule. » (Just because you have nothing to say doesn’t mean that we have to shut your trap.)

I am not an isolated case. There are legions of people around me who have really nothing to say but who keep on talking. It is almost an American institution, like the Senate.

In movies, an influencer is usually pictured as a young woman constantly preening and talking to her cellphone. This is probably the main reason why I don’t qualify as an influencer. As an old bald guy using a walkie-talkie to communicate with my friends, I don’t fit the image.

But don’t let this blatant ageist prejudice stop you from seeking my advice… I might be low on the Richter scale, but I have an answer for everything.

Alain

Marin County is pleasant enough, but occasionally one feels the urge to experience something different, and we picked Monterey for our experiment. It is a mere 3 hours away (by car) from the Bay Area and in fairly easy reach.

The master plan  was to meet some friends out there and rock the casbah in their company; we ultimately made contact at the Old Fisherman’s Wharf parking lot where we had to struggle with an obstinate parking ticket vending machine. It refused to accept our credit cards but finally (grudgingly) obliged. You should know that Monterey is quite discriminate and does not look kindly on interlopers.

In the past, I had visited Monterey a few times and enjoyed the Old Fisherman’s Wharf. But this time it looked like a tired, over powdered old lady trying too hard to please. And don’t expect to get a good meal in the local “gargotes” (greasy spoons). The Old Wharf is a place that you ought to visit only once and forget forever. We nevertheless bought ice-creams to contribute to the impoverished local economy.

Fortunately, Pacific Grove does not age and is still looking as gorgeous as ever. It can be explored a thousand times without ever feeling any weariness. I of course took a lot of pictures of the coast and of the restless ocean.

Our friends then introduced us to a singular resident of that area. Bon vivant, gourmet, raconteur, sailor, aviator, multilingual, musician… it looked like this man (whose admitted goal in life is to live beyond his means) went everywhere, did everything, and met anybody of importance (including Putin… yes, the Russian dude).

After offering drinks and appetizers, he prepared an excellent dinner, and later regaled us with a few nostalgic tunes played on his accordion.
Recently widowed, he also declared that he would marry any woman who would bring him a McLaren car as a dowry. Ladies, if are looking for a good man (and can afford such a car) I could possibly put you in touch.

The next day, Alex took us to sprawling Sticks Sports Bar in Pebble Beach where we had an excellent lunch. And it is not called a Sports bar for nothing… while munching on an excellent club sandwich, I counted no less than 7 giant television screens hanging on the walls of our room.

The next morning, we broke fast at First Awakenings, an excellent local café serving huge, excellent breakfasts to stray tourists. My bacon/mushrooms Eggs Benedict were particularly tasty.

After exploring the coast one more time, we motorcade back to Marin just in time to avoid the rain. And that’s how we spent a few days in Monterey, far away from the sound and fury of boisterous Marin County.

Alain

PS: Have a look at a few photos

Despite the threatening rain, Oktoberfest 2021 took place as planned last Sunday in Sonoma… with maybe a little lot less drinking and carousing than in Munich. For those who expected lots of lederhosen, dirndls, bratwursts, and Oom Pah Pah music, it fell a little short of expectations. But still, 54 people (without counting the canines) signed up to play and showed up on time.

I went to Sonoma with the firm intention of doing nothing but taking pictures, but in this world, nothing ever works exactly as planned. Toward the end of the day, one player (probably disgusted by his performance) defected, and I agreed to take his place for the 4^th game of the day. We lost 7/13 on a thoroughly wicked area of the field.

But before we get to this… when the list of the players was posted, I noticed a lot of new names (which is good); but missing were the last names of all the players involved (which is bad). For us, out-of-towners, it is confusing and annoying; especially for those trying to write a little report of this event.

Two games were played in the morning, and two in the afternoon. In the morning I shot numerous pictures with a long-focus lens which allows me to discreetly record the antics of all players without their knowledge. An interesting pétanque picture to me has two phases: the split second the player releases his boule, and a few seconds later, his reaction to his (successful or failed) attempt. I particularly love the second phase… when I can catch it.

Let’s not forget either that pétanque is just a game not to be taken too seriously. You might disagree with your opponents about the validity of some points, but this is no reason to get unduly excited. Every player has the right to remeasure any contested point and should do so if disagreeing with the original assessment.

By the way, getting testy about some points is not the prerogative of youth. Some senior citizens proved to be equally feisty and didn’t hesitate (despite their advanced age) to get on all four to measure some contested points. For my part, I’d rather give you a contested point to avoid getting on my knees and to further irritate my aching back.

Around 4:00 pm the local Oktoberfest was over… and we didn’t get soaked.

The winners:

1^st place: Jean-Michel Poulnot & Addie (no last name)
2^nd place : Tim Wetzel & François Moser
3rd place : Peter Wellington & Mireille Di Maio

Alain

 PS : Plenty of pictures