einar moos

Most people looked really glum and didn’t know how to act. The mood fit the character of the scrutin: rural France and those areas in economic difficulty or conflict with the central government had hit deep inside the structure of power that seems lacking for words—cities like Paris voted clearly yes to the constitution.

We can’t complain when entering the piscine Saint Germain after watching poor Scott hanging his head. The water is at 28°C perfect for a good workout.

A mile later you feel like fresh and new.

France can be happy to have chipped the European Union that is not to its flavor. No, means no, taoistically speaking. The European Union employs thousands of people who don’t care or know their own people. A EU administrator makes more money than most people in similar positions. They wear suits and drive fast trains. And enjoy a luxury that has excluded them from real life. The EU is out of control.

The French government hasn’t been able to understand this and fight for the interests of its own citizen that would have motivated the voters for a new EU. M. Chirac hasn’t been convincing in his speeches and appeared not to have read the treaty authored in wooden language by one of his idols.

The text is dead, yet the EU will continue. So why waste time on this subject?

Regretfully not one person of the government has done a mea culpa. Pointing fingers seems easier than saying “I’m wrong”. Perhaps I’m wrong, too.

We run into him and his wife down the trottoir of the rue de Beaux-Arts in front of the Claude Bernard gallery: bonjour madame, bonjour monsieur, une photo?



Jean Tiberi’s presence is discreet yet he does go out and meet people and listen to citizens’ needs. Despite the glamor and champagne, the art world is suffering. Claude Bernard owns one of the oldest and most prestigious gallery around.

Out on the secret garden, watering the plants, when you suddenly come upon a rose, is a rose is a rose is a rose.

When overworked you only think of food for déténte. Meatballs are my favs. Here they’re cooked by Hadj in a thick broth ready to be served with couscous, chez Kamel, boulevard de Port-Royal.

Just out of renovation, the fountain of l’Observatoire is a miracle of water plays.

The regal pool of Saint Germain is invested by a certain joy and kindness, specially of its staff who don’t know the site is a Universal Pictures blockbuster. Only Laurence is missing, gone across the Atlantic to promote French kindness.

The water is cool and clean, and next to the young ducks of l’école des mines, we clean and clear our spirit in 400 m crawl warm-up, 100m backstroke loose, 10×100m crawl sprints with 50m backstroke to loosen up, 300m kickboard and ondulation, and some 25 m sprints. What a sight, Cricri in her blue Australian racing swim suit, the star of the night, and making everybody feel pretty happy. Wazzaaapool, after 3 years of struggle has its well deserved achievement.

Andreas came into town with his wife Veronica, some kind adventurous buddy who I hadn’t seen for 30 years, now on top of the world. Herbert impressed. Of course, life goes on.