International Crossroads

From Bar 98'a Facebook Page

It was Irish music night at Bar 98 this evening.  I went, but my dulcimer stayed home.  I need a few more sessions that are NOT public before I will feel comfortable playing with the group at the 98.  Now that my ear is better attuned, I realize that they are not perfect--far from it--but I am not yet ready.  However, the crowd either doesn't know the difference or is too polite to say anything or is just happy to be out, tapping their toes to upbeat music

The  thing about Didier and Bar 98 is that he is eclectic and therefore his establishment's atmosphere attracts eclectic and interesting people.  Tonight I sat with a couple in their late 60's from the UK.  Roger and Jean.  Jean has to go back to the UK tomorrow and Roger is headed off on a train to Monaco to watch "the race."  As in Monaco Grand Prix. Australians Richard and Veronica are in their late 50's or early 60's and in France for 4 months.  We're meeting again on Friday; they have fallen under Carcassonne's spell and are considering finding a place here for 6 months.  I met another couple whose names I didn't get.  The man, a native Carcassonnais, spent several years in Arizona as a tour guide and she is from Flagstaff.  Another guy walked in; Seattle is his hometown.  A classic old Frenchman dispensed wisdom from a stool at the bar.  His wife, scarcely tall enough to see over the bar, came to fetch him--twice.  They looked to be in their late 70's.   Almost all of us came to hear a group of French people playing traditional Irish music. And everyone one there has a story.

People think I am Canadian and in my late 40's.  It's the strawberry blonde hair and I'll just let them keep laboring under that impression.

Didier was too busy with a packed house to play with the group, I am happy to report.  I recognized some people I have seen there before, playing chess or reading the paper or having a glass of wine with a friend.  The old French guy proclaimed loudly, upon learning that I was from the States, that he LOVES America. The Englishman taught me pastis with lemonade--NOT the French way, but a nice alternative.  

I "clicked" with several of the people I met there.  Some are passing through, some are here for longer terms and some of us live here.  It is interesting to me that a place many, many people have never heard of is actually quite the crossroads for people on their journeys from all walks of life.  I count myself lucky to be among them.