Café Metropole
He sat as far back in the café as possible, alone in a remote section, a cup of espresso and a newspaper on the table in front of him. He gave no sign that he noticed us as we approached, his attention wholly focused on his reading. But we knew it had to be him; he was exactly where he said he would be, on this particular day, and at this particular time.
“Ric?” I said as we stood by his table. “Yes,” he replied, raising his head and showing only the slightest smile, and gesturing for us to sit. Brief banter ensued as we made our introductions, all the while Ric’s eyes more focused on his pen and pad, rather than on us, as he took notes. We explained that we had just gotten off the airplane a few hours earlier and were exhausted from the overnight flight, but after checking in to the hotel, rushed straight away over to the café. This despite Denise being six months pregnant. If Ric was impressed by our determination to meet him, he didn’t let on.
During the next few minutes, Ric gathered some facts and information, as we rambled on about ourselves. He seemed content to just listen and write, only uttering a few words as necessary to answer a question, or to continue the conversation if it stalled. I attempted to turn the tables and find out more about the fellow sitting across from us, but before my questions could be answered, two ladies arrived and apologized for being late, numerous shopping bags hanging at skewed angles from their arms, elbows, and shoulders. It must have been a rather successful and expensive excursion! As they sequestered their bags under the table the ladies introduced themselves as Catharine and Cauleen, from Canada. Still giddy from their recent shopping conquests, their bubbly personalities were a nice contrast to Ric’s rather shy demeanor. No one else arrived, and the five of us comprised the total contingent of Club Metropole that day.
But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Club? What club, you ask? Well, that will take a little bit of explanation. You see, it all started when I fell in love with Paris. For a while I went back every few years to satisfy my addiction. But eventually life intervened, and frequent international trips were no longer feasible. To satisfy my craving, I visited Paris virtually. I looked for information on current events, politics, whatever – anything to have some sort of connection with the City of Light. And eventually I stumbled upon Café Metropole.
Café Metropole was an online blog about Paris, created by an expatriate named Ric Erickson. Every Monday a new edition would come out featuring a few short articles on Paris – anything from deciphering local politics, to relating interesting bits of Paris’ history, to information about new museum exhibitions or even the weather. His writing was playful but informative; not too long, not too short, easy to read with just the right amount of description to leave something to the imagination. He had a way with words, adroitly mixing facts and subtle humor into his articles. His writing was transparent, without expressing strong opinions. In fact, he referred to himself as “your correspondent in Paris,” a nod to his background as a journalist.
Most of Erickson’s articles seemed to be inspired by whatever he came across on his daily walking treks, although occasionally he would write fluffy pieces about his weird Parisian neighbors or describe a rendezvous with other expats. He was not only a good writer, but a talented photographer and illustrator, and would supplement his writings with colorful images and funny cartoons every week. His blog was really just what I was looking for: an insider’s view into living in Paris; a look beyond the monuments and edifices to its lesser-known treasures, as well as a glimpse into the city’s soft underbelly that tourists rarely see. His topics varied wildly, but I was always pleasantly surprised by his simple, straightforward compositions. It was the next best thing to living there.
As quirky as the blog, and perhaps its author, were, there was a comforting reliability about it. Even though his blog seemed to be a one-man production, where he was writer, editor, publisher, illustrator, and content manager, week in and week out a new edition would be published online, right on schedule. Although I doubt that he knew or cared much about the size of his readership, Erickson went out of his way to inform his readers – dare I say fans – about every impending absence, vacation, or sick day, much like a dedicated employee would inform her boss about upcoming absences. Of course, he was in no jeopardy of losing his job, but he apparently took his writing seriously and felt obliged to alert his readers of any departure from his work routine.
Other than that, Erickson never offered much information about his personal life. But throughout the years of reading his blog, hints emerged. Canadian, originally; probably a former journalist. Living in Paris for quite some time, and apparently fluent in French. Never a mention of kids, nor a girlfriend or wife. His existence seemed to be a solitary one, the role of an observer and reporter, living alone in a small flat in an outlying arrondisement of the city. I wondered if he was lonely. There was something very Hemingway-esque about him, although I don’t think he had to rely on capturing and eating pigeons to survive.
I was intrigued, and in a weird way, jealous. How could this fellow pull this off? Here was someone living in Paris, an amazing but very expensive city, writing about whatever he wanted, seemingly without a reliable source of income. His blog would occasionally feature advertisements, or mention a sponsor, but surely that couldn’t provide enough income to live comfortably in Paris? And yet his blog persisted, for many years.
And then there was “the club.” Club Metropole was a virtual club that consisted of readers of the Café Metropole blog. There were no entry requirements – you were pretty much inducted as a club member once you had any sort of online correspondence or interaction with Erickson. He delighted at informing his readers of “new club members” whenever he had the chance. It was a bit silly, and perhaps Erickson’s way of capturing a sense of community and belonging that he didn’t have in his personal life. At some point – I don’t remember exactly when – he added an in-person element. Ric invited anyone who happened to be in Paris to join his club meetings at the La Corona café near the Louvre, every Thursday at 3 pm, rain or shine. In his blog, he would always document these in-person meetings with attendee names, photos, and brief biographical sketches. There were even a few “regulars” among the ranks. Even if nobody showed up, which was often the case, Ric would write an interesting paragraph or three about the time he spent alone in the café.[i]
So, on what was going to be our last trip to Paris for a while, I told Denise that we had to attend a club meeting. I needed to meet this enigmatic Ric Erickson fellow, in person! Thus, the dash to Café La Corona soon after our Thursday morning arrival in Paris. The week following our rendezvous with Ric, he did indeed publish a recap of the club meeting, complete with photographs of Denise and I with our goofy, jet-lagged countenances. He also wrote that it was a club first – we made history by bringing the first in-utero club member to the café!
A few short years after our in-person club meeting, Ric vanished. Perhaps “closed up shop” would be a better description. Rather suddenly, he announced on his blog that he was relocating to the south of France and that his venerable Café Metropole blog, therefore, was coming to an end. In keeping with his enigmatic ways, Ric never said why he was leaving Paris, nor exactly where he was going. He didn’t call it a “retirement” either. There were a few short postscripts to his blog, where he provided a photo or two of his new location, and some rather uninformative verbiage. I think it was his way of saying goodbye, without getting sentimental.
Many years have passed since then and occasionally I wonder about Ric. I always hoped he would resurface and start another blog – maybe something with a A Year in Provence type of flavor to it – but it never happened. At least archived copies of his Café Metropole blog are still available, including the issue featuring Mr. and Mrs. Yours Truly. Searching Facebook, I found Ric’s homepage, which showed he had a total of six “friends,” of which I was one. Clearly, Facebook was not a sandbox that he chose to play in. Sadly, one of the very few comments posted on his Facebook page, from February 2021, had this to say: “Heard that we lost another friend today: RIP Ric Erickson.” I don’t think Ric informed many of his fans about this particular departure.
Godspeed Ric. If you can figure out how to blog from heaven, I’ll be your first reader.
© 2021 L. Wechsler. All rights reserved.
[i] In fairness, sometimes Ric’s in-person club meetings might have as many as 7 or 8 “club members” in attendance, from all points on the globe, which speaks to some degree about the popularity of his blog.
Great content! Keep up the good work!