Message-Id: <9208280424.AA22874@relay2.UU.NET>
Date: Fri Aug 28 06:27:52 1992
Reply-To: cbmvax!uunet!mullian.ee.mu.oz.au!nsn
Sender: Lojban list <cbmvax!uunet!pucc.princeton.edu!LOJBAN>
From: cbmvax!uunet!mullian.ee.mu.oz.au!nsn
Subject:      Re: le la vei,on ckafyzda srinuntroci xipa
To: John Cowan <cowan@snark.thyrsus.com>
In-Reply-To:  Your message of "Thu, 27 Aug 92 17:26:21 EST."
Status: RO

Vilva arrives in the ckafyzda. *Finally*! It's such a good navigation too,
I feel guilty for proceeding to propose some fleshing out of the scenery
in English. And of course, the Lojbanisations of our English specs should
not be translations, but transformations, as Veijo has rightly pointed out.
Here goes:

>     As I walked under the crossed climbing axes, and into the coffeehouse,
>I felt I was in a place designed to give one the feeling of putting on an
>old comfortable pair of shoes.

Veijo speaks of {.ui.o'u}; that's the feeling I want in the cafe too. A
boisterous place, sure, with lots of emphasis on the {ka vrici}, but also
a very {mela'ezo.i'u} place. The door is nothing too fancy; plain, wooden,
touch heavy, not pretentious. The climbing axes certainly have been
positioned informally (maybe even not perfectly symmetrically?)

>The benches were made of old soft
>oak, in which many tales and symbols had been carved.  On the bench I was
>seated was the inscription:  "Members of the first sandpit expedition to
>find the first digger, or traces thereof- 198?"  The table also bore other
>marks of former patrons who had drank their selections and transcribed
>their feelings with pitons.

What with the suggested rural setting and the benches, I'm put in mind of
soft *damp* oak, and murky late afternoon light. I don't think the place
need be spotlighted, in any case; the can't-look-outside windows will do.
There's not just tales and symbols, of course; there's a lot of good old
fashioned graffiti (no need to be too solemn about it.) The place is, I
suggest, small and intimate, with the {vrici} paraphenalia on the walls
haphazard and competing for space, rather than formally set out, museum
style. No more than ten benches (reasonably sized, though).

>The walls were littered with climbing apparel
>and debris in what might charitably have been termed a collage.

See? I visualised correctly :) And some of the parts of the collage are
downright incongruous. I would not be surprised, for example, if a certain
pea on a cushion lies in a corner, with some inscription to do with a
Kunstkammer. Several postcards, too (I don't think this is being too
explicitly outside-world-bound), from Cafe Cairo, The Loglan Sogrun,
Burnley F.A...

>There were
>the rusting remains of pitons and hooks abutting practically new lengths of
>the latest high test rope.  Opposite the door from which I had entered was
>a ladder - a climbing ladder, of course.  The ladder reached to the
>ceiling, and a solid-looking trap door that made me wonder of the unknown
>relics that lay beyond, and the stories they might hold.

The ladder stays, but it has nothing to do with {le lisri be le serti};
an imposing marble staircase would be a touch *too* imposing.

>Underneath these
>visible artifacts were the dour reminders of the primary business of this
>establishment-coffee.  There were full wooden bins of coffee from just
>about every place in the world, with or without caffeine.  The cook was
>visible to all and in the process of developing the latest creation on the
>current menu, and not without some debate about the amount of spice the
>particular dish required.

The menu is on display just to the right of the partition behind which the
cook is visible; handwritten, with the le'avla defined at the bottom of
the list in the six source languages. The coffee bins are along the walls,
I take it? (Beneath the artifacts.) The waiter does some serving, but for
the most part sits with the customers and socialises. The cook has most
of his/her arguments with the dishwasher, sometimes carrying the arguments
outside the kitchen and asking for support in his debates amongst hapless
customers, slapstick-style (hm, I'm going against the rotation thing ---
others may countersupport it); I don't know what a busboy is either; and the
Manager (and the sixth man/woman out for the night) sit together and overlook
the scene. I don't know if it's worthwhile giving the Manager his/her own
table, and a small table rather than a bench at that; but I would like
the Manager to be a bit more formal than the rest, a voice of authority
amidst the chaos, and somewhat set apart --- a big gun in a story, held in
reserve.

This might be a biiiiit silly, but maybe a small bookcase of NL dictionaries
and Lojban references on the side? And the cafe, I thiiiiink, should be
a bit of a bastion of lojbanism, or at least lojbanism-aware --- which would
give us the opportunity of satirising traits of the current or future
community in it. The visitors, of course, don't have to particularly like
or think about Lojban --- it's by no means an exclusive venue.

>This happy riot provided the counterpoint to the
>hissing, and boiling of a near endless stream of coffee beans in response
>to the always cold, often frustrated, and very determined clientele. . .

Damn! I *knew* they were cold and damp! :)

OK. If you all don't blow up at this, we can go navigating some more...

---
'Dera me xhama t"e larm"e,	      T  Nick Nicholas, EE & CS, Melbourne Uni
 Dera mbas blerimit		      |  nsn@munagin.ee.mu.oz.au (IRC: Nicxjo)
 Me xhama t"e larm"e!		      |  Milaw ki ellhnika/Esperanto parolata/
 Lumtunia nuk ka ngjyra tjera.'	      |  mi ka'e tavla bau la lojban. je'uru'e
 - Martin Camaj, _Nj"e Shp'i e Vetme_ |                *d'oh!*