Monday, October 25, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
ESF 4, mobility management and uniting the people
So, my trip to England was very successful on lots for fronts. I found Maureen (who you will remember as my host in Norwich) and we spent a couple very pleasant days together. We successfully met up with Christian (the youngest Poirier) for the protest on Sunday. We successfully attended the protest Sunday and walked its entire route. I think about 60,000 were at each, the conference and the protest. I didn’t know there were so many... idealists out there. (But I hear the last anti-Bush protest in London was much bigger.) These protests always crack me up because they seem to be about every issue under the sun: feed the hungry, be nice, stop destroying the environment, no occupying other people’s countries, provide medical services, stop killing innocent people, hurray for peace and freedom.... I can’t help but wonder if we are more likely to get what we want if we provide a more direct and cohesive request.
A while back, I posted a question on the TDM listserv to see about networking with mobility management professionals here in Europe. I received about 25 replies, including one from a gentleman who works for VIPRE (in Holland), the European branch of VPSI (the vanpool company). He runs (or at least set up) several commuter shops in UK, Ireland, and Holland and helps businesses with various aspects of their employees commutes including predicting attrition associated with relocation. So, we met up on Sunday, and he took me for a lovely Italian dinner.
Monday, we met up again so that he could show me their commuter shops. We took the fast train to Heathrow airport (15 minutes and 15 GBP) and then his car for another half an hour to the Oracle headquarters where he runs a little commuter shop. The shop included bicycle equipment for sale, “talking books” to borrow (for carpoolers), lots of printed literature, ridematching, guarantted ride home, etc. They provide other facilities for bicyclists including bicycles to borrow during the lunch break, and the business park is connected to an adjacent park along the Thames with a path they successfully lobbied the city to install. (I won’t give away too many details since I am planning to compile them in a more official document along with other research I haven’t done yet.) We also visit a commuter store, which Mike described as following the Central Perk (Friends) model, where people can come, enjoy a coffee and read a newspaper at the same location where they receive their commuter services (in a suburban shopping mall surrounded by office parks).
In UK, the government encourages companies to implement agressive environmental programs (including commuter transportion), which they are then given points for when bidding on public contracts. In the case of the shopping center retail commuter center, the developer promised to do it for their building permit, but Mike said that many developers don’t bother and their is no recourse against them if they do not do what their promised for the permit.
The weekend was particularly throught provoking considering that I spent most of it espousing against capitalism, and the other part discussing and examining commuter programs provided by big business in auto-oriented suburban locations. It reminds me of a conversation I had with Maya at the Carfree Conference in July. I said something to the effect of “the people united will never be defeated.” She said “yeah, but do you think there is any chance of uniting the people?”
A while back, I posted a question on the TDM listserv to see about networking with mobility management professionals here in Europe. I received about 25 replies, including one from a gentleman who works for VIPRE (in Holland), the European branch of VPSI (the vanpool company). He runs (or at least set up) several commuter shops in UK, Ireland, and Holland and helps businesses with various aspects of their employees commutes including predicting attrition associated with relocation. So, we met up on Sunday, and he took me for a lovely Italian dinner.
Monday, we met up again so that he could show me their commuter shops. We took the fast train to Heathrow airport (15 minutes and 15 GBP) and then his car for another half an hour to the Oracle headquarters where he runs a little commuter shop. The shop included bicycle equipment for sale, “talking books” to borrow (for carpoolers), lots of printed literature, ridematching, guarantted ride home, etc. They provide other facilities for bicyclists including bicycles to borrow during the lunch break, and the business park is connected to an adjacent park along the Thames with a path they successfully lobbied the city to install. (I won’t give away too many details since I am planning to compile them in a more official document along with other research I haven’t done yet.) We also visit a commuter store, which Mike described as following the Central Perk (Friends) model, where people can come, enjoy a coffee and read a newspaper at the same location where they receive their commuter services (in a suburban shopping mall surrounded by office parks).
In UK, the government encourages companies to implement agressive environmental programs (including commuter transportion), which they are then given points for when bidding on public contracts. In the case of the shopping center retail commuter center, the developer promised to do it for their building permit, but Mike said that many developers don’t bother and their is no recourse against them if they do not do what their promised for the permit.
The weekend was particularly throught provoking considering that I spent most of it espousing against capitalism, and the other part discussing and examining commuter programs provided by big business in auto-oriented suburban locations. It reminds me of a conversation I had with Maya at the Carfree Conference in July. I said something to the effect of “the people united will never be defeated.” She said “yeah, but do you think there is any chance of uniting the people?”
Friday, October 22, 2004
Global Sex Survey
I would have done this much better if it had been my job, but the results are interesting none the less.
http://www.durex.com/cm/GSS2004Results.asp
http://www.durex.com/cm/GSS2004Results.asp
Thursday, October 21, 2004
short film
B says, "I just discovered an amazing animated movie, that you must download
here ; it takes some time (25 MB) but it's definitely worth it."
http://www.knife-party.net/flash/barry.html
here ; it takes some time (25 MB) but it's definitely worth it."
http://www.knife-party.net/flash/barry.html
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
[Paris] ESF 3, babies and England
Liliapilia’s first annual ESF photography award goes to:
• Simon Norfolk for his photos of Afghanistan
Honorable mentions:
• Sebastido Salgado for his photos of Mumbai, and
• Guy Smallman’s photos of Iraq, not because they are gorgeous, but because it was the first time I had seem images like these of the occupation/war
Salgado’s photos of Mumbai included images of a pipeline for drinking water which residents use as a walkway because every other available surface is filled with people living on it. Robert Cervero showed us images of this same situation in our international transportation class at Berkeley. Another notable image was of the dairy farms (buffalo, of course, because the cow is sacred) where the workers live in the barns where they work, above the animals in hammocks.
Why are all the photographers men? Well, here’s my theory: photography is very expensive. Maybe men are more likely to feel their activity is worth spending all that money on. (Women, afterall, can make babies, which puts everything else we do into perspective. And that’s a lot for the men to compete with.)
Speaking of which, I am now in French class with two ladies, one from Norway and one from Turkey. They are both pregnant. In case you are wondering (as my teacher was), I am not.
Other things I learned/noticed/heard people say at ESF:
• The World Bank has put 11 billion GBP towards oil production activity in developing countries (that’s about 20 billion USD).
• Climate change has led to a 20 percent reduction in grain production.
• Entire forest must have been felled for the production of all the flyers handed out at ESF.
• Talks at the ESF took comments alternating by gender. Since about 10 times more men had comments, this just meant ladies first.
• Art plays a role in politics when what you have to say is particularly complicated.
• Capitalism essencially imprisons the imagination with market-driven logic (music as private property, etc.).
• Don’t look at the policies, look at how the money is spent (this applies to every entity – EU, US, the World Bank, me, you....)
• 60,000 people per year die from air-pollution-caused diseases.
• The cost of medical problem associated with air pollution: 10B euros per year
• Half of the EU budget goes towards agriculture, but none of it goes towards sustainable agricultural practices.
• We already knew it: air travel is cheaper in direct cost to the consumer than train travel. Cheap airfare mean that more of the middle class can have multiple homes; sound familiar?
• The EU needs to be the leader in environmental policies, no one else (certainly not the US), is going to do it.
• To keep the English cars on the road with biodiesel would require the entire land are of UK to produce the biodiesel, which means that that land would not be used to grow food.
• Most of the people at the transport talk spoke in Italian.
• Blair’s solution to the problem of climate change: increase emissions trading
• Roads are for freight, not for the transportation of people in private vehicles.
• The roads should be controlled democratically (yeah, right, in the US, let’s start with the government!)
Other observations:
• Double decor buses are totally fun. We should seriously use them in the US. Anyone know what the problem is?
• For all the good things I said about the London public transport system the last time, I saw 7 buses in a row in north London this time.
• In an English pub, if you ask about the beer, they’ll tell you it’s alcohol content.
• English ads are straightforward: “become what you want to be in software engineering” for example. I keep looking for the play on words, the other meaning, the joke – I never found it.
• Simon Norfolk for his photos of Afghanistan
Honorable mentions:
• Sebastido Salgado for his photos of Mumbai, and
• Guy Smallman’s photos of Iraq, not because they are gorgeous, but because it was the first time I had seem images like these of the occupation/war
Salgado’s photos of Mumbai included images of a pipeline for drinking water which residents use as a walkway because every other available surface is filled with people living on it. Robert Cervero showed us images of this same situation in our international transportation class at Berkeley. Another notable image was of the dairy farms (buffalo, of course, because the cow is sacred) where the workers live in the barns where they work, above the animals in hammocks.
Why are all the photographers men? Well, here’s my theory: photography is very expensive. Maybe men are more likely to feel their activity is worth spending all that money on. (Women, afterall, can make babies, which puts everything else we do into perspective. And that’s a lot for the men to compete with.)
Speaking of which, I am now in French class with two ladies, one from Norway and one from Turkey. They are both pregnant. In case you are wondering (as my teacher was), I am not.
Other things I learned/noticed/heard people say at ESF:
• The World Bank has put 11 billion GBP towards oil production activity in developing countries (that’s about 20 billion USD).
• Climate change has led to a 20 percent reduction in grain production.
• Entire forest must have been felled for the production of all the flyers handed out at ESF.
• Talks at the ESF took comments alternating by gender. Since about 10 times more men had comments, this just meant ladies first.
• Art plays a role in politics when what you have to say is particularly complicated.
• Capitalism essencially imprisons the imagination with market-driven logic (music as private property, etc.).
• Don’t look at the policies, look at how the money is spent (this applies to every entity – EU, US, the World Bank, me, you....)
• 60,000 people per year die from air-pollution-caused diseases.
• The cost of medical problem associated with air pollution: 10B euros per year
• Half of the EU budget goes towards agriculture, but none of it goes towards sustainable agricultural practices.
• We already knew it: air travel is cheaper in direct cost to the consumer than train travel. Cheap airfare mean that more of the middle class can have multiple homes; sound familiar?
• The EU needs to be the leader in environmental policies, no one else (certainly not the US), is going to do it.
• To keep the English cars on the road with biodiesel would require the entire land are of UK to produce the biodiesel, which means that that land would not be used to grow food.
• Most of the people at the transport talk spoke in Italian.
• Blair’s solution to the problem of climate change: increase emissions trading
• Roads are for freight, not for the transportation of people in private vehicles.
• The roads should be controlled democratically (yeah, right, in the US, let’s start with the government!)
Other observations:
• Double decor buses are totally fun. We should seriously use them in the US. Anyone know what the problem is?
• For all the good things I said about the London public transport system the last time, I saw 7 buses in a row in north London this time.
• In an English pub, if you ask about the beer, they’ll tell you it’s alcohol content.
• English ads are straightforward: “become what you want to be in software engineering” for example. I keep looking for the play on words, the other meaning, the joke – I never found it.
[Paris] ESF2 and the election
My teacher has me rewriting (French to French, of course) the work of Marguerite DURAS (L’Amant, 1984). I think she has decided to capitalize on that I am always too ambitious in my devoir and I throw in little bits of poetry where I can (my own). The description I wrote of my flying-for-fun dream had a lot of illiteration which reminded her of Duras. I am almost finished but needed a break... always constructive procrastination.
Touring the stalls at the ESF conference on the first day made me feel depressed. Maybe they reminded me of the oppression of growing up in Berkeley (where everyone is a hypocrit and a “genius” and you are a bad person if you question the politically correct dogma regardless of your final conclusion on the subject or how you got there) or if the aesthetics of the far left (which means what? People who care about fish and people they don’t know or would prefer that government fed the hungry and treated the sick rather they murdering them and spending tax revenues to subsidize a destructive lifestyle?) is ugly to me. I came across a group of middle-eastern-looking people who were yelling something at each other that sounded like “nuclear testing” but was probably not English. The building is beautiful but only one table is dedicated to transport issues. It was a UK organization that lobbies for public transportation, multi-modal roadways, and maintenance of the country’s rail system. (However, the gentleman manning the table was administrative staff and didn’t know much of the intricacies of the issues.) I needed a mood elevater (coffee).
The first talk I attended was on oil addiction. The speakers seemed more interested in pointing their fingers at government than examining what they called consumer behavior. Sure, policy is designed to foster “oil addiction”, but we do have some choice in where and how we live and work. I refuse to think of myself as the victom of public policy, while I will be the first to admit inconsistency. I live a car-free lifestyle but I still fly in airplanes all over creation and, yes, I shop at Old Navy. I will try to be better, and I hope you will too. But I am just as complicit in the mess of the world as our government officials and their desctructive policies. OK, I know, chances are I am preaching to the choir on this one....
I am in Europe as a political refuge (says Juliette and I agree), trying to avoid exposure to the election, the war, and the many other autricities committed by the US government in- and outside of its land. That said, I have read some of the coverage of the debates. Did anyone else notice that in every picture of Bush, he is facing the camera and smiling pleasantly, and in every picture of Kerry, he is looking away or you can only see the side of his face? In one photo of Kerry looking away you could even see Bush facing the camera and smiling pleasantly. Meanwhile, you still read about the “swing voters” saying they just aren’t sure they know what Kerry is all about.... If anyone ever beleived we had an impartial media, this should be enough to convince them otherwise. (It is a matter of the Associated Press, since even UK’s the Guardian had these photos.) So, if the media is reporting a close race, that means to me that Kerry has a clear majority. However, this also means that the folks who run the elections (ie, the Republicans owning the voting machines) will see to it that we have a repeat of 2000.
In fact, I read an entire newspaper on Saturday (the Guardian, UK) for the first time in several years (yes, I hate the news; it’s depressing). Get this kids, they did a poll of 10 countries and how they would vote in the US election (France, Spain, Mexico, Japan, S. Korea, Canada, UK, Australia, Israel and Russia). Now, maybe they should be allowed to vote, since US imperialism is so prevasive. Eight of these countries would elect Kerry. Those that would elect Bush were Israel (by a large margin) and Russia (by a very small margin). Likewise, I heard in a talk on US imperialism (during which I cried my eyes out twice, and yes, I think they got pictures of me doing it), I heard that if Europe were to elect the next US president (again, maybe they should), only 4.5 percent would vote for Bush. This seems high.
I also read that the world’s frog population is on the decline – a canary in our coal mine? So, yes, I read the paper, and strangely, I didn’t want to kill myself afterwards.
Touring the stalls at the ESF conference on the first day made me feel depressed. Maybe they reminded me of the oppression of growing up in Berkeley (where everyone is a hypocrit and a “genius” and you are a bad person if you question the politically correct dogma regardless of your final conclusion on the subject or how you got there) or if the aesthetics of the far left (which means what? People who care about fish and people they don’t know or would prefer that government fed the hungry and treated the sick rather they murdering them and spending tax revenues to subsidize a destructive lifestyle?) is ugly to me. I came across a group of middle-eastern-looking people who were yelling something at each other that sounded like “nuclear testing” but was probably not English. The building is beautiful but only one table is dedicated to transport issues. It was a UK organization that lobbies for public transportation, multi-modal roadways, and maintenance of the country’s rail system. (However, the gentleman manning the table was administrative staff and didn’t know much of the intricacies of the issues.) I needed a mood elevater (coffee).
The first talk I attended was on oil addiction. The speakers seemed more interested in pointing their fingers at government than examining what they called consumer behavior. Sure, policy is designed to foster “oil addiction”, but we do have some choice in where and how we live and work. I refuse to think of myself as the victom of public policy, while I will be the first to admit inconsistency. I live a car-free lifestyle but I still fly in airplanes all over creation and, yes, I shop at Old Navy. I will try to be better, and I hope you will too. But I am just as complicit in the mess of the world as our government officials and their desctructive policies. OK, I know, chances are I am preaching to the choir on this one....
I am in Europe as a political refuge (says Juliette and I agree), trying to avoid exposure to the election, the war, and the many other autricities committed by the US government in- and outside of its land. That said, I have read some of the coverage of the debates. Did anyone else notice that in every picture of Bush, he is facing the camera and smiling pleasantly, and in every picture of Kerry, he is looking away or you can only see the side of his face? In one photo of Kerry looking away you could even see Bush facing the camera and smiling pleasantly. Meanwhile, you still read about the “swing voters” saying they just aren’t sure they know what Kerry is all about.... If anyone ever beleived we had an impartial media, this should be enough to convince them otherwise. (It is a matter of the Associated Press, since even UK’s the Guardian had these photos.) So, if the media is reporting a close race, that means to me that Kerry has a clear majority. However, this also means that the folks who run the elections (ie, the Republicans owning the voting machines) will see to it that we have a repeat of 2000.
In fact, I read an entire newspaper on Saturday (the Guardian, UK) for the first time in several years (yes, I hate the news; it’s depressing). Get this kids, they did a poll of 10 countries and how they would vote in the US election (France, Spain, Mexico, Japan, S. Korea, Canada, UK, Australia, Israel and Russia). Now, maybe they should be allowed to vote, since US imperialism is so prevasive. Eight of these countries would elect Kerry. Those that would elect Bush were Israel (by a large margin) and Russia (by a very small margin). Likewise, I heard in a talk on US imperialism (during which I cried my eyes out twice, and yes, I think they got pictures of me doing it), I heard that if Europe were to elect the next US president (again, maybe they should), only 4.5 percent would vote for Bush. This seems high.
I also read that the world’s frog population is on the decline – a canary in our coal mine? So, yes, I read the paper, and strangely, I didn’t want to kill myself afterwards.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
[London] European Social Forum
I arrived by eurostar this afternoon back to the land where everyone speaks English but the shops and even the dumps still have funny names. The queue to register for the conference went all the way around Red Lion Square, but it moved relatively quickly. On either side of me were people speaking other languages (just French and Spanish -- nothing too exotic) and while the proportion of "stinking hippies" (forgive me) was high, it was not overwhelming. I collected my arm band, transit pass, and conference program with no trouble and headed north to Kirsty's.
The problem turned out to be the conference program, which has about 100 different sessions at any given hour throughout the City of London (hence our transit passes). With Kirsty's help, I have managed to narrow my obligations for tomorrow down to being in only a few places at any given moment. Topics range from palestine/bangladesh/ireland/cuba to sustainability to feminism to war prevention to democracy to racism to housing to goddess only knows what else because I can't keep that many issues in my simple little brain. To be completely honest with you, I am most looking forward to the cuban and irish music performances.
Hanging here with Kirsty and the family, we have watched the final episode of Friends twice, not to mention some Engish soap opera and the Simpsoms. The dog is whining and the children and fighting and trying to avoid doing their homework. This is a family. It's nice.
The problem turned out to be the conference program, which has about 100 different sessions at any given hour throughout the City of London (hence our transit passes). With Kirsty's help, I have managed to narrow my obligations for tomorrow down to being in only a few places at any given moment. Topics range from palestine/bangladesh/ireland/cuba to sustainability to feminism to war prevention to democracy to racism to housing to goddess only knows what else because I can't keep that many issues in my simple little brain. To be completely honest with you, I am most looking forward to the cuban and irish music performances.
Hanging here with Kirsty and the family, we have watched the final episode of Friends twice, not to mention some Engish soap opera and the Simpsoms. The dog is whining and the children and fighting and trying to avoid doing their homework. This is a family. It's nice.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
[La Vienne] La douceur et la lumiere
The question was "Quelle est la chose la plus importante du mode?" Of course, we all agreed it is "l'amour" mais I also have to be true to my own stated philosophy. Hence, the subject line of this blog (as translated to French by my teacher).
My mother's dog Bella, who I loved dearly and knew best when she was a puppy in California, was killed by a car this week in St. Pierre. We are all devistated, especially little dog. On the one hand, I keep seeing the movie-style flash backs of when she was small (she grew up to be a huge yellow lab), but on the other hand, she is just gone. It is an almost palpable absence.
Alogny is breaktakingly beautiful, but I feel like I am going to lose my credibility for saying that about everything. I stayed in the tower room, painfully romantic for a lone occupant. The air has gone cold, but the flowers are still in bloom and the trees not quite turned to fall colors. The fields are mostly reaped and brown exposted earth in clean gently curving lines.
Here, we walk, eat, sleep, drink, and talk all the while enjoying the views in all directions. If it were a little warmer we would probably also swim in the pool. Nothing about this life is hard. But we discuss the homeless in San Francisco, American politics (when we can stand to), racism, substance abuse and mental illness, not to mention the various interpersonal betrayals and heartbreaks that each of us has endured.
My teacher in Paris sings in clubs. I have enjoyed having some contact with the alternative music scene there (which I am sure is very well developed but I might not have otherwise learned about right away). I didn't understand the words, but I think it is sort of standard acoustic rock with goofy lyrics.
Last weekend was the nuit blanche when everything stays open all night and artists put installations throughout the city. After a mojito at Place des Vosges, we began to wander the streets with hundreds of other people. It reminded me of a kind of pedestrian critical mass. People flowed like water from one installation to another. First we saw a huge turning pink tea cup in the courtyard of a traditional parisien building. It glowed under the lights.
Long lines of people waited to see the other exhibits, and finally we waited in one. The courtyard had steel drummers playing classical music, a quote shown in light on the pavement, and two different exhibits to enter. One was a little movie, with Parisiens being asked to say various silly things mostly in English. The second was about a dozen TVs set up to play video montages in loops. One was a cartoon, a guy morphing into other things and back to a guy again. In another, someone (anyone who wanted to) moved around a city with a mouse, through the streets, up and down the buildings, etc. Yet another clipped together images from TV commericals of flowers blooming, women eating, whatever (by activity). It made me feel all sorts of strange things including hungry. The Metro stopped running at 1, so we caught it and got a good nights sleep despite the exciting alternatives (that is, to stay up all night and see more art).
Last Sunday, we saw an exhibit of clothes made out of bread. There was also a bakery, and the designer had designed the clothes for people working there -- ladies had exposed midrifts and exterior corsettes made of basket reeds. We were most excited by the window blinds made out of baguettes.
Monday, we went to the Cite Universitaire, where dozens of buildings each representing a different country (US, Holland, Cuba, Greece, Cambodia were a few) gather around a central pedestrian roadway, each with a unique architectural style. There was an exhibit on Le Corbusier... buildings designed like bottle racks for apartments to be inserted according to the needs of its residents. Of course, he designed the units to be inserted, which included loft beds for the parents above the common space, and we argued about the desirability of that arrangement (I think lofts are silly and impractical unless they can be made completely private, though I admit they seem fun). The common space has huge glass doors that open onto a large balcony so that in summer the family can feel like they are living out of doors. The children's bedrooms were long and narrow. Each unit had 2 floors and overlapped in the middle.
I return to Paris tonight, arriving around midnight. I am sorry to be leaving here already. I am sorry that the summer is gone and the leaves are falling off. I am sorry for the chill in the air and that everyone is going back to the states. In San Francisco, I love the fall, but here it makes me a feel a little sad. Maybe I just don't know what's going to happen next.
My mother's dog Bella, who I loved dearly and knew best when she was a puppy in California, was killed by a car this week in St. Pierre. We are all devistated, especially little dog. On the one hand, I keep seeing the movie-style flash backs of when she was small (she grew up to be a huge yellow lab), but on the other hand, she is just gone. It is an almost palpable absence.
Alogny is breaktakingly beautiful, but I feel like I am going to lose my credibility for saying that about everything. I stayed in the tower room, painfully romantic for a lone occupant. The air has gone cold, but the flowers are still in bloom and the trees not quite turned to fall colors. The fields are mostly reaped and brown exposted earth in clean gently curving lines.
Here, we walk, eat, sleep, drink, and talk all the while enjoying the views in all directions. If it were a little warmer we would probably also swim in the pool. Nothing about this life is hard. But we discuss the homeless in San Francisco, American politics (when we can stand to), racism, substance abuse and mental illness, not to mention the various interpersonal betrayals and heartbreaks that each of us has endured.
My teacher in Paris sings in clubs. I have enjoyed having some contact with the alternative music scene there (which I am sure is very well developed but I might not have otherwise learned about right away). I didn't understand the words, but I think it is sort of standard acoustic rock with goofy lyrics.
Last weekend was the nuit blanche when everything stays open all night and artists put installations throughout the city. After a mojito at Place des Vosges, we began to wander the streets with hundreds of other people. It reminded me of a kind of pedestrian critical mass. People flowed like water from one installation to another. First we saw a huge turning pink tea cup in the courtyard of a traditional parisien building. It glowed under the lights.
Long lines of people waited to see the other exhibits, and finally we waited in one. The courtyard had steel drummers playing classical music, a quote shown in light on the pavement, and two different exhibits to enter. One was a little movie, with Parisiens being asked to say various silly things mostly in English. The second was about a dozen TVs set up to play video montages in loops. One was a cartoon, a guy morphing into other things and back to a guy again. In another, someone (anyone who wanted to) moved around a city with a mouse, through the streets, up and down the buildings, etc. Yet another clipped together images from TV commericals of flowers blooming, women eating, whatever (by activity). It made me feel all sorts of strange things including hungry. The Metro stopped running at 1, so we caught it and got a good nights sleep despite the exciting alternatives (that is, to stay up all night and see more art).
Last Sunday, we saw an exhibit of clothes made out of bread. There was also a bakery, and the designer had designed the clothes for people working there -- ladies had exposed midrifts and exterior corsettes made of basket reeds. We were most excited by the window blinds made out of baguettes.
Monday, we went to the Cite Universitaire, where dozens of buildings each representing a different country (US, Holland, Cuba, Greece, Cambodia were a few) gather around a central pedestrian roadway, each with a unique architectural style. There was an exhibit on Le Corbusier... buildings designed like bottle racks for apartments to be inserted according to the needs of its residents. Of course, he designed the units to be inserted, which included loft beds for the parents above the common space, and we argued about the desirability of that arrangement (I think lofts are silly and impractical unless they can be made completely private, though I admit they seem fun). The common space has huge glass doors that open onto a large balcony so that in summer the family can feel like they are living out of doors. The children's bedrooms were long and narrow. Each unit had 2 floors and overlapped in the middle.
I return to Paris tonight, arriving around midnight. I am sorry to be leaving here already. I am sorry that the summer is gone and the leaves are falling off. I am sorry for the chill in the air and that everyone is going back to the states. In San Francisco, I love the fall, but here it makes me a feel a little sad. Maybe I just don't know what's going to happen next.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
[La Vienne] Switzerland 3
The spa in Suisse was quite something. The night before last I stayed in (I am now living alone in Muriel’s apartment in Paris while she is in Venezuela on vacation windsurfing) and organized my postcard collection gathered so far this trip. I came across the images of the spa: it is simple, clean modern lines, organic imprints (the lines that water leaves on the wall from continual flow, wet foot prints), skylights design to let the sunlight in in rays like the hand of God. Squares, rectangles, water, light… The stone is dark gray with horizontal lines. Well, it is better if you look at pictures of it (there are lots of photos online, but these images were biggest that I found after a brief search. I know the spa has its own web site with photos, but I will have to tell you it later. For now, here are someone’s photos): http://radio.cbc.ca/programs/global/scrapbook.html.
There was a warm indoor central bath, an outdoor pool with fantastic views and water pouring down so that you can give yourself a back massage with it and places to sunbath, a hot pool (not quite big enough or hot enough in my opinion, but very nice), a warm pool with flower petals in it, numerous other warm, cool, and cold pools, steam rooms, showers that started several meters above you, a place to drink the water, a quiet room for a rest, etc.
We were there for several hours, and finally left to return to the hotel (which was completely adorable and on the town square). That night all of us were famished and exhausted. It was Isabelle’s birthday. We had a nice meal of hunting game in another restaurant on the square. They brought us cakes with sparklers for Isabelle’s birthday, but getting people to sing was a challenge. The (maybe) Italian migrant workers at the next table were more excited about singing than my group. It must be cultural.
The next day we hiked the nearby mountains. They were unbelievably beautiful, but I already described them to you in an earlier posting. I would like to add a few highlights… Along the path, we stopped to pick wild blueberries. That has never happened to me before, and it was the best thing ever. Wild blueberries. We enjoyed this activity for a very long time, and then we noticed huge frogs (about the size of my fist) hopping through the blueberry patch. (Anyone know where there are big impressive frogs in the states?). I thought I saw a row of bicycles available for free or hire (? but we were dedicated to walking).
We reached a huge, cold-looking lake which reflected the pristine blue sky and green mountainsides, and crossed a damn to the other side where we stopped for a beer. Other activities in Vals are skiing in winter and mountain biking. I could easily be persuaded to return there any time (it might be amazing in winter for skiing with the spa and everything). The walk back to the village and car was an old roadway with long creepy tunnels through the rock. Their air was cool and water dripped through the rock. I’ve read a few books lately where the main character goes into another world (death or drug induced) and relives moments in their lives, and, well, if that had to happen to me and I could choose, I would certainly pick this day.
We drove back to France from there, stopping briefly for a dinner of pumpkin soup and chocolate cake. I think I slept most of the way.
There was a warm indoor central bath, an outdoor pool with fantastic views and water pouring down so that you can give yourself a back massage with it and places to sunbath, a hot pool (not quite big enough or hot enough in my opinion, but very nice), a warm pool with flower petals in it, numerous other warm, cool, and cold pools, steam rooms, showers that started several meters above you, a place to drink the water, a quiet room for a rest, etc.
We were there for several hours, and finally left to return to the hotel (which was completely adorable and on the town square). That night all of us were famished and exhausted. It was Isabelle’s birthday. We had a nice meal of hunting game in another restaurant on the square. They brought us cakes with sparklers for Isabelle’s birthday, but getting people to sing was a challenge. The (maybe) Italian migrant workers at the next table were more excited about singing than my group. It must be cultural.
The next day we hiked the nearby mountains. They were unbelievably beautiful, but I already described them to you in an earlier posting. I would like to add a few highlights… Along the path, we stopped to pick wild blueberries. That has never happened to me before, and it was the best thing ever. Wild blueberries. We enjoyed this activity for a very long time, and then we noticed huge frogs (about the size of my fist) hopping through the blueberry patch. (Anyone know where there are big impressive frogs in the states?). I thought I saw a row of bicycles available for free or hire (? but we were dedicated to walking).
We reached a huge, cold-looking lake which reflected the pristine blue sky and green mountainsides, and crossed a damn to the other side where we stopped for a beer. Other activities in Vals are skiing in winter and mountain biking. I could easily be persuaded to return there any time (it might be amazing in winter for skiing with the spa and everything). The walk back to the village and car was an old roadway with long creepy tunnels through the rock. Their air was cool and water dripped through the rock. I’ve read a few books lately where the main character goes into another world (death or drug induced) and relives moments in their lives, and, well, if that had to happen to me and I could choose, I would certainly pick this day.
We drove back to France from there, stopping briefly for a dinner of pumpkin soup and chocolate cake. I think I slept most of the way.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
[Paris] Talking in public
I have a small physical defect which occasionally requires treatment. When my usual home treatment doesn’t work, I am forced to get a perscription in the states. This happened earlier this week. At home, I give my doctor a call, she calls in my perscription, and I pick it up – very simple. Since this is a civilized country with a medical system (unlike the US), I hoped I could get the treatment over the counter. I asked Juliette to take me to a pharmacy and act as my translator. The pharmasist was sorry but, I did in fact need a doctor’s perscription for my usual treatment. However, because this is a civilized country where the pharmacutical industry is not running the government, there is an herbal remedy they recommend I try before seeing a doctor. Well, it worked, and I am cured.
J&G just bought their apartment earlier this year. Since I am pondering the idea myself, and I already know how it works in the US but not in France, I asked Juliette about it. Get this, kids: in France you do not put any money down. You spend 5 percent on the realtor and a whopping 10 percent on the title change – this is the money you have to produce up front. The bank loan is for the total purchase price of the apartment. If you change your mind after you make an offer (for example because the unit has structual problems and its value is far less than what you offered), well, you lose the 15 percent. You can imagine that this can be quite a lot of money to lose!
A young man started talking to me on the street this afternoon. He seemed harmless enough, so I did not ignore him. First, he asked (in Spanish) if I was Spanish. I thought I looked French, darn it! Then, adding insult to injury (kidding), he asked if I was Austrialian! Actually, I think he misread my accent.
Here’s another cultural observation: most French people don’t understand the way we use the words “offer” and “invite”. They use them often when speaking English, but they use “offer” to mean “give” as in a gift and “invite” assumes the subject’s treat. On the other hand, there are lots of French words that I may know the definition of but not completely comprehend the use of, the most basic I can think of right now is “excusez-moi” which is a much more serious thing to say than the English “excuse me” as far as I can tell.
To complete the story of the earlier paragraph, I decided not to let the young man buy me a beer/coffee today or at some undefined future date. I just didn’t think we had a future together considering that he could not guess my nationality. :-)
I don’t want to mention it too soon and jinx it, but I can read the signs on the Metro now and easedrop on basic conversations. The world is nice and quiet when you don’t understand what anyone is saying. I think I have clung to it for longer than necessary. Now I hear all the pointless things that everyone is saying, and I sort of wish they would be quiet. Do you think it is possible to get everyone to agree not to talk in public?
That was going to be my transition to more description of the weekend in Switzerland, but I’m afraid, once again, it will have to wait for another day. I have "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep"....
J&G just bought their apartment earlier this year. Since I am pondering the idea myself, and I already know how it works in the US but not in France, I asked Juliette about it. Get this, kids: in France you do not put any money down. You spend 5 percent on the realtor and a whopping 10 percent on the title change – this is the money you have to produce up front. The bank loan is for the total purchase price of the apartment. If you change your mind after you make an offer (for example because the unit has structual problems and its value is far less than what you offered), well, you lose the 15 percent. You can imagine that this can be quite a lot of money to lose!
A young man started talking to me on the street this afternoon. He seemed harmless enough, so I did not ignore him. First, he asked (in Spanish) if I was Spanish. I thought I looked French, darn it! Then, adding insult to injury (kidding), he asked if I was Austrialian! Actually, I think he misread my accent.
Here’s another cultural observation: most French people don’t understand the way we use the words “offer” and “invite”. They use them often when speaking English, but they use “offer” to mean “give” as in a gift and “invite” assumes the subject’s treat. On the other hand, there are lots of French words that I may know the definition of but not completely comprehend the use of, the most basic I can think of right now is “excusez-moi” which is a much more serious thing to say than the English “excuse me” as far as I can tell.
To complete the story of the earlier paragraph, I decided not to let the young man buy me a beer/coffee today or at some undefined future date. I just didn’t think we had a future together considering that he could not guess my nationality. :-)
I don’t want to mention it too soon and jinx it, but I can read the signs on the Metro now and easedrop on basic conversations. The world is nice and quiet when you don’t understand what anyone is saying. I think I have clung to it for longer than necessary. Now I hear all the pointless things that everyone is saying, and I sort of wish they would be quiet. Do you think it is possible to get everyone to agree not to talk in public?
That was going to be my transition to more description of the weekend in Switzerland, but I’m afraid, once again, it will have to wait for another day. I have "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep"....
Friday, October 01, 2004
[Paris] Colors, real estate, and Switzerland 2
The soil in Paris is black. I saw them digging a whole, and what came out was black sand like coal.
The colors for the fall are purple and pink. There is not a shop in Paris without a purple and pink window dressing.
Parisiens will not tolerate the sight of laundry hung out to dry, but no one has a dryer and everyone a balcony. They hang their clothing indoors. At the same time, the sidewalks are riddled with dog shit. I don’t understand this.
Prices to rent here appear to be the same or more than SF, but the price to buy an apartment is significantly less. At the moment, I have no desire to go home (except when I try to buy a book that is not a classic or a best seller here or in UK). So, well, you can hear the wheels turning. On the other hand, by the time I have completed this adventure, I will be broke again. And there is the small matter of feeding myself if I lived here without a work permit.... I am working on the solution. Maybe it will come to me in a dream.
But I left you, dear readers, just over the border in Basel, Switerland. Once our group assembled itself, we headed towards the small spa town of Vals in the mountains. When I agreed to this adventure, I was interested in the spa and the company, but I never gave a thought to the Swiss countryside. Boy Howdy. It is something else!
(I feel that my tone is not appropriate to describe the pristine beauty of this place....)
Val is located at the bottom of a V-shaped landscape along a small river. The land rises steaply on either side of a perfect little european village. Half-timbered houses (is that what that’s called?), a church, town square. The houses each have a yard, sheep, geraniums pouring from the window boxes. The hillsides have little structures at regular but not too close intervals, presumably for hay (no one knew for sure) with natural paths between like terracing (but not). Deep, rich green grass covers the slopes. Rocks occasionally protrude upward, giving the mountain a boost.
The colors for the fall are purple and pink. There is not a shop in Paris without a purple and pink window dressing.
Parisiens will not tolerate the sight of laundry hung out to dry, but no one has a dryer and everyone a balcony. They hang their clothing indoors. At the same time, the sidewalks are riddled with dog shit. I don’t understand this.
Prices to rent here appear to be the same or more than SF, but the price to buy an apartment is significantly less. At the moment, I have no desire to go home (except when I try to buy a book that is not a classic or a best seller here or in UK). So, well, you can hear the wheels turning. On the other hand, by the time I have completed this adventure, I will be broke again. And there is the small matter of feeding myself if I lived here without a work permit.... I am working on the solution. Maybe it will come to me in a dream.
But I left you, dear readers, just over the border in Basel, Switerland. Once our group assembled itself, we headed towards the small spa town of Vals in the mountains. When I agreed to this adventure, I was interested in the spa and the company, but I never gave a thought to the Swiss countryside. Boy Howdy. It is something else!
(I feel that my tone is not appropriate to describe the pristine beauty of this place....)
Val is located at the bottom of a V-shaped landscape along a small river. The land rises steaply on either side of a perfect little european village. Half-timbered houses (is that what that’s called?), a church, town square. The houses each have a yard, sheep, geraniums pouring from the window boxes. The hillsides have little structures at regular but not too close intervals, presumably for hay (no one knew for sure) with natural paths between like terracing (but not). Deep, rich green grass covers the slopes. Rocks occasionally protrude upward, giving the mountain a boost.
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