First, I will need to get used to this French keyboard. That said, we have a lot to catch up on....
It took no fewer than 7 different transportation modes, and many hours, to return the short distance from Mallorca to Paris:
• Jean Pierre (father Bousseau) drove me to the airport
• 2 planes (change in Zurich, tho that doesn’t really make sense)
• bus from the departure area to the RER
• 2 RER trains
• walk from Nation in order to avoid having to take the Metro too
• TOTAL: 7
Why do I keep arranging this kind of travel for myself? (I know you are already crying with boredom, or you have skipped this part to a hopefully more interesting part that I am going to write. Hopefully, I will write something interesting tonight....) Yes, I paid too much for my ticket and both planes were late, but more importantly the RER did not come to Roissy for one hour. No RER train came for one hour. (OK, I feel better now. I have some rosé to help too.)
“All trains are going to Paris” that’s what it said on the RER platform. It reminds me of the BART train announcers who say “This train is destined for Daly City”. As if a train has a destiny. Maybe they do. Maybe we, all of us, are trains in different systems, passing each other at various speeds and times of day (night?) towards the station of our “destiny”, um, I mean, destination. ...Has it been too long since I had a real conversation? If so, I am getting very high maintence because Jean Pierre and I had a lovely time this morning at the beach, etc.
I finished reading Brick Lane (by Monica Ali) yesterday, and I must say, I was impressed. It’s a new favorite. (I will need to change my tribe.net profile.) In some way, this book is so deep and wide and clear (yes, like a river or maybe more like an ocean) that is seems to encompass everything, to address every love and fear and conflict, personal and global, everywhere. I have always wanted to write (and, for that matter, read) a book like that.
When I took my first City Planning class, in 1996 (Intro to City Planning, CP100 summer session at Berkeley), I could see that our TA (Asha) felt this way about planning. She was not yet discouraged by the NIMBYs, and the car-addicts, and people that feel they need a backyard for status or something even if they never use or maintain it. I was already discouraged by these things, but it was clear that Asha was too in love with the field to see them, or maybe she just didn’t care (like a lover who’s put on a few kilos?). She’d talk about what planning was and could be (in general) and get starry eyed, eyes uplifted. Was I supposed to ever feel like that about my profession? Or about anything/one? (This is actually something I am working on!)
Oh, I never gave you a clue about the transition... The book is about a young Bangladeshi woman who comes to London for an arranged marriage, always leaving everything to “fate” like her mother taught her she should, and eventually learns to take control of her life to the backdrop of anti-Moslem sentiments in response to Sept 11. Having wrestled with the idea of fate throughout my life, I love the quotes at the beginning of the book:
“Sternly, remorselessly, fate guides each of us; only at the beginning, when we are absorbed in details, in sorts of nonsense, in ourselves, are we unaware of its harsh hand.” -Ivan Turgenev
“A man’s character is his fate.” –Heraclitus; or Personality is fate.
I have a couple other favorite quotes from the book that are actually by the author to share with you:
“’Anything is possible so everything I wanted was possible,’ Chanu went on. ‘But what about all the other possibilities? The ones we never see when we are young, but are there all along. One day you wake up and say to yourself, I didn’t choose this. And then you spend a long time thinking, but I did?’” (pg. 374) Chanu (the husband), while brilliantly created, is not a character I particularly connected with, but these words, in a way, continue my conversation (with myself) from Le Divorce. What do we choose? What don’t we? What about all the other things? Do we really know what we are choosing (good and bad)? ...When I went to grad school I felt overwhelming uncertainly, but I also knew that doing something is better than being paralysed by my own potential and doing nothing at all. I still don’t know if I went for the right thing, but I am grateful (to my former self?) that I went.
Maybe this is not such a great quote, but it moved me deeply:
“’What is all this Big Man?’ She whispered in his ear. Sadness crushed her chest. It pressed everything out of her and filled the hollows of her bones. ‘What is all this Strong Man? Do you think that is why I love you? Is that what there is in you to be loved?” (pg; 477-8) Even typing it now, my eyes fill with tears. This is a driving force in the book and in my reality as well (balanced with the need to be understood and the need to be oneself, whatever that is.) If loved is what we want, why do we spend so much time alone trying to make ourselves lovable in artificial ways (Big, Strong, independant, smart, whatever)? Maybe outside the book, Chanu is my favorite character... as long as I don’t have to spend too much time with him.
All that having been said, I have still told you almost nothing about Mallorca. Hopefully, I will do it tomorrow.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Sunday, August 22, 2004
[La Vienne] Le Divorce
Le Divorce (by Diane Johnson) is a nice middle-brow book about Californians in Paris. I wonder if we can trust its generalizations of both Californians and the French. With the exception of character, they might be sound. I like the book’s layers of concerns from the personal to the international. While the ending is a bit facile, it is happy. You’ve heard me say it many times: I prefer a happy ending (to a deep one?).
Here are my favorite lines from the novel:
“I was coming across Place de la Concorde on the 24 bus, at dusk just when the lanterns went on, and flakes of snow drifted down in this pinkish gray half-light, and it was so beautiful, tears sprang to my eyes. Then I realized they weren’t tears of beauty, they were just tears. It was I who was sad, just under the surface, where the sight of something fragile like a snowflake seemed unbearably to predict its loss." (Diane Johnson, Le Divorce, pg 180-181)
I have written about the moment before, it must have been February or March of 1998, 6 or 8 months after Grayson moved out, when we were walking together in Golden Gate Park and the double cherry blossoms were out in full, extravagant, cream-puff force. The trees looked like light pink cotton candy with tiny petals falling away in the pleasant spring breeze like snow. Their beauty made me short of breath, and then I felt overwhelming disapproval of them. Who did they think they were, looking like that public? What kind of a crazy world has trees that look like pink meringue in the spring when children are starving and hearts breaking everywhere? Someday, I hope to be able to see beauty like that without reacting in some shade of despair.
I have started reading Brick Lane, by Monica Ali, from my mother’s shelves. Coincidentally, I found similar sentiments on page 37: (the main character, Nazneen, is seeing figure skating on TV for the first time "Her (the figure skater’s) chest pumped up and down as if her heart would shoot out and she smiled pure, gold joy. She must be terrified, thought Nazneen, because such things cannot he held, and must be lost.”
Johnson quotes Proust (The Past Recaptured) later in the book: “But whoever it is who has thus determined the course of our life has, in doing so, excluded all the other lives we might have led instead of our actual life.” Years ago, I wrote a poem about this idea, likening it to the place in China where they have unearthed a life-sized, stone-carved army. Each solder is unique, like all the other lives we might have lead, people we might have loved or been.
Today my mother and I took a canoe down the river. Very beautiful. This evening I take the train to Paris for my flight tomorrow morning to Mallorca. I do not expect to have internet access while I am there.
Here are my favorite lines from the novel:
“I was coming across Place de la Concorde on the 24 bus, at dusk just when the lanterns went on, and flakes of snow drifted down in this pinkish gray half-light, and it was so beautiful, tears sprang to my eyes. Then I realized they weren’t tears of beauty, they were just tears. It was I who was sad, just under the surface, where the sight of something fragile like a snowflake seemed unbearably to predict its loss." (Diane Johnson, Le Divorce, pg 180-181)
I have written about the moment before, it must have been February or March of 1998, 6 or 8 months after Grayson moved out, when we were walking together in Golden Gate Park and the double cherry blossoms were out in full, extravagant, cream-puff force. The trees looked like light pink cotton candy with tiny petals falling away in the pleasant spring breeze like snow. Their beauty made me short of breath, and then I felt overwhelming disapproval of them. Who did they think they were, looking like that public? What kind of a crazy world has trees that look like pink meringue in the spring when children are starving and hearts breaking everywhere? Someday, I hope to be able to see beauty like that without reacting in some shade of despair.
I have started reading Brick Lane, by Monica Ali, from my mother’s shelves. Coincidentally, I found similar sentiments on page 37: (the main character, Nazneen, is seeing figure skating on TV for the first time "Her (the figure skater’s) chest pumped up and down as if her heart would shoot out and she smiled pure, gold joy. She must be terrified, thought Nazneen, because such things cannot he held, and must be lost.”
Johnson quotes Proust (The Past Recaptured) later in the book: “But whoever it is who has thus determined the course of our life has, in doing so, excluded all the other lives we might have led instead of our actual life.” Years ago, I wrote a poem about this idea, likening it to the place in China where they have unearthed a life-sized, stone-carved army. Each solder is unique, like all the other lives we might have lead, people we might have loved or been.
Today my mother and I took a canoe down the river. Very beautiful. This evening I take the train to Paris for my flight tomorrow morning to Mallorca. I do not expect to have internet access while I am there.
Friday, August 20, 2004
[La Vienne]Tubingen part 2
Tubingen…. We left our heroes having seen, taken photos, and discussed the 2 significant new urban reuse projects on the south end of the city. They had had a good, if tipsy, lunch. They had found hidden, unofficial, living places where the residents had created an organic community. This left them with two final goals to their day’s adventure:
1) To drink some water (you will recall that it was quite hot) and
2) To explore that city center.
On our way towards the city center we passed a huge supermarket and sought drinking water inside. It had multiple floors that were connected not by elevators or escalators, but by long, moving ramps so that shoppers could take their cart from floor to floor in great masses. The guys were going to get just one water, but I insisted on a second, which Bertrand ended up hogging :-). We continued our trek towards the center (not far, and on the way back to the parking garage where we left the car). However, it required the use of several pedestrian overpasses above major roadways (implying that cars are more important than people).
I don’t know why Tubingen is not a major tourist destination. Maybe it is better as another hidden treasure. The historic center is lovely. People road boats along the river lined with beautiful, densely-packed buildings. Alongside one part of the river is a pedestrian walkway and another has a beer garden. The riverbank, the city, has a steep incline, and the transportation network in this area includes a number of small pedestrian paths with stairways between roads that could squeeze in a car. The town square, also on a bit of a slope a block or two to the river, is like other town squares I have seen in Europe, as pretty as the prettiest. Of course, the bridges over the river are old and stone, and because this is Germany, lined with flower boxes. In fact, flowers are everywhere.
We made a small loop through the center, and then settled down at the beer garden since we had about an hour before having to leave in time to get back to Strasbourg so that our architect and landscape architect could get their last train back to Colmar. More beer… I think I made a record for myself, but actually probably not. (Of course, Bertrand, the driver, had lemonade.)
I forgot to mention that we passed through the birthplace of the Statue of Liberty on our way to les Vosges the previous day. They have a small version of her on the main traffic circle as you pass through town. My companions that day were excited for me to see her there. Have you noticed that she has kind of a stern expression?
It has been raining off and on all day, and now my mother and I are hoping it will stay clear long enough for us to take a short bike ride to a nearby town. Our angel of a neighbor gave us a colorful bouquet from her garden. (My mother wondered if we ask to have tomatoes instead, but I advised against it.) The roads here are lined with hollyhocks.
I think that brings me almost up to date. I finished reading Le Divorce last night. But, I will discuss it in another blog.
1) To drink some water (you will recall that it was quite hot) and
2) To explore that city center.
On our way towards the city center we passed a huge supermarket and sought drinking water inside. It had multiple floors that were connected not by elevators or escalators, but by long, moving ramps so that shoppers could take their cart from floor to floor in great masses. The guys were going to get just one water, but I insisted on a second, which Bertrand ended up hogging :-). We continued our trek towards the center (not far, and on the way back to the parking garage where we left the car). However, it required the use of several pedestrian overpasses above major roadways (implying that cars are more important than people).
I don’t know why Tubingen is not a major tourist destination. Maybe it is better as another hidden treasure. The historic center is lovely. People road boats along the river lined with beautiful, densely-packed buildings. Alongside one part of the river is a pedestrian walkway and another has a beer garden. The riverbank, the city, has a steep incline, and the transportation network in this area includes a number of small pedestrian paths with stairways between roads that could squeeze in a car. The town square, also on a bit of a slope a block or two to the river, is like other town squares I have seen in Europe, as pretty as the prettiest. Of course, the bridges over the river are old and stone, and because this is Germany, lined with flower boxes. In fact, flowers are everywhere.
We made a small loop through the center, and then settled down at the beer garden since we had about an hour before having to leave in time to get back to Strasbourg so that our architect and landscape architect could get their last train back to Colmar. More beer… I think I made a record for myself, but actually probably not. (Of course, Bertrand, the driver, had lemonade.)
I forgot to mention that we passed through the birthplace of the Statue of Liberty on our way to les Vosges the previous day. They have a small version of her on the main traffic circle as you pass through town. My companions that day were excited for me to see her there. Have you noticed that she has kind of a stern expression?
It has been raining off and on all day, and now my mother and I are hoping it will stay clear long enough for us to take a short bike ride to a nearby town. Our angel of a neighbor gave us a colorful bouquet from her garden. (My mother wondered if we ask to have tomatoes instead, but I advised against it.) The roads here are lined with hollyhocks.
I think that brings me almost up to date. I finished reading Le Divorce last night. But, I will discuss it in another blog.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
[La Vienne] News
We had a lovely day today, despite 30 minutes of hail in the afternoon. Mom and I biked to a nearby town (John met us with the car; he has been very sick) and had a lovely lunch of salad, quail and mushrooms, some orange potato thing, (we refused the obligatory cheese) chocolate desert, wine and coffee. The roads over were long and straight with a fierce headwind. Cows, corn, sunflowers (dead), and grass fields defined the roads boundaries. The landscape here is rather flat in a sort of rolling hill type of way. I road back alone because 1) I try not to get in a car every day even in rural France, 2) my mother was too tired to ride any more (dizzy, made me a bit scared), and 3) the road was the hypotenuse, shorter and straighter than the way we came.
I am going to Mallorca on Monday for a week to see Juliette and the rest of the Bousseau family. The change of scenery will do me good. I don't think La Vienne has long term potential for me -- not enough going on. Or maybe I haven't sought it out enough.
For those of you keeping track, Kevin has broken up with me again, and I am not going to fight it this time.
When I left my job, I told my boss my parents needed help with their business in here. If anyone is interested, I have been working my ass of (tho it is not worth describing in these blogs). I was telling the truth (even if it was only true for a short period of time).
I have been trying to find a French language school in Paris. This has also taken up a good bit of my time.
One more short blog on Tubingen to go....
I am going to Mallorca on Monday for a week to see Juliette and the rest of the Bousseau family. The change of scenery will do me good. I don't think La Vienne has long term potential for me -- not enough going on. Or maybe I haven't sought it out enough.
For those of you keeping track, Kevin has broken up with me again, and I am not going to fight it this time.
When I left my job, I told my boss my parents needed help with their business in here. If anyone is interested, I have been working my ass of (tho it is not worth describing in these blogs). I was telling the truth (even if it was only true for a short period of time).
I have been trying to find a French language school in Paris. This has also taken up a good bit of my time.
One more short blog on Tubingen to go....
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
[La Vienne]Tubingen part 1
This morning (now yesterday) I woke up to another huge storm. The sky was so black it took me a long time to realize it was actually morning. Once again, the laundry was outside, but fortunately my mother had brought some of it in before it started raining very hard. Now it seems to have cleared up a little, and later it will probably be beautiful.
My mother wants to have a party tonight. I completely can’t understand this because the house is a mess and John has been sick in bed all day. Tomorrow we had planned to head to Brittany, but there are still so many things up in the air including our motivation. For one thing, my French sister, Juliette, is insisting that I come to Mallorca with her and another of her girlfriends as sort of a girls-get-away. So, I am considering that, and looking to the transportation options (ferry? flight? From where and when?). But the bottom line is that we don’t know what we are doing.
More than a week ago, Bertrand, 2 of his former coworkers (an architect and a landscape architect whose names I don’t think I ever caught), and myself went to Tubingen to see their sustainable developments. Like in Freiburg, they are former military barracks (formerly one of the largest in Germany). Like in Freiburg, it is a university town (the university was founded in 1477). This area was separated from the rest of the city by a highway, but includes basic infrastructure needed for an independent city. When the military closed their base here in 1991, the city used it as an opportunity to create an urban, small-parceled, mixed-use community.
The parcels are of various sizes, and a group who form a co-op purchases each one. An advantage to the various sizes is that they can accommodate groups with various levels of resources, thus creating a mixed-income neighborhood. The units cost about 2,000 euros per square meter inclusive and the land costs 500 euros per square meter. Public housing (or social housing, as they seem to call it) is designated for the center of this linear development, but has not yet been developed. In fact, the development process is design to create a community that includes families, seniors, non-German citizens, people with mental and physical disabilities, students and other groups. A different architect designing each building creates a diverse texture. Zone code includes a basic skeleton (height and bulk minimums and maximums, general outline, etc.). Between the buildings is a pedestrianized center designed through a community-involvement process. In fact, the entire planning process is designed to be “transparent”.
The city dedicated 15 million euros, generated by the sale of lots (they purchased the land from the military, repackaged and planned it, and the sold it to the individual co-ops), to community services including kindergartens, day-care facilities, other schools and community facilities. One of the zoning requirements is ground floor retail; however, they haven’t had much luck sustaining them. I noticed that many businesses here are architects, designers, printers and the like, whereas I think what the planners really had in mind was services for the community. Compared with other parts of Tubingen, the development is high-density, thus shortening distances to community needs.
We saw lots of children playing in the common areas. The neighborhood’s material states that the common space is designed first as “communicative spaces” and only secondly as part of the traffic network. Cars are not permitted in these areas.
Our tour began with a meeting with a city employee who works on the development. She very generously spent about an hour explaining it all to us (in German, which Bertrand then very generously translated in to French AND English. By the end of the interview, I was embarrassed by my limited language skills and acceptance of Bertrand’s generous translations.)
I know you are dying to hear more about the parking facilities. As I understand it, they are of the sophisticated stacking variety provided at one space per unit but are rarely used (65 euros/month; they think this is expensive). Residents have actually gotten stuck inside them, unable to get out. So far, the community doesn’t like them and prefers to park illegally in adjacent neighborhoods. Bertrand asked about car sharing, but apparently there hasn’t been much interest in it here.
Also, their utilities… all buildings are required to be on the heating grid unless they use some other variety of renewable/sustainable energy sources like solar.
We wandered about this neighborhood for several hours (getting over-heated and working up an appetite). Most buildings had balconies, the common areas young trees and play areas and “learning” facilities. Some of the more beautiful buildings flowed over with greens: flowers, vines, small trees. Historic buildings were tastefully and practically restored, contributing nicely to the variety of urban texture.
Our local gov’t friend recommended a nearby café, where we finally went to lunch near the end of the designed lunch period (lunch ends at 2 PM in Europe). It was a lovely beer garden, and we sat under and old tree at a picnic table. I believe it was our architect who started it, but by the end of the lunch, we had all consumed a liter of beer in addition to our food. The beer was good, the food OK.
After lunch, we walked over to another, older neighborhood of the same type. These buildings were more settled into the ground, painted lively colors, with grown trees, vines, shrubs and vegetable gardens. Again, many children played in the street. A couple dozen people waited for the bus, and as soon as I took a picture of them, the bus came and picked them up. (You can imagine my concern that maybe the transit system isn’t reliable.) The neighborhood included a huge old shelter for storing tanks, now for children to play ball (probably particularly useful in the rain but also on sunny days like this one). There was a certain odd flavor to me, maybe it is Germany, of the changing uses of this space. Let me know if you think of a better way to articulate this….
Behind the older development is another “squat” of mobile homes. I think we all agreed that it was incredibly beautiful on this perfect afternoon. The organic, humble-jumble, unplanned community of mobile homes seemed to work harmoniously together in a sort of half-agricultural (we saw farm animals, but I don’t think everyone who lives there has one), half-derelict kind of way. Maybe this is a modern version of our thousand-year-old European villages.
A special moment for all of us was, I think, when we put our heads under this fountain in one of the central courtyards. You will see the pictures, but I will tell you now that it felt pretty good.
My mother wants to have a party tonight. I completely can’t understand this because the house is a mess and John has been sick in bed all day. Tomorrow we had planned to head to Brittany, but there are still so many things up in the air including our motivation. For one thing, my French sister, Juliette, is insisting that I come to Mallorca with her and another of her girlfriends as sort of a girls-get-away. So, I am considering that, and looking to the transportation options (ferry? flight? From where and when?). But the bottom line is that we don’t know what we are doing.
More than a week ago, Bertrand, 2 of his former coworkers (an architect and a landscape architect whose names I don’t think I ever caught), and myself went to Tubingen to see their sustainable developments. Like in Freiburg, they are former military barracks (formerly one of the largest in Germany). Like in Freiburg, it is a university town (the university was founded in 1477). This area was separated from the rest of the city by a highway, but includes basic infrastructure needed for an independent city. When the military closed their base here in 1991, the city used it as an opportunity to create an urban, small-parceled, mixed-use community.
The parcels are of various sizes, and a group who form a co-op purchases each one. An advantage to the various sizes is that they can accommodate groups with various levels of resources, thus creating a mixed-income neighborhood. The units cost about 2,000 euros per square meter inclusive and the land costs 500 euros per square meter. Public housing (or social housing, as they seem to call it) is designated for the center of this linear development, but has not yet been developed. In fact, the development process is design to create a community that includes families, seniors, non-German citizens, people with mental and physical disabilities, students and other groups. A different architect designing each building creates a diverse texture. Zone code includes a basic skeleton (height and bulk minimums and maximums, general outline, etc.). Between the buildings is a pedestrianized center designed through a community-involvement process. In fact, the entire planning process is designed to be “transparent”.
The city dedicated 15 million euros, generated by the sale of lots (they purchased the land from the military, repackaged and planned it, and the sold it to the individual co-ops), to community services including kindergartens, day-care facilities, other schools and community facilities. One of the zoning requirements is ground floor retail; however, they haven’t had much luck sustaining them. I noticed that many businesses here are architects, designers, printers and the like, whereas I think what the planners really had in mind was services for the community. Compared with other parts of Tubingen, the development is high-density, thus shortening distances to community needs.
We saw lots of children playing in the common areas. The neighborhood’s material states that the common space is designed first as “communicative spaces” and only secondly as part of the traffic network. Cars are not permitted in these areas.
Our tour began with a meeting with a city employee who works on the development. She very generously spent about an hour explaining it all to us (in German, which Bertrand then very generously translated in to French AND English. By the end of the interview, I was embarrassed by my limited language skills and acceptance of Bertrand’s generous translations.)
I know you are dying to hear more about the parking facilities. As I understand it, they are of the sophisticated stacking variety provided at one space per unit but are rarely used (65 euros/month; they think this is expensive). Residents have actually gotten stuck inside them, unable to get out. So far, the community doesn’t like them and prefers to park illegally in adjacent neighborhoods. Bertrand asked about car sharing, but apparently there hasn’t been much interest in it here.
Also, their utilities… all buildings are required to be on the heating grid unless they use some other variety of renewable/sustainable energy sources like solar.
We wandered about this neighborhood for several hours (getting over-heated and working up an appetite). Most buildings had balconies, the common areas young trees and play areas and “learning” facilities. Some of the more beautiful buildings flowed over with greens: flowers, vines, small trees. Historic buildings were tastefully and practically restored, contributing nicely to the variety of urban texture.
Our local gov’t friend recommended a nearby café, where we finally went to lunch near the end of the designed lunch period (lunch ends at 2 PM in Europe). It was a lovely beer garden, and we sat under and old tree at a picnic table. I believe it was our architect who started it, but by the end of the lunch, we had all consumed a liter of beer in addition to our food. The beer was good, the food OK.
After lunch, we walked over to another, older neighborhood of the same type. These buildings were more settled into the ground, painted lively colors, with grown trees, vines, shrubs and vegetable gardens. Again, many children played in the street. A couple dozen people waited for the bus, and as soon as I took a picture of them, the bus came and picked them up. (You can imagine my concern that maybe the transit system isn’t reliable.) The neighborhood included a huge old shelter for storing tanks, now for children to play ball (probably particularly useful in the rain but also on sunny days like this one). There was a certain odd flavor to me, maybe it is Germany, of the changing uses of this space. Let me know if you think of a better way to articulate this….
Behind the older development is another “squat” of mobile homes. I think we all agreed that it was incredibly beautiful on this perfect afternoon. The organic, humble-jumble, unplanned community of mobile homes seemed to work harmoniously together in a sort of half-agricultural (we saw farm animals, but I don’t think everyone who lives there has one), half-derelict kind of way. Maybe this is a modern version of our thousand-year-old European villages.
A special moment for all of us was, I think, when we put our heads under this fountain in one of the central courtyards. You will see the pictures, but I will tell you now that it felt pretty good.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
[La Vienne]Three things that stink
I am cursed with a very sensitive sense of smell. It makes me unhappy when I shouldn’t be and is probably associated with my allergies. The house in St. Pierre smells bad for three reasons that I can surmise:
1) Cars
Cars stink. You know it. I know it. It doesn’t matter if they are old or new. They stink. The problem with being in the country is that there is no way of getting around (I don’t mean to the bakery, which is, of course, walking distance; I mean to see your friends, go to nearby towns, the doctor except on Monday morning) without internal combustion. Sure, some cars smell worse than others. But all cars stink, and they should be widely restricted.
2) Sewage
You are going to think that I am making this up, but raw sewage is running out the drain in front of the house. Usually it is just liquid and remnance of toilet paper, but sometimes human shit comes out. I kid you not. Our neighbors, a very cute older couple with whom we communicate in broken French, have called the Mayor about it. (My mother is so funny; she thinks the role of the mayor in a village like this is for more important things than raw sewage draining across the road and into the river. It is part of her general notion the important men can’t be bothered with the really important things – not the way she would put it, by the way.) It’s disgusting, and I try to keep the windows in front of the house closed, but I can smell it in the morning in my bedroom if it has been raining.
3) Dogs
I like dogs. I like people who like dogs. But you can always smell the smell of a house that has had dogs in unless the house and dogs are very well cared for (not the case here). Bella and Minou are good dogs, but I don’t think either of them has had a bath in their lives. The house has stone floors, and Bella is not allowed on most of the furniture, but house smells like dog. The corners smell like dog. The kitchen smells like dog. Dog is my copilot.
1) Cars
Cars stink. You know it. I know it. It doesn’t matter if they are old or new. They stink. The problem with being in the country is that there is no way of getting around (I don’t mean to the bakery, which is, of course, walking distance; I mean to see your friends, go to nearby towns, the doctor except on Monday morning) without internal combustion. Sure, some cars smell worse than others. But all cars stink, and they should be widely restricted.
2) Sewage
You are going to think that I am making this up, but raw sewage is running out the drain in front of the house. Usually it is just liquid and remnance of toilet paper, but sometimes human shit comes out. I kid you not. Our neighbors, a very cute older couple with whom we communicate in broken French, have called the Mayor about it. (My mother is so funny; she thinks the role of the mayor in a village like this is for more important things than raw sewage draining across the road and into the river. It is part of her general notion the important men can’t be bothered with the really important things – not the way she would put it, by the way.) It’s disgusting, and I try to keep the windows in front of the house closed, but I can smell it in the morning in my bedroom if it has been raining.
3) Dogs
I like dogs. I like people who like dogs. But you can always smell the smell of a house that has had dogs in unless the house and dogs are very well cared for (not the case here). Bella and Minou are good dogs, but I don’t think either of them has had a bath in their lives. The house has stone floors, and Bella is not allowed on most of the furniture, but house smells like dog. The corners smell like dog. The kitchen smells like dog. Dog is my copilot.
Monday, August 16, 2004
[La Vienne]Strasbourg and Les Vosges
Last night, we went to the Poiriers’ for dinner. Their home is truly magical – we sat in the garden for the first while enjoying the fading sun on their garden and the adjacent fields. The first course was pesto pasta, and Anne asked if I ever make it. Then she wondered if hers was as good as mine, and I told her it was (my grandmother is Italian). The meal, too, was an amazing work of art. The subject of Little Richard came up, so between dinner and desert we danced our heads off to oldies (from a record called “Roots of Rhythm”; Anne observed what a sorry place the US would be without African-Americans). I don’t know when I have ever danced like that with a group of my parents’ friends. It was super fun.
Yesterday was one of the first days since I have been here with no rain. However, the weather made up for it in the night with an outrageous and violent thunderstorm right over our heads. My bed has a metal frame, and I was careful none of me was touching it during the storm. We woke to the phone not working, but no other serious damage (other than my laundry which was almost dry when I went to sleep last night; darn it!).
Now back to catching up…. Last Saturday in Strasbourg, Bertrand wanted to work. But first, in the morning, we went to the farmers’ market and then a grocery store to get some food. He got some beautiful peaches. It was a natural food store; we discussed the importance of where you spend your money.
As a brief aside, my parents don’t seem to subscribe to this sort of thinking. They claim very progressive politics, and yet prefer to get their food at the European equivalent of Costco (a German store, LIDL, Bertrand says about them: "I never buy anything there, because they deliberately and consistently try to reduce the number of employees at the lowest possible level in order to reduce costs. And
they're proud of it and claim it. I don't trust what they're selling
either, they only care about the price. They just should be banned from
everywhere."). My mother says, “I would rather spend my money on Bali Children’s Project”. I don’t think she realizes that the global implications of her shopping decisions cost her and the Bali Children’s Project, much more than she knows.
After lunch, he had arranged for me to go the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art with his nephew, Gwen, and friends (an American girl named Leila, I think, and another French boy, Sebastian). We were particularly interested in an exhibit of works of a famous French cartoonist, who seemed to mostly draw images with sexual content that were very creative but I couldn’t quite relate to. I did enjoy a video (cartoon, no words) about a small village that is taken over by l’escargot. I stayed to see the remainder of the museum while they went for some food. They had some nice pieces in the modern section, particularly a Delanay (sp? whose work I really like despite the fact that he was a fascist) and some post-impressionists whose names I have forgotten. I couldn’t really relate to the contemporary collection. I met up with the group again in front of the cathedral and we tried to shop (it was the end of the sales) but no luck. They are all art students.
In the evening, Bertrand wanted to see a film. We selected Mystic River (with French subtitles, of course, which, incidentally, sometimes helped me understand what they were saying) because it was playing in the nicer theater with a balcony. I resented the conservative vision of what is a family portrayed in the film: these children murdered this girl ostensibly because they didn’t have a father; their father had been murdered by the father of the girl they murdered for turning him in years before. But, of course, lots of children grow up without fathers and don’t end up murdering people. Otherwise, I would say that it is a really good movie.
Sunday, we (Bertrand, Gwen, Sebastian, and I) got up early to hike Les Vosges (which was particularly difficult since we had been up late talking about the movie and such). Bertrand says that the area to the south is the most beautiful (more diverse topography), so that is where we went. The hike began with a long descent through a lush forest littered with tall purple foxgloves. Bertrand says they are native to the area. He wanted to hike quite a bit further (2 hours?) than we ended up doing, to a lake, but the rest of us revolted. The returning crest was covered with cows eating grass with large bells attached to their necks with leather belts. It was really quite an experience at the top of the mountain, rolling green hills surrounded by low forests, a cool breeze blowing through the humid air, the sun beating down, and the cacophony of 25+ cow bells ringing at irregular rhythms. I would like to go back up there and film it, but I am not certain what the purpose would be. Maybe some kind of post-post-modern music video.
Humidity doesn’t really agree with me (I am a Californian after all), and maybe I’m a bit out of shape. So, I was probably annoyingly slow esp. on the ascents. The hike was exhausting, and one of the best experiences of my trip so far. When we got back home, we had tea and marzipan on the balcony.
I am worried that these blogs are getting a bit disjointed. Meanwhile, I still have one more day to tell you about before being completely caught up. I’ll do it tomorrow. So, I don’t know, this too will pass….
Yesterday was one of the first days since I have been here with no rain. However, the weather made up for it in the night with an outrageous and violent thunderstorm right over our heads. My bed has a metal frame, and I was careful none of me was touching it during the storm. We woke to the phone not working, but no other serious damage (other than my laundry which was almost dry when I went to sleep last night; darn it!).
Now back to catching up…. Last Saturday in Strasbourg, Bertrand wanted to work. But first, in the morning, we went to the farmers’ market and then a grocery store to get some food. He got some beautiful peaches. It was a natural food store; we discussed the importance of where you spend your money.
As a brief aside, my parents don’t seem to subscribe to this sort of thinking. They claim very progressive politics, and yet prefer to get their food at the European equivalent of Costco (a German store, LIDL, Bertrand says about them: "I never buy anything there, because they deliberately and consistently try to reduce the number of employees at the lowest possible level in order to reduce costs. And
they're proud of it and claim it. I don't trust what they're selling
either, they only care about the price. They just should be banned from
everywhere."). My mother says, “I would rather spend my money on Bali Children’s Project”. I don’t think she realizes that the global implications of her shopping decisions cost her and the Bali Children’s Project, much more than she knows.
After lunch, he had arranged for me to go the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art with his nephew, Gwen, and friends (an American girl named Leila, I think, and another French boy, Sebastian). We were particularly interested in an exhibit of works of a famous French cartoonist, who seemed to mostly draw images with sexual content that were very creative but I couldn’t quite relate to. I did enjoy a video (cartoon, no words) about a small village that is taken over by l’escargot. I stayed to see the remainder of the museum while they went for some food. They had some nice pieces in the modern section, particularly a Delanay (sp? whose work I really like despite the fact that he was a fascist) and some post-impressionists whose names I have forgotten. I couldn’t really relate to the contemporary collection. I met up with the group again in front of the cathedral and we tried to shop (it was the end of the sales) but no luck. They are all art students.
In the evening, Bertrand wanted to see a film. We selected Mystic River (with French subtitles, of course, which, incidentally, sometimes helped me understand what they were saying) because it was playing in the nicer theater with a balcony. I resented the conservative vision of what is a family portrayed in the film: these children murdered this girl ostensibly because they didn’t have a father; their father had been murdered by the father of the girl they murdered for turning him in years before. But, of course, lots of children grow up without fathers and don’t end up murdering people. Otherwise, I would say that it is a really good movie.
Sunday, we (Bertrand, Gwen, Sebastian, and I) got up early to hike Les Vosges (which was particularly difficult since we had been up late talking about the movie and such). Bertrand says that the area to the south is the most beautiful (more diverse topography), so that is where we went. The hike began with a long descent through a lush forest littered with tall purple foxgloves. Bertrand says they are native to the area. He wanted to hike quite a bit further (2 hours?) than we ended up doing, to a lake, but the rest of us revolted. The returning crest was covered with cows eating grass with large bells attached to their necks with leather belts. It was really quite an experience at the top of the mountain, rolling green hills surrounded by low forests, a cool breeze blowing through the humid air, the sun beating down, and the cacophony of 25+ cow bells ringing at irregular rhythms. I would like to go back up there and film it, but I am not certain what the purpose would be. Maybe some kind of post-post-modern music video.
Humidity doesn’t really agree with me (I am a Californian after all), and maybe I’m a bit out of shape. So, I was probably annoyingly slow esp. on the ascents. The hike was exhausting, and one of the best experiences of my trip so far. When we got back home, we had tea and marzipan on the balcony.
I am worried that these blogs are getting a bit disjointed. Meanwhile, I still have one more day to tell you about before being completely caught up. I’ll do it tomorrow. So, I don’t know, this too will pass….
Freiburg part 1
As I mentioned earlier, I took the over night train from Krumlov to Freiburg. I chose Frieburg because several people at the conference recommended it for its progressive environmental policies including good bicycle facilities. What I didn’t know what that Bertrand has been giving tours of the sustainable development there as part of his work. I arrived at 9 AM and took a tour of the city center. I was very nice, but did not vary significantly from the many other nice European cities I have seen over the past few weeks. The only unusual feature is the little streams (about 1 foot wide and a shallow rectangle) that run along the pedestrian pathways presumably for drainage. (You’ll see the pictures if I can ever get to a computer fast enough to upload them.) I stopped for a coffee (on my way to meet Bertrand in front of the train station at noon). While I tried to hide it, it quickly became clear at I am from the US. The man behind the counter didn’t speak English but one of the other customers did. “An American in Freiburg? Are you a student? Why would you come to Freiburg?” I didn’t bother to explain to him just shrugged.
Bertrand and I met at the station without a hitch. Nearby, there is a large bicycle parking structure (several stories) that also includes carsharing, bike-sharing, café and bike shop. There is a pedestrian and bicycle bridge overpass of good quality leading to the garage. Another overpass (over the major train lines) carries many tramlines serving the city. It’s pretty much everything you would need for a multimodal transportation hub.
I had left my bags in a very sophisticated left luggage apparatus, completely automated, where you pay, insert your luggage into the case, and get a ticket when the machine takes it away. Then, you use your same ticket to tell the machine to bring your particular bags back to you. Bertrand pointed out that he had seen similar systems for efficient storage of cars. More on this later (Tubingen).
We had a small adventure trying to find this center for solar research where Bertrand had to drop something off. (It reminded me of a similar adventure with Matt in Bangkok some of my readers may recall.) The office had relocated to a Solar Information Center on the outskirts of town (but Bertrand assured me that they have excellent public transportation despite the existence of parking). Getting into the building was one challenge and the finding the right office was another. After many twists and turns, we did in fact reach the intended individuals, but only after enlisting a lady with a nearby organization and gleaning all she knew about solar energy and her neighboring company (all in German, of course). So, that was fun.
By then we were hungry, and it was getting to the end of mealtime. We drove over to Vauban, the sustainable neighborhood he wanted to show me. There is a little hippy café (Susi) there where they were serving lunch very much like we had at the conference, played loud American music, and the walls were painted with murals (it is Germany afterall). It was noodles and rice and vegetarian curry. For desert we had “banana milk” with little flakes of chocolate unlike anything either of us had ever tried before.
First we looked at a group of new houses. An architect who specializes in buildings with low energy needs designed them. They are long rows of town houses, windows mostly to the south to absorb as much sunlight in winter as they can. Their rooves are covered with solar panels, and Bertrand says they actually produce more energy than they use. Each unit is painted a different bright color and about half are occupied (they are very expensive). So, the remainder of the area is being developed with cheaper, more traditional building structures, unfortunately. Along the main road dividing the neighborhood, they are in the process of developing a large building (the full length of the road through the neighborhood) that will house ground-floor retail, and I think parking above or maybe offices.
On the other side of the main road is a series of old military barracks. Originally, the city had some idea of what to do with them. As I understand it, people were already squatting in them, and told the city, no, this is going to be a sustainable community-planned neighborhood. The city cooperated, and the buildings were converted to co-ops. The residents got to decide what kinds of facilities to invest in (like wheelchair accessibility, an actual example) and how the common space would be designed. In general, they seem to have a lot of playgrounds for children. Throughout Europe, I see a lot of vegetable gardens. (I think American’s have some subconscious idea that if you grow your vegetables it means you can’t afford to buy them.)
[Continued in the next blog bc this internet connection is too slow the post the whole thing at once.]
Bertrand and I met at the station without a hitch. Nearby, there is a large bicycle parking structure (several stories) that also includes carsharing, bike-sharing, café and bike shop. There is a pedestrian and bicycle bridge overpass of good quality leading to the garage. Another overpass (over the major train lines) carries many tramlines serving the city. It’s pretty much everything you would need for a multimodal transportation hub.
I had left my bags in a very sophisticated left luggage apparatus, completely automated, where you pay, insert your luggage into the case, and get a ticket when the machine takes it away. Then, you use your same ticket to tell the machine to bring your particular bags back to you. Bertrand pointed out that he had seen similar systems for efficient storage of cars. More on this later (Tubingen).
We had a small adventure trying to find this center for solar research where Bertrand had to drop something off. (It reminded me of a similar adventure with Matt in Bangkok some of my readers may recall.) The office had relocated to a Solar Information Center on the outskirts of town (but Bertrand assured me that they have excellent public transportation despite the existence of parking). Getting into the building was one challenge and the finding the right office was another. After many twists and turns, we did in fact reach the intended individuals, but only after enlisting a lady with a nearby organization and gleaning all she knew about solar energy and her neighboring company (all in German, of course). So, that was fun.
By then we were hungry, and it was getting to the end of mealtime. We drove over to Vauban, the sustainable neighborhood he wanted to show me. There is a little hippy café (Susi) there where they were serving lunch very much like we had at the conference, played loud American music, and the walls were painted with murals (it is Germany afterall). It was noodles and rice and vegetarian curry. For desert we had “banana milk” with little flakes of chocolate unlike anything either of us had ever tried before.
First we looked at a group of new houses. An architect who specializes in buildings with low energy needs designed them. They are long rows of town houses, windows mostly to the south to absorb as much sunlight in winter as they can. Their rooves are covered with solar panels, and Bertrand says they actually produce more energy than they use. Each unit is painted a different bright color and about half are occupied (they are very expensive). So, the remainder of the area is being developed with cheaper, more traditional building structures, unfortunately. Along the main road dividing the neighborhood, they are in the process of developing a large building (the full length of the road through the neighborhood) that will house ground-floor retail, and I think parking above or maybe offices.
On the other side of the main road is a series of old military barracks. Originally, the city had some idea of what to do with them. As I understand it, people were already squatting in them, and told the city, no, this is going to be a sustainable community-planned neighborhood. The city cooperated, and the buildings were converted to co-ops. The residents got to decide what kinds of facilities to invest in (like wheelchair accessibility, an actual example) and how the common space would be designed. In general, they seem to have a lot of playgrounds for children. Throughout Europe, I see a lot of vegetable gardens. (I think American’s have some subconscious idea that if you grow your vegetables it means you can’t afford to buy them.)
[Continued in the next blog bc this internet connection is too slow the post the whole thing at once.]
Freiburg part 2
[Continued from previous post due to slow internet connection.]
Along one side of the neighborhood is a series of people living out of mobile homes along a long drive. They stay for one to three years, says Bertrand, and everyone believes they have a right to be there. To be perfectly honest, I found this strip rather unsightly.
The city is in the process of installing a tramline down the center of the neighborhood, and lots of people ride bicycles (it is Europe after all). There are several community buildings in the neighborhood with bike shops, cafes, childcare centers, and other community facilities.
From my transportation perspective, the most interesting part of the neighborhood was the parking arrangement. The city is concerned about providing sufficient parking, of course. There is no parking in front of the units. Instead, all parking is provided in a centralized parking structure. Residents pay 18,000 euros to buy a space in this garage if they have a car. Every year, the city requires every resident in every unit to sign a document stating if they have a car or not. If they have a car, they are required to buy a parking space in the garage. If they don’t have a car, they still have to pay for their potential future ownership of a car, but only 4,000 euros. The city has invested this money in some additional land at the back end of the neighborhood (near the main railroad tracks and the for-profit development, the worst land) where they may put a parking garage in the future if there is need for one. But for now, it is a park. There is a fire circle and a growing structure made out of trees (willows, I think, placed back into the ground and weaved together to form a dome; it is still filling in).
We saw children playing on most streets (they can, of course, because people don’t drive cars on these streets), bicycles left in front of buildings, and happy people chatting with their neighbors. This, I think, must be Democracy.
Bertrand also showed me the house of the architect who designed the buildings I talked about in the beginning. It is large and round, and rotates towards or away from the sun depending on the season and the temperature of the house. It has solar panels, and is intended to put more power back on the grid than it uses. Again, the house is very expensive to build; so, this is the only one.
I wonder if anyone has analyzed the cost of these energy-efficient houses vs. the on-going energy savings. I guess the real solution would be to compare the energy costs of the energy-efficient houses with the traditionally-constructed ones next to them once they are all inhabited. The only constraint here I can imagine is that the people who choose to live in energy-efficient houses may be more conscientious about their energy use than those who choose the “traditional” homes. Since this is a large purpose of the development, I trust someone else is taking care of this kind of thing. They don’t need non-German-speaking me.
Bertrand had another development he wanted to show me, and then he wanted to get some food or drink in the city center. But, you will recall, I was on the train all night. So, I insisted on being taken home (Bertrand’s home that is). I think Bertrand just generally has more energy than I do.
In any case, he took me back to Strasbourg to his lovely art deco apartment about 5 minutes from the center. I took a shower (really just a hose of warm water over a bath tub) and sat down for about 5 minutes before feeling mostly refreshed. After a light supper of salad (and amazing tomatoes, all from his CSA vegetable box), we walked around the city center. Strasbourg’s center is basically an island. The river forms a complete circle around the historic center. We encountered a light show for tourists along the way (several were going on simulatiously, kind of hokey), but the real highlight was just the city lights dancing off the river’s surface below tall, tightly-knit fairy-tale architecture.
Well, you are going to kill me (actually no, I am going to kill myself, because you don’t have to read all this but I feel obligated to write it), but that is the first of 5 fascinating days with Bertrand. I have a lot of work to do.
Along one side of the neighborhood is a series of people living out of mobile homes along a long drive. They stay for one to three years, says Bertrand, and everyone believes they have a right to be there. To be perfectly honest, I found this strip rather unsightly.
The city is in the process of installing a tramline down the center of the neighborhood, and lots of people ride bicycles (it is Europe after all). There are several community buildings in the neighborhood with bike shops, cafes, childcare centers, and other community facilities.
From my transportation perspective, the most interesting part of the neighborhood was the parking arrangement. The city is concerned about providing sufficient parking, of course. There is no parking in front of the units. Instead, all parking is provided in a centralized parking structure. Residents pay 18,000 euros to buy a space in this garage if they have a car. Every year, the city requires every resident in every unit to sign a document stating if they have a car or not. If they have a car, they are required to buy a parking space in the garage. If they don’t have a car, they still have to pay for their potential future ownership of a car, but only 4,000 euros. The city has invested this money in some additional land at the back end of the neighborhood (near the main railroad tracks and the for-profit development, the worst land) where they may put a parking garage in the future if there is need for one. But for now, it is a park. There is a fire circle and a growing structure made out of trees (willows, I think, placed back into the ground and weaved together to form a dome; it is still filling in).
We saw children playing on most streets (they can, of course, because people don’t drive cars on these streets), bicycles left in front of buildings, and happy people chatting with their neighbors. This, I think, must be Democracy.
Bertrand also showed me the house of the architect who designed the buildings I talked about in the beginning. It is large and round, and rotates towards or away from the sun depending on the season and the temperature of the house. It has solar panels, and is intended to put more power back on the grid than it uses. Again, the house is very expensive to build; so, this is the only one.
I wonder if anyone has analyzed the cost of these energy-efficient houses vs. the on-going energy savings. I guess the real solution would be to compare the energy costs of the energy-efficient houses with the traditionally-constructed ones next to them once they are all inhabited. The only constraint here I can imagine is that the people who choose to live in energy-efficient houses may be more conscientious about their energy use than those who choose the “traditional” homes. Since this is a large purpose of the development, I trust someone else is taking care of this kind of thing. They don’t need non-German-speaking me.
Bertrand had another development he wanted to show me, and then he wanted to get some food or drink in the city center. But, you will recall, I was on the train all night. So, I insisted on being taken home (Bertrand’s home that is). I think Bertrand just generally has more energy than I do.
In any case, he took me back to Strasbourg to his lovely art deco apartment about 5 minutes from the center. I took a shower (really just a hose of warm water over a bath tub) and sat down for about 5 minutes before feeling mostly refreshed. After a light supper of salad (and amazing tomatoes, all from his CSA vegetable box), we walked around the city center. Strasbourg’s center is basically an island. The river forms a complete circle around the historic center. We encountered a light show for tourists along the way (several were going on simulatiously, kind of hokey), but the real highlight was just the city lights dancing off the river’s surface below tall, tightly-knit fairy-tale architecture.
Well, you are going to kill me (actually no, I am going to kill myself, because you don’t have to read all this but I feel obligated to write it), but that is the first of 5 fascinating days with Bertrand. I have a lot of work to do.
A horse of La Vienne
Days here are filled with eating, napping, walking around the village or visiting friends nearby. Today I took a long walk starting down a nearby alley where there is a beautiful black horse. The first few times I met him, he ignored me. I tried to use a coxing tone to bring him near so I could pet his nose, but he refused. I tried again the next day after a few kirs, a soft tone in French (I am able to speak a little French when I drink or, once years ago, after I hit my head falling off a bicycle). This time he responded to being told he is “beau” and “fort”. I was permitted to pet his neck and face. I think once my French is a little better, he may let me pet his nose.
I happened upon a bicycle race (I think my first one). I was amazed at the power and force with which the cyclists flew by making only a whooshing sound. Of course, it is always nice to see strong boys in those outfits. I was impressed.
Last night, my parent’s friends Katriona and Orley dropped in (at about 3 AM) driving between their Tuscan and London houses. This morning the town was all a buzz as it is having a brocante (basically a town-wide flea market that happens once a year in each town). Music played, the merry-go-round went round, and kitsch mugs featuring Joan of Arch are offered for 100 euros. We ate croissant and coffee/tea. Orley does work sort of like mine, and we discussed our various projects and ideas for the future.
But we all have work we should be doing, and sometimes we make a little effort to do it. My next project is to describe my days leading up to arriving here, when I stayed with Bertrand in Strasbourg.
I happened upon a bicycle race (I think my first one). I was amazed at the power and force with which the cyclists flew by making only a whooshing sound. Of course, it is always nice to see strong boys in those outfits. I was impressed.
Last night, my parent’s friends Katriona and Orley dropped in (at about 3 AM) driving between their Tuscan and London houses. This morning the town was all a buzz as it is having a brocante (basically a town-wide flea market that happens once a year in each town). Music played, the merry-go-round went round, and kitsch mugs featuring Joan of Arch are offered for 100 euros. We ate croissant and coffee/tea. Orley does work sort of like mine, and we discussed our various projects and ideas for the future.
But we all have work we should be doing, and sometimes we make a little effort to do it. My next project is to describe my days leading up to arriving here, when I stayed with Bertrand in Strasbourg.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Finally putting down my bags in La Vienne
Well, I just wrote this long beautiful blog and the computer lost it…. Here is my second attempt:
After many wonderful adventures, I have finally arrived in La Vienne, where my mother and John’s house is in the small town of Saint-Pierre-de-Maillé. See pictures of the house at http://www.hidden-worlds.com/text/grange_au_dimes1.html. It is very beautiful, but, as I should have expected, filled with dog hair. I am slowly cleaning it, but only out of absolute necessity. I think my parents just don’t see it anymore….
They have 2 dogs: little dog and big dog. Big dog (Bella) is a native Californian who they brought over for an exorbitant fee, and they found they could not afford to bring back. She is a tall yellow lab mix. Little dog (Minou, means small and cute in French) is a slightly darker shade of sand. She used to live alone in a shack down the road and cry at night out of loneliness disturbing my parents' sleep. Since my mother’s heart permanently belongs to small dogs like little dog (who reminds her of her old dog Trixie), my mother offered to buy little dog. Her owner refused. Some time passed, and my mother decided to take the issue a bit more seriously. She took the dog, informing her owner of this action. The owner had no choice, but he agreed as long as little dog was available to hunt on Sundays at 7 AM every week. So, John regularly delivered little dog for the purpose of hunting anything small enough for her to scare (not much, by the way). And after a while little dog’s former owner stopped requiring her services, and little dog has lived here, in the lap of luxury, ever since.
I encountered another small sand-colored dog at the Poiriers’, where I spent this afternoon with Anne (the mother of my highschool sweetheart). Lilie was purchase shortly after my mother got Bella, because Anne was jealous of my mother and her new puppy. Lilie is a great snuggler, only requiring a little bit of encouragement. (The problem of snuggling with children has long bothered me. I want it. I think they want it. But we have to go through this whole ritual of getting to know each other through play before we can do it. I sometimes feel like am practicing some kind of deceit.)
The last time I visited this part of France, it was to see the Poiriers 12 years ago (although Julien and I had long broken up). Their home was beautiful then, but they have made it into a wonderful and complete work of art. I won’t bore you with a complete description of all the improvements, but I will describe for you a portrait they have of Anne’s great grandmother. She looks, of course, exactly like Anne. She was from French New Orleans, but the portrait displays San Francisco in its background. It is very beautiful, and I wish I had something like that from my family.
So, Anne and I spend the afternoon walking by the river and talking. She calls our last election a fascist coup d'etat. She lent me Le Divorce to read; says it is much better than the movie. For those who are wondering, I asked Bertrand about the misogynist divorce laws portrayed in the movie and he says they are not true (at least anymore). Anne also suggested I read Camus in French to re-start my study of the language.
I finished reading Toujour Provence on the train getting here. It is a pleasant little book about food and dogs. Anne says Peter Mayle now lives on Long Island; an idea I find very disturbing for some reason. I mentioned to Anne that I didn’t like the way Mayle refers to his French neighbors as peasants, and she said that that isn’t derogatory in this country. However, Mayle is English; so, he used the word with full awareness of its meaning to Engish-speaking people. I think it is a problem with direct translation from his conversational French. Similarly, every time I use the word “vibrant” in English to a native French speaker, they comment on its use. However, I think the meaning is clear by context. On the other hand, I wonder about that – if a word is clear by context, why do we bother saying it? In an ideal world of getting to the point, shouldn’t the meaning of every word be a surprise?
Now, my mother and John have gone off to have dinner with someone. I chose to stay at home ostensibly to clean, but really because I have a strong desire to do nothing. After a charming afternoon with Anne, I need to add a little more nothing to the soup of my day. I have many adventures to describe for you, but they will have to wait until another day. Bon Soir.
After many wonderful adventures, I have finally arrived in La Vienne, where my mother and John’s house is in the small town of Saint-Pierre-de-Maillé. See pictures of the house at http://www.hidden-worlds.com/text/grange_au_dimes1.html. It is very beautiful, but, as I should have expected, filled with dog hair. I am slowly cleaning it, but only out of absolute necessity. I think my parents just don’t see it anymore….
They have 2 dogs: little dog and big dog. Big dog (Bella) is a native Californian who they brought over for an exorbitant fee, and they found they could not afford to bring back. She is a tall yellow lab mix. Little dog (Minou, means small and cute in French) is a slightly darker shade of sand. She used to live alone in a shack down the road and cry at night out of loneliness disturbing my parents' sleep. Since my mother’s heart permanently belongs to small dogs like little dog (who reminds her of her old dog Trixie), my mother offered to buy little dog. Her owner refused. Some time passed, and my mother decided to take the issue a bit more seriously. She took the dog, informing her owner of this action. The owner had no choice, but he agreed as long as little dog was available to hunt on Sundays at 7 AM every week. So, John regularly delivered little dog for the purpose of hunting anything small enough for her to scare (not much, by the way). And after a while little dog’s former owner stopped requiring her services, and little dog has lived here, in the lap of luxury, ever since.
I encountered another small sand-colored dog at the Poiriers’, where I spent this afternoon with Anne (the mother of my highschool sweetheart). Lilie was purchase shortly after my mother got Bella, because Anne was jealous of my mother and her new puppy. Lilie is a great snuggler, only requiring a little bit of encouragement. (The problem of snuggling with children has long bothered me. I want it. I think they want it. But we have to go through this whole ritual of getting to know each other through play before we can do it. I sometimes feel like am practicing some kind of deceit.)
The last time I visited this part of France, it was to see the Poiriers 12 years ago (although Julien and I had long broken up). Their home was beautiful then, but they have made it into a wonderful and complete work of art. I won’t bore you with a complete description of all the improvements, but I will describe for you a portrait they have of Anne’s great grandmother. She looks, of course, exactly like Anne. She was from French New Orleans, but the portrait displays San Francisco in its background. It is very beautiful, and I wish I had something like that from my family.
So, Anne and I spend the afternoon walking by the river and talking. She calls our last election a fascist coup d'etat. She lent me Le Divorce to read; says it is much better than the movie. For those who are wondering, I asked Bertrand about the misogynist divorce laws portrayed in the movie and he says they are not true (at least anymore). Anne also suggested I read Camus in French to re-start my study of the language.
I finished reading Toujour Provence on the train getting here. It is a pleasant little book about food and dogs. Anne says Peter Mayle now lives on Long Island; an idea I find very disturbing for some reason. I mentioned to Anne that I didn’t like the way Mayle refers to his French neighbors as peasants, and she said that that isn’t derogatory in this country. However, Mayle is English; so, he used the word with full awareness of its meaning to Engish-speaking people. I think it is a problem with direct translation from his conversational French. Similarly, every time I use the word “vibrant” in English to a native French speaker, they comment on its use. However, I think the meaning is clear by context. On the other hand, I wonder about that – if a word is clear by context, why do we bother saying it? In an ideal world of getting to the point, shouldn’t the meaning of every word be a surprise?
Now, my mother and John have gone off to have dinner with someone. I chose to stay at home ostensibly to clean, but really because I have a strong desire to do nothing. After a charming afternoon with Anne, I need to add a little more nothing to the soup of my day. I have many adventures to describe for you, but they will have to wait until another day. Bon Soir.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Towards Carfree Cities Conference
For those of you who want more information on this conference I keep talking about, look here: http://www.worldcarfree.net
Some photos are shown here: http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos.php. One includes me: http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos/berlin-bike2.jpg. Another shows my host in Prague, Steve, who I keep talking about (and the back of my head too): http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos/berlin-bike.jpg.
I've said it before and I will say it again, we should ALL go next year. This is a great conference.
Some photos are shown here: http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos.php. One includes me: http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos/berlin-bike2.jpg. Another shows my host in Prague, Steve, who I keep talking about (and the back of my head too): http://www.worldcarfree.net/conference/photos/berlin-bike.jpg.
I've said it before and I will say it again, we should ALL go next year. This is a great conference.
Last day in Krumlov and some final words on Karlovy
I'm checked out of my hostel and basically ready to take the night train to Freiburg (via Zurich), one of Germany's leading eco-cities. Originally, I planned to spend a few days there and commute to Baden Baden for spa treatment. But Bertrand, a friend from the conference, will apparently be in Freiburg tomorrow anyway and has offered to pick me up, to entertain me, and his couch for me to sleep on. I feel very lucky with all the hospitality I have received from people I met at the conference.
During the past day or so I have been little other than wander around this lovely town. I wanted to make sure I explored every little winding street, and I believe i have covered the ones in the center at least. They are particularly nice in the evening when all the day trippers are gone but the light is still out and slanted against the tightly-packed buildings. I couldn't help but buy 10 postcards this morning, although I haven't seen very many interesting pictures to take myself. They do have a couple brown bears living in the castle mote who look pretty unhappy in the heat....
Last night my hostel provided a free keg of beer to its residents. I couldn't find my Aussie friends, so I hung out with my bunkmates instead. I would say 90% of my fellow travelers are Australian. Another thing I have noticed is that there are a lot of bone-skinny women travelers (not of any particular nationality). I see them eating and drinking beer, but for some reason their limbs could be confusing with those of a poster child on nutrician in Africa. On the other hand, almost no one is even lightly plump, which is good because weight tends to make people snore (yes, there have been one or 2), and we are all sharing a bedroom.
In Karlovy Vary, I was temporarily seduced by the privacy of my own room. I took an afternoon nap and woke thinking, "This is great. I am staying in this room forever." Later that evening the loneliness set in (exacerbated by the fact that I couldn't call home, no $ on the calling card, or get on a computer) and I wished I was in a hostel again. I mentioned the pedestrian ways throughout the city/parks in an earlier post, but I don't think I mentioned the complete lack of sidewalks. This isn't a serious issue, bc there aren't many cars in the town, but the ones that are there drive fast through the town. The paths are lines with extravagent begonias and impatients. As I headed out to dinner without my camera (it was re-charging), a huge red hot-air ballon, flame in center, rested in the sky next to the multicolored 19th-Century buildings. I ate my dinner in the park to silly american background music (a live Czech band at a nearby fancy hotel) and the smell of night jasmine wafting through the air.
My expensive room included breakfast from which I packed myself 2 huge sandwiches. So, that was cost-effective at least.
During the past day or so I have been little other than wander around this lovely town. I wanted to make sure I explored every little winding street, and I believe i have covered the ones in the center at least. They are particularly nice in the evening when all the day trippers are gone but the light is still out and slanted against the tightly-packed buildings. I couldn't help but buy 10 postcards this morning, although I haven't seen very many interesting pictures to take myself. They do have a couple brown bears living in the castle mote who look pretty unhappy in the heat....
Last night my hostel provided a free keg of beer to its residents. I couldn't find my Aussie friends, so I hung out with my bunkmates instead. I would say 90% of my fellow travelers are Australian. Another thing I have noticed is that there are a lot of bone-skinny women travelers (not of any particular nationality). I see them eating and drinking beer, but for some reason their limbs could be confusing with those of a poster child on nutrician in Africa. On the other hand, almost no one is even lightly plump, which is good because weight tends to make people snore (yes, there have been one or 2), and we are all sharing a bedroom.
In Karlovy Vary, I was temporarily seduced by the privacy of my own room. I took an afternoon nap and woke thinking, "This is great. I am staying in this room forever." Later that evening the loneliness set in (exacerbated by the fact that I couldn't call home, no $ on the calling card, or get on a computer) and I wished I was in a hostel again. I mentioned the pedestrian ways throughout the city/parks in an earlier post, but I don't think I mentioned the complete lack of sidewalks. This isn't a serious issue, bc there aren't many cars in the town, but the ones that are there drive fast through the town. The paths are lines with extravagent begonias and impatients. As I headed out to dinner without my camera (it was re-charging), a huge red hot-air ballon, flame in center, rested in the sky next to the multicolored 19th-Century buildings. I ate my dinner in the park to silly american background music (a live Czech band at a nearby fancy hotel) and the smell of night jasmine wafting through the air.
My expensive room included breakfast from which I packed myself 2 huge sandwiches. So, that was cost-effective at least.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
[Cesky Krumlov]Another day another trip down the river
Today we rented a raft to ride down the river to the next town. The river banks turned from terracotta and white to various shades of green quickly. We saw forests, huge rocks, fields, etc. Lovely. Somehow we thought there would be lots of places to stop along the way for beer, but there were only a few. We stopped once in a wide field for budweisser (note lower-case b; this is the home of the beer that the US company stole the name from). Literally hundreds of plastic bottles had found their resting places along the edges of the river in this otherwise pristine-looking landscape. This further confirms my new found dedicating to drinking tap water. (The dedication began because Maya pointed out that they transport all that water to sell with trucks, when there is perfectly good water running through the taps in every developed nation in the world.)
My companions along the river were 3 Aussie girls and 2 boys from Holland. I am certain that none of them is over 25, but I am trying not to think about it or bring up subjects to establish my age. I did notice last night when they discussed where they wanted to go for "unie" and what they thought about studying or where they thought about working. And I felt a little inadequate when all of us lay out in our bikinis; no, inadequate is not the word. I didn't so much feel that I was comparing myself to them as I was some kind of perverse fraud or observer who should not really have been there but was pretending to be something I was not while being exposed by my equipment. Speaking of misrepresentation, the issue of gun control came up, and they assumed that I am against it bc I am "American". It soon became clear that we all agree on the issue.
I still need to catch you up on my adventures in Karlovy, but that might have to wait for another day. The bottom line is that the swimming pool was worth the trip. It is a huge modern thing on the hillside overlooking the sweet historic town. You can literally look at the townscape as you do your laps. Unfortunately, there weren't many people in it doing laps -- just horse playing -- with a few swimming around them.
Mary had had a reservation at the same hostel that Steve had found for me (but was full), but they refused to honor it. It also turns out that the town was providing student accomodation. I am telling you this so that all may learn from my mistake: ask about cheap accomodation at the tourist information center whereever you go.
My companions along the river were 3 Aussie girls and 2 boys from Holland. I am certain that none of them is over 25, but I am trying not to think about it or bring up subjects to establish my age. I did notice last night when they discussed where they wanted to go for "unie" and what they thought about studying or where they thought about working. And I felt a little inadequate when all of us lay out in our bikinis; no, inadequate is not the word. I didn't so much feel that I was comparing myself to them as I was some kind of perverse fraud or observer who should not really have been there but was pretending to be something I was not while being exposed by my equipment. Speaking of misrepresentation, the issue of gun control came up, and they assumed that I am against it bc I am "American". It soon became clear that we all agree on the issue.
I still need to catch you up on my adventures in Karlovy, but that might have to wait for another day. The bottom line is that the swimming pool was worth the trip. It is a huge modern thing on the hillside overlooking the sweet historic town. You can literally look at the townscape as you do your laps. Unfortunately, there weren't many people in it doing laps -- just horse playing -- with a few swimming around them.
Mary had had a reservation at the same hostel that Steve had found for me (but was full), but they refused to honor it. It also turns out that the town was providing student accomodation. I am telling you this so that all may learn from my mistake: ask about cheap accomodation at the tourist information center whereever you go.
Monday, August 02, 2004
[Cesky Krumlov]"Getting in touch with my inner tube"
I steal DeAnne's famous line as the title of this blog. I met this cute little Aussie (Mary) on the bus over here, and we planned to meet up again for dinner tonight. But, I ran into her this afternoon, and we all (she, mates from her hostel, and me) agreed to go innertubing down the river this afternoon. The tubes were provided for free from her hostel. So, that's what we did. the city looked amazing from the water, altho the water looked incredibly dirty. Something that looked like a rock floated down the river with us most of the way. Styraphome (sp?), apple cores, and other bits of trash floated around too. Riding through the dams was loads of fun, altho I wimped out on the second one "because I didn't want to lose my hat."
My guidebook says that this is the prettiest town in Europe, and I believe it.
I keep thinking of things I haven't mentioned about past places. In Prague, pet dogs are welcome on all forms of public transit. Steve saw a large dog with a rat riding on his head on the tram. In addition to being an outragous sight, this reminded me of Kevin's nighttime stories about the dog and the chicken. Steve suggested Kevin write a series of children's books.
Speaking of public transit in Prague, I was very impressed by it. I was impressed by the idiot-proof nature of the metro. Not only are the lines color-coded, but so are the stations. Stations along the yellow line have yellow signs indicating themselves. In addition in the middle of each platform, there is a sign displaying all the line's routes on the line, where you are on it, and where you will be able to transfer to a line of another color. Steve, a representative resident and sample of 1, prefers the trams because the metro is too deep. He finds it hard to get to. The elevators move so fast it feels almost dangerous to me. But I wouldn't want it to take any longer to get down there. Back in 2002 they flooded, though they must be below the water table now. Steve says this an example of work under a communist government where there is no accountabiliy bc no one will be fired for poor work. You know I have mixed feelings about this statement.
Eddie, one of the Swiss guys I met at the conference, suggested the European companies run American transit systems. I thought this was brilliant.
Well, I've got to go meet those Aussies for dinner in a minute....
My guidebook says that this is the prettiest town in Europe, and I believe it.
I keep thinking of things I haven't mentioned about past places. In Prague, pet dogs are welcome on all forms of public transit. Steve saw a large dog with a rat riding on his head on the tram. In addition to being an outragous sight, this reminded me of Kevin's nighttime stories about the dog and the chicken. Steve suggested Kevin write a series of children's books.
Speaking of public transit in Prague, I was very impressed by it. I was impressed by the idiot-proof nature of the metro. Not only are the lines color-coded, but so are the stations. Stations along the yellow line have yellow signs indicating themselves. In addition in the middle of each platform, there is a sign displaying all the line's routes on the line, where you are on it, and where you will be able to transfer to a line of another color. Steve, a representative resident and sample of 1, prefers the trams because the metro is too deep. He finds it hard to get to. The elevators move so fast it feels almost dangerous to me. But I wouldn't want it to take any longer to get down there. Back in 2002 they flooded, though they must be below the water table now. Steve says this an example of work under a communist government where there is no accountabiliy bc no one will be fired for poor work. You know I have mixed feelings about this statement.
Eddie, one of the Swiss guys I met at the conference, suggested the European companies run American transit systems. I thought this was brilliant.
Well, I've got to go meet those Aussies for dinner in a minute....
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