So in case you haven't been following The Mollusk, you might have missed the Vin Table Francaîs (French Wine) he sent me to commemorate my safe return from my recent trip to France. Or, perhaps this is just something to keep the wine drinkers happy during the All American of All American sporting brouhaha events this coming weekend. Ahhhh, crack open another can, Jonathan. The aluminum, the sharp metallic tactile and taste on my lips. So smooth.... hey maybe this could be the French Wine Industry's answer to Two BuckChuck... thanks Jonathan!
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From time to time I invite friends, family and associates to contribute a 'guest blog' to The Digital Tavern. After traveling 1,000's kilometers with Bryan during our recent journey through the South of France, Bryan and I engaged in a number of conversations with regard to our experience abroad. While wine, food, beaches, service and art certainly were highlights of our experience we did lavish on some of the subtle and no so subtle cultural differences between living in the United States and living in Europe. I asked Bryan to blog a bit about the simple day-to-day things we do everyday in our lives: buy things, drive and measurement. I am pleased to post his comments here. Please post your comments and thoughts. Let's keep the dialog going!
How Much Will it Cost to Drive 30000 Meters (30 KM)?
So parking may be frustrating, retail hours are impossible to figure out and there are some main courses that I would rather leave in Provence. But there are three things that I came to admire and appreciate during my travels. Three things that made perfect sense - European money, European highways and European measurements.
The Euro is useful. Plain and simple. I found it extremely convenient to travel with the family from Venezia (Venice) to St Tropez, back to Toscana (Tuscany) and then to Saint Raphael to pick up Allan - all without making a single currency exchange. We won't discuss the conversion from US dollars to the Euro. Uggh.
Also, that 2 euro coin. What a stroke of genius! This coin is enormously useful in a world where almost every purchase exceeds a single primary denomination. Allan and I used the 2 euro coin for everything from tolls and parking meters to baguettes, pain de chocolat's and the occasional tip for service staff. Although the 1 dollar coin was introduced and re-introduced in the USA throughout the years about the only place that I have actually seen it in action in recent times is at Poor Red's in Diamond Springs. (This place, known for their Gold Cadillac's is rumored to be the largest purchaser of Galliano in the US and is also known for leaving change in Susan B. Anthony's. This is probably worth another blog).
My main attraction to the Euro coin is that it simply makes sense. There are denominations of 1 cent, 2 cents, 5 cents, 10 cents and 20 cents. These are the bronze coins and they increase in size as they increase in value. In addition there are 1 Euro and 2 Euro coins that are a primarily silver and also follow suit with regards to size. (By the way, who thought of the dime? Why is it smaller than the penny?).
Boy, did we take advantage of this. While driving from medieval village to medieval village Allan and I had the chance to visit approximately 34 automated tolls with differing toll amounts. You can only imagine our system of organizing the euro coins in the 307's storage compartment. Quick access - by touch rather than by sight.
On the subject of driving... While I was putting on nearly 4000 KM in the Peaugot 307 I had the opportunity to experience the famous European Autoroutes ad nauseam. Allan and I mainly traveled the A8 which took us parallel to the Cote d'Azur at speeds the exceeded 140 KM per hour. And to think that I was driving moderately slow in comparison to my Autoroute companions.
The primary attraction I have to the European major highways is that people follow rules. Sure, they may be driving at 200 KM per hour while other vehicles, especially the vast number of trucks, are moving at under 80 KM per hour. But they follow the rules. There are three things to remember:
If you are driving slow you should drive in the right lane
If you drive faster than the slower vehicles then most of your driving is conducted in the center lane; and
if you want to pass you move into the left lane and back. Simple, elegant.
What I find in the States is that there are no rules. Passing occurs at any time and in any direction. Dangerous. I have heard that traffic accidents are more frequent in France and Italy than almost anywhere else. However, I wonder if the statistics include collisions in the interior cities. If so, I can see why. Otherwise, the Autoroutes rule. Hands down.
Finally, I need to make a plug for the metric system. While on the A8 on the way back from Toulon Allan and I had a chance to discuss the advantages of a measurement system that makes sense. I could have easily dwelled on the negatives that night. Granted, I was the one behind the wheel while searching in earnest for a parking space that didn't exist. However, I couldn't help but admire the metric system while analyzing traffic signs that were my markers for our way home. Signs such as "Peage 1000m". In the United States, an equivalent sign would be "Toll Bridge XXXXXft". Absurd. We wouldn't know what to do. I mean, how many feet are in a mile? I wonder how many Americans can answer this question without going to the internet.
We covered lots of ground. Examples such as driving distances of meters compared to kilometers. We discussed ordering cold cuts in grams and fractions of kilograms. We discussed the fact that freezing was at 0 degrees. Not 32. Everything was making sense. We wondered why the metric system was dismantled in the US. This happened during my generation. I remember that they were trying to teach us this at a young age in elementary school and then all of a sudden the instruction came to an end. I always figured that it was because we were too stubborn to adhere to a new system of measurement. Now looking back Allan and I figure that it was most likely big business. The cost of converting to a new measurement system would certainly overrule the fact that it makes sense. Forget the long-term benefits. Go figure.
Now I am back to fumbling for dollar bills at toll bridges, dodging cars passing me on the right while still wondering how many feet are in a mile.
Bryan Roe
Guest Blogger and Honorary Italian Driver
Photos: Bryan Roe, Guest Blogger (top) Waiting for a fresh midnight kebab while contemplating the Euro currency strategy and benefits; (2) Pouring Provencal wine discussing toll payment strategies; (3) Washing his Euro Peugeot 307 thinking he should enter the Rallye Monte-Carlo 2004; (4) Making his point about the beauty of medieval villages; (5) Logging into his email despite the foreign keyboard layout in France's parking starved city of Toulon; (6) Suffering in San Tropez; 7) Walking the boardwalk in Nice; (bottom) Sometimes you gotta have a glass of Burgundy even though you're in Provence.
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The beauty of traveling virtually anywhere these days is the proliferation of the internet cafe. Whether you're in the middle of Bolivia, the remote towns of Tuscany or tiny villages of the French Riviera, chances are you're glance away from an internet cafe.
Most of the time when I'm traveling I bring my Apple PowerBook. Not sure why I choose to add the wait to my luggage and risk of theft, but it's my choice. Perhaps my security blanket. But it IS my choice.
But bringing your own computer into an internet cafe in Piensa Italy, for example, can be troublesome. Even though there's a switched hub within arms reach of a CAT 5 cable, when the guy running the cafe tells you it's impossible to connect to the internet without using one of his computers so he hands you a telephone cable and suggests dialing up, no amount of convincing will get you anywhere.
So there we were. Heading east on France's A-8 peage "freeway" in the early part of the evening. With a tad of insight that told us it would be tough to find an internet cafe open in St. Tropez or Saint-Raphael, we decided to take our chance and pull off the highway in Toulon, a larger city on the western tinge of the eastern Riviera. Bryan a bit nervous that we're dropping in on a busier town that we've never been -- wondering how the hell we'd find an internet cafe just "driving around". I assured him we'd find one, it would just take a little confidence and tenacity. Within 5 minutes of pulling off the A-8 I spotted an internet cafe. It looked open from the window of a moving car. I blurted, "there it is, let's park."
It's nearly 8PM at this point. We soon find ourselves i the dark and dingy narrow alleys of Toulon. And I mean dark. Shady looking store fronts with corrugated garage doors pulled up halfway to reveal transactions of who knows what going on. Then the sex shop. We find ourselves in the no-drive zone of Toulon. We find ourselves making circles and circles looking. We look. But we never really find a parking space. Then we spot a municipal lot. A flashing digital sign reads "complet." It doesn't take a French dictionary to understand that. And no matter how many times I pushed the green button hoping for a ticket and the gate to rise, it was a losing proposition.
We drove in the alleys again. Not a parking space. Frustration is building. Tempers are flaring. And this was going to be easy. At 9:00 we find another lot. But finding the cafe from this lot is another challenge. We wonder and spot another sign that says "Internet". We walk into a smokey bar where locals planted firmly in chairs with beers in one hand and cards in the other. Poker? There's not a computer we can see -- at least through the cloud of smoke in the room. People stare. We leave. Let's find the cafe I spotted.
We finally walk into the cafe at 9:30. An hour and a half dicking around Toulon. Ehhhhhhh. We have to pull the attendant off his headphones and away from his internet-based game he's so involved with. I ask the longtime question, he says there's no way I can plug my computer into his hub. It's OK. Just get me a seat so I can do my internet business.
Internet business on a French keyboard. You've got to use the shift key to use numbers. The "S', "W" and "M" and "period" keys are in wacky places. It's impossible to do anything fast without sounding like a moron through your email. But we're patient. If we can park in Toulon, we can deal with a French keyboard. Ah. Vive le France.
And we're loving it. More tomorrow....
Photo: Cheese shop in Saint-Raphael, France.
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>We set out for the western part of the Riviera. I've always wanted to see St. Tropez famous to me not only because of Bridget Bardot in And God Created Woman, but for a song on Pink Floyd's 1971 album Meddle:
As I reach for a peach
Slide a line down behind a sofa in San Tropez
Breaking a stick with a brick on the sand.
Riding a wave in the wake of an old sedan.
Sleeping alone in the drone of the darkness,
Scratched by the sand that fell from my love,
Deep in my dreams and I still hear her calling
"If you're alone, I'll come home."
Backward and home bound, the pigeon, the dove,
Gone with the wind and the rain, on an airplane.
Born in a home with no silver spoon,
I'm drinking champagne like a good tycoon.
Sooner than wait for a break in the weather,
I'll gather my far-flung thoughts together.
Speeding away on a wind to a new day.
And if you're alone I'll come home.
And I pause for a while by a country stile
And listen to the things they say.
Digging for gold in a hoe in my hand.
Open the book, take a look at the way things stand.
And you're leading me down to the place by the sea.
I hear your soft voice calling to me.
Making a date for later by phone
And if you're alone,I'll come home.
But the Saint Tropez (San Tropez) immortalized by Bardot in And God Created Woman showed it as a playground of sex, nudity, women and parties. The Saint Tropez I found on this cold January afternoon was far from the frolicking femme fatales firmly implanted in my mind. Instead I found Club 55 on Pampolonne Beach closed for winter. Nikki Beach? Closed. We settled on Tahiti Beach and a wonderful but way to hearty lunch at Millesim Beach Club Tahiti.
We parked our car between two coconut palms in the nearly deserted sandy parking lot. We were the only customers in the restaurant. Our hostess offered and immediately pushed a button to pull the awning back to the main building so we could dine under the Saint Tropez sun. Meanwhile two co-workers removed spent candle wax from woven rattan place mats and refinished the tea furniture. Down the plage (beach) a lone beachcomber slowly weaved his way toward the restaurant. Looking over the famous beach I tried to imagine the bikini clad goddesses who tempt the libidinal urges of the men who flock to this beach. Instead I saw a beach littered with ugly seaweed. While I couldn't argue with my seaside view, I couldn't imagine the crowds this narrow beach serves at the height of the season.
We left the beach with a promise. A promise to return and compare and contrast are January experience with one in May or September. Finding the road toward Toulon, we decided to make time to visit yet another medieval village or two and one of the most famous vineyards in the Provencal region -- Domaine Tempier.
Bandol. Wine. And More Medieval.
Using a rough map from the winery's website we pulled into the driveway of Domaine Tempier. Following us down the driveway was a young boy of 8 or 9 years. He walked into the office behind us and quickly made his way into the home connected to the office. We were greeted by a nice looking woman in here 30's. I asked if she spoke English. No luck. I muttered a few badly pronounced French words but the two or three that made it through were dégustation (tasting) and Kermit Lynch. Kermit is the Berkeley-based importer responsible for discovering and bringing Domaine Tempier into the United States.
Bandol and the successful wineries in the region can thank Tempier's founder, the late Lucien Peyraud, who in 1941 helped gain Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée status for the region. We were soon greeted by Catherine Peyraud, Lucien's daughter-in-law, who explained her husband Jean-Marie had retired in 1999 and winemaking duties had been taken over by former Domaine Ott winemaker Daniel Ravier. While Bandol is known for its big and hearty reds, the wine must be aged in casks for at least 18 months and contain at least 50 percent Mourvèdre, I was most interested in its Rosé -- yes a pink wine.
Unfortunately the Rosé was sold out but coincidentally one of Kermit Lynch's representatives had visited Domaine Tempier the day before so there were a small amount of the Rosé we could taste. Glad I asked. We then tasted the 2001 and 2001 reds. I'll refrain from making this post any longer than it already is by not including my tasting notes. Instead, I'll urge you to find a bottle of 2000 Domaine Tempier (it ranked #53 in Wine Spectator's top 100 wines of 2003). Or look for Domaine Bunan or its other properties including Chateâu La Rouvière, Moulin des Costes, Mas de la Rouvière and Domaine de Bélouvé for a true taste of Mouvedre from Bandol. They are perfect with hearty winter meals of Coq a Vin, bouillabaisse, stews, lamb and roasted pork. Hmmmmm.
As we left Domaine Tempier the sun was setting. Off in the distance we saw another village perched high upon a hill. Hoping to find our first and last medieval village of that day we pointed our Peugeot 307 in the direction and drove into Le Castellet.
Photos: (1 & 2) Bridget Bardot; (3) Gnarly old Mouvedre vines at Domain Tempier in Bandol region of France; (4) Entrance to Domain Tempier; (5) Catherine Penraud of Domaine Tempier; (6) Sunset over Bandol; (7) Medieval church in Le Castellet, France.
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It's not that I didn't want to order it. Rather I didn't know what it was. There was no translation in my phrase book nor was it in Bryan's French/English dictionary. The one he bought in France. But sitting in the shadow of Saint-Paul de Vence we were hungry and what else would we do while waiting for all of France to wake up from its 3 hour long lunch and nap?/ Like Italy and elsewhere in Europe life seems to shutdown at noon. Or maybe that's when the French really live. Restaurants are open. But try to find a museum, gallery or shop open between these hours -- virtually impossible.
The afternoon sun felt warm on my back and made the chill I experienced walking the shadows of this medieval village go away. The chalkboard with lazily written French sat on the chair of the table next to us.
"Just order it." Bryan insisted if not slightly impatient at my temporary inability to comment to my next gastronomic experience. "Isn't this what it's all about?"
I thought about that. What it's all about. It's about life. Living. Experience. Immersion. And maintaining my lifelong subscription to the adage when in Rome... But this is Provence. Known for hearty meals. Something hearty sounded good. Even with the warmth of the sun the occasional breeze reminded me that I was in the south of France in the middle of the winter. That's why there was only two other tables eating lunch.
I examined the chalkboard and tried to translate the menu. Perhaps I was more interested in examining the carte de vins than dwelling on the five choices scribbled on a chalk board.
The waiter walked over pen and paper in hand. "Oui messieur?" I was still undecided.
Bryan spit out while pointing to the board, "PIed de porc, s'il vous plaît!" Then insisted I just order. I pointed to something on the board that was untranslatable and since forgotten.
My eyes glazed over the equally short carte de vins looking for a local wine that would go nice with my meal -- a plat du jour which I had no idea was. Fish or meat? Lean or fat. Bryan asked for my phrase book. It was the semi-useful style that fit into my back pocket and contained indexed sections such as "at the market" or "shopping" even "emergencies" and "getting around". The section most useful seemed to be the menu guide. An overview on how to order, things you'd say and phrases you'd use. There was a brief dictionary in this section, too. Bryan jumped here and in the middle of my sentence proclaiming I'd made a wine decision he interrupted me.
"Oh my god!" He was half smiling and sporting a slight look of concern on his face. "You'll never guess what I ordered." When he revealed his discovery I burst laughing into one of those uncontrollable and hearty laughs that are difficult to hide or stop. The kind of laugh that's contagious, too.
Behind his Revo sunglasses tears started to fall. With the sun beating down on his face, Bryan couldn't stop laughing. This went on. Laughing like this is extremely healthy. One might say it's what it's all about. Experience. Living. And laughing.
Bryan would be stuck with his meal choice: Pigs feet.
When the plates arrived I once again tried to understand exactly WHAT I would be eating. It looked like some sort of pork, maybe even boar. With my permission he moved some of the vegetables and potatoes in my stew-like dish and pointed something that resembled the shape of a tongue. Rubbing his hand on his stomach with the universal sign of "this is delicious" then bringing his thumb and first to fingers to his lips and kissing them he said "C'est délicieux!"
Bryan pushed two round meatball looking things on his plate. When we inquired about these the best I could understand that it was something wrapped in the stomach lining like tripe. Bryan's eyes continued to roll. At least they weren't what he thought would be his worst nightmare: pigs balls.
When in Rome.
To be sure this food is considered a delicacy and very traditional Provencal. And isn't life to experience.
Photos: (1) Fresh fruit at the Tuesday market in St. Tropez; (2) Art gallery in artist village of Saint-Paul de Vence; (3) Nightime winter tree in Saint-Paul; (4) Walking the medieval alleys in Saint-Paul at night.
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As I noted before there have been some problems getting the bloglet e-mail subscriptions working. I've written a number of new posts since arriving in France yet I've noticed no notifications going out.
So if you haven't received a notification, don't worry. I'm working on getting the service working again. Thanks for your patience.
Meanwhile still in France. Spent last night in Monaco. I'll blog more later.
Au revoir.
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As many of you know I live in Southern California where real estate development is king. Most of the major new home developers are headquartered there. In fact Bryan, my fellow traveler here in France, recently bought a new home in Northern California build by a developer in Newport Beach. And in Southern California once something starts to show a little age, whether the woman gracing the shopping malls pushing baby carriages or the 35 year old building downtown, the attitude is to tear it down and rebuild it -- make it look new and young again.
Ahh. But Europe with its rich and colorful history it is hard to knock down the solid stone structure that have melded with the landscape for centuries. Today we took a ride to explore a few of the medieval towns on the eastern Riviera. There's nothing like walking through narrow cobblestone or travertine lined walkways and imagining the people that lived there so many years ago.
We took a trip to Saint Paul near Vence. Popular for its artist colony and famous artists who spent time there including Picasso, Miro and Chagall. Then a drive through Bar de Loup (sp?), Tourettes until finally stopping in Grasse which is known as the fragrance or perfume capital of France. We actually toured a perfumerie museum (musee du perfumerie) where we learned about extraction of essential oils, aromas and more. The hills of this part of the Riviera are home to acres of oranges and lemons. In fact, Bar de Loup hosts an annual Orange Blossom festival.
I'm unable to elaborate more because the clock is ticking here and daylight is burning. So enjoy the photos and I'll catch up later.
Photos: (1) Tower and light in Saint Paul artist medieval village; (2) Late afternoon sun basks Tourettes in a golden glow.
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Bread. It's a staple. Though with the ever increasing population of Atkins-esque loyalists in the United States bread is a shunned food. France? I love waking up and seeing people walking around with baguettes under their arms. The boulangeries are open in the morning and then they closed for the early afternoon only to reopen around 3 or 4. Because you need to buy a baguette in the morning AND in the evening. Fresh bread twice a day. And damn good bread, too!
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For some reason my XML-RPC settings were inhibiting my RSS feed from being read by Bloglet. Therefore there haven't been any subscription notices (my blog has been updated emails) in the last several weeks. Sorry for the inconvenience. You might want to scroll down the page a bit to see what new posts I've written in January. True, blogging has been light, but I'm getting back on track and enjoying sending some short stories from the South of France.
If you haven't subscribed to The Digital Tavern, please take a moment and enter your email in the space on the right column of this page. Each time I post you'll get a short reminder to come back and check it out. I don't use the email addresses for any other purpose. Thanks.
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Just a quick happy birthday to my brother Jon! Wish I could be celebrating with a huge 3 liter of a vintage Barolo. But I'm just going to suffer in France. Enjoy buddy!
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We took a scenic ride down the coast of the Riviera from St. Rafael to Cannes. With blue skies and daytime temperature of 60ish the windy and twisty road through Agay and down to Cannes slipped by before we knew it. Spotting what some might say is the ubiquitous castle in France; we stopped in La Napoule-Plage to scope out an amazing castle restore at the turn of the century by the American Artist Henry Clews.
Clews was the sun of a wealthy New York banker who fled from the United States to Europe and finally settled in this fishing village on the Mediterranean. The medieval chateau he restored bears the inscription on the entrance "Once Upon A Time". Today the castle hosts the Musee Henry-Clews and from what I understand offers an artists in residency program.
The fun part of my excursion to south France for this trip is my lack of planning and research. Certainly there are the highlights that I am excited about exploring. Following in the footsteps from historical figures such as Napoleon to the famed impressionist and modern artists of Renoir, Monet, Van Gogh, Chagall, Cezanne and Chagall. But spotting an imposing castle perched on the sea and pulling off to discover an artist and his passion for his art (he died in 1937) enriches the experience.
Cannes is famed for the International Film Festival it hosts annually where stars and celebrities worldwide dodge the paparazzi while hoping to rank high in a film contest that only is out flanked by the Hollywood Oscar spectacle. Perhaps not as famous but equally of interest to me, Cannes hosts an annual festival for advertising. Where agencies, art directors and copywriters worldwide throw their best ad campaigns to the judges in the hopes of walking away with a statue.
Bryan and I climbed the hill that is home to the Tour de Suquet, a 14th Century tower standing tall and proud adjacent to the Notre-Dame de l"Esperance, an historic church built between 1500-1600 that combines elements of both Gothic and Renaissance architecture. But for those who'd rather worship the almighty and ever present French mega fashion brands, Cannes hosts the chic and the classic. A shoppers Mecca. I knew things were somewhat amiss when I spotted a billboard that proudly claimed January 7-25, 2004 as the International Shopping Festival. Oh brother, get me out of here.
If you've ever traveled to France and spent any time in the major cities or resorts such as Paris, Cannes, Nice etc., you've probably noticed how fond the French are of their dogs. Particularly those small yappy lap dogs that seem to spend as much time at the coiffures as their owners. Now in the US and perhaps other major cities as a non-dog owner you might find it odd that dog owners carry small bags. Sometimes empty. And sometimes full, if not a bit warm; which might be nice in the winter if not wearing gloves. Yes. The terrible duty of cleaning up dogshit. Well after Bryan found himself in desperate need of cleaning his shoes I had to explain that of all the cities I've traveled over the years I have found the French simply don't like to clean up after their dogs. And damn there are a lot of dogs in France. This makes for a bit of a minefield for shoppers, walkers and otherwise street dwellers.
Ok. So it's not that bad. An espresso and crepe with an eyeful of people to watch, I'm liking Cannes. Even better. This is Sunday. The shops are closed.
As we headed out of Cannes Sunday night I couldn't help thinking how much I was looking forward to touring the medieval towns of Eze, St. Paul, Vence, Tourettes and more. Hoping to take in more history, art and architecture and less blatant consumerism when we drove buy yet another McDonalds. Not that it[base ']s unusual to see a McDonalds perhaps anywhere in the world. Knowing the resistance many French have to anything American, the sight of a McDonald[base ']s is like a pimple or wrinkle on their botoxless epidermis. But this one must be a true infection -- it was a drive through McDonalds. That's right. Just a few miles from the see-me, dig-me beaches of Cannes a drive through McDonalds. Geeez.
Photos: (1) Henry Clews Castle now an art museum, cafe and artists colony near Cannes in France; (2) Looking over the roofs of Cannes; (3) There are a lot of dogs in France. And a lot of French with dogs that don't read roadsigns.
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A lot of people let jet lag interfere with enjoying the first few days of any trans oceanic flight. Even a transatlantic flight. For me, landing in Nice at noon (3am California time), I committed to myself to resist the temptation of a mid-afternoon South of France nap. So I decided to start my day with a light lunch and a glass of red wine then a long walk through the alleys and backroads of Nice. The morning market was all but packed up save a lone merchant whose was still displaying fresh yet unsold fish resting on crushed ice. Cool colors and eyes staring blankly. Ahhh. The Mediterranean.
Passion is a good thing. Passion for art, music, food, reading, writing, blogging, stamp collecting or whatever. Yet when some cannot identify or find their passion they direct their attention unimaginatively and blindly to something easy, popular or otherwise accessible. Things like sports, television, or other icons of pop culture. Many times its attached to something parochial like an alma mater, region or wider like nationalism.
Nationalism. I think it's good to be proud of your country or heritage. And in a way this is perfectly normal. That is, until it's obsessive. I find in the shadow of ignorance flag waving an fist stomping about a politician, political party or your country utterly boring and stupid. Cheering for the USA is a great thing except when its done with ill regard for understanding bigger and wider cultural and geographical diversity.
So when we conversed with the table next to us at dinner the other night I found it fun and amusing that we spent the better part of our desert course in a funny and often heated conversation with two French national couples. Even funnier was the fact that they spoke exactly NO English and we barely could communicate in kitchen French. But armed with my French phrase book, a good attitude, smiles and a couple glasses of wine somehow we engaged in a fun and somewhat interesting conversation.
When we told the two French couples we were from America the oldest gentlemen laughed a little then jibed the guy sitting next to him, smirked and mumbled Chirac and a bunch of French I couldn't distinguish. The next word that rang clear among the gibberish French was Bush. I laughed and told them I wasn't Bush. True, I think they could see that, but I wanted to make sure. Then the younger gentlemen laughing explained that Bush was Pinocchio as he used his hands to mime and gesture his nose growing. The table chuckled.
As the profiteroles arrived I asked the older man if he'd ever been to the United States.
"France!" he said confidently as his voice raised.
"Australia?" I asked.
"France!
"How about African?" My inquiries scanned the globe. "England?"
"France!" his hands clenched in a fist which he raised and as he dropped his arm down his elbow banged on the table. "France. France. France!"
I asked him, "You really like France, don't you?"
He muttered a few indecipherable words until three letters I recognized, "C.i.A.?" His wife turned to me, "CIA?"
"Possible." I assured them.
The man was so infatuated by his own country. His culture. That he couldn't see beyond France. Fanaticism no matter religion, politics or sporting teams resulting in blinding ignorance is unhealthy and unattractive. But attitudes such as my new friend the Frenchman pervade the globe. Territorial, parochial and xenophobic attitudes result in protectionism, isolationism and even terrorism. I'm not alone when I say I hate this stuff. Our french dining neighbors were innocent enough but what is worrisome are those extremists with malicious intent. Ouch.
Photos: (1) View from the highest point in Nice of the French Riveria city of Nice (2) Winter crowds on the Riveriera are far away; two lone chairs await activity on the beach in Nice. (3) Street clock in Downtown Nice, France. (4) Roman Ruins in St. Rafael, France of an aqueduct. Nearby are a romain theatre and collisueum.
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I see that Boris and chicgeek helped get Joi a new moblog. I must admit that since Joi got involved with TypePad his site is SO much cleaner and easy to read. Way to go Joi. Maybe he'll share his Moblogging script with me. Though as a Radio Weblogger I may be out of luck. Check out Joi's old moblog and his new Moblog.Now that I have a cam phone complete with MMS, SMS, e-mail, web, Symbian and a chess game. If anyone has any ideas or can point me to a utility that will allow me to feel the Joi of moblogging. All is appreciated.
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The flight across the pond amounted to exactly 136 songs on my iPod. That's pulling it out less than an hour after take off and powering down the electronic device just before landing in Paris. One hundred thirty six songs from Atlanta to Paris. That means there's still 2001 songs I've yet to listen to on this journey.
I'm sitting here in Paris waiting for my flight to Nice. The Charles de Gaulle airport is divided into lettered terminals the French translate as 'halls'. Quite the contrast from my last mass transportation infrastructure in Atlanta, the Halls here are not in alphabetical order. I knew this. But it always throws me for a loop -- literally.
I couldn't resist sharing with you my view of a businessman in a taupe trench coat seated opposite me. In his mid-50's sporting a white button down shirt with a flared collar he rifles through his briefcase with his right hand while digging into his nostril with his left. This has been going on for more than a couple minutes. One knuckle in he twirls his finger in a pirouette and then finally pulling it out he brushes and flicks his five o-clock stubble apparently relishing the texture of his upper lip. Repeating his ritual he goes for the other nostril seeming unaware anyone watching him. Perhaps totally subconscious. Perhaps he just doesn't care. He's deep in thought while reading his papers. I'm deep in blogging his actions. The things we do for entertainment.
Truly airports are some of the best people watching venues. Passing through immigration and customs here was a breeze. No questions. Not even a stamp for my passport. Security too was uneventful. Unlike any US airport I did not have to take my computer out of my bag nor were people taking shoes off or otherwise going under the wand treatment. And to think just a few weeks ago the US government forbade a number of Air France flights from heading to the States.
I'll be a Nice then St. Tropez in a few hours. I'll be linking up with my buddy Bryan who along with me co-founded Wirestone in 1999. He left the company late last year and has been traveling through Europe with his family since the end of December.
It will be a nice reunion in the South of France. Much to discuss. Much to reminisce.
3:12:49 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
It's funny watching the baggage handlers unload the luggage from the belly of the 757 that just flew me from Orange County to Atlanta. No direct international flights from Orange County. A man and a woman unloaded the luggage as I gazed from my 36 row seat. Packed plane. And yes. I was in coach. And the 6'5" guy (I'm not joking next to me) could barely keep his lanky limbs from jabbing and poking me all flight. That god I'm compact and able to cuddle up to the window. So the woman seemed to be doing all the work. Every 5 or 6 bags the older looking man with thick specs grabbed a bag. There were two luggage carts there for carting luggage away. And occasionally the older man would glance at the crumbled and folded paper in his hand. He never pocked this paper. I thought odd. Always one-handing the luggage and throwing it on the cart. He would selectively toss and then fix the luggage to various sections of the two cars. He was especially fond of the cart closest to him. Then I figured it out. Here in Atlanta the old man with the folded paper is the luggage sorter. Carefully pulling those bags that need to transfer to other flights. A manual process?! I guess so. The woman tossed a bag on the tarmac. Slam. Pounded on the pavement the older man seemingly didn't notice. As I took a final glance out the window while my row exited, the man grabbed the wheeled suitcase, pulled out the handle and wheeled away.
And this is my entertainment for the day.
I sit in the Delta Club Lounge here in Atlanta. WiFi access thanks to T-Mobile -- who also is my new cellular provider. Nice pale ale on tap and salty nuts. Beats hanging at the gate scrounging around for an outlet to recharge the 17" batteries. I played with the new iPhoto 4 while on the flight. More on that later.
Soon I'll escape to the madness of the concourse and grab my seat. I secured a bulk head for the flight to Paris and Nice. Nice.
4:07:15 PM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
Well it just seems when I just get my feet planted back home I get itching and gotta move. Yeah. Another quick trip. Can't stand still. This time I'm off to the south of France. The beaches of the Riviera. Though I'm not sure this is the best time to go from a "beach" point of view. But I'm sure it will be beautiful. As usual and like my recent trips to Italy, Mexico and beyond, I'll try to color these pages with prose regarding my experience in what seems to be the continuing and evolving travelogue section of the Digital Tavern.
8:23:59 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
Jobs is talking iPod success. The holiday quarter for the iPod, Apple sold 700,000 + iPods. This means now Apple has sold more than 2 million iPods. Apple is showing the iPod sales curve.
Marketshare for Apple in MP3 market: 31% and 55% in revenues. (no December figures inlcuded in this market)
The 10 gigabyte will now be upgraded to 15 gigs and keeping the same price at $299.
New Apple in ear headphones will sell for $39.
There's a new advertisement for iPod. Great! Hip!
Jobs is talking about the 62% of MP3 markets which are cheaper using Flash memory -- called Flash Players. He's showing the RIO player that has 256 mb holds 60 songs and is about an inch thick. Terrible interface.
Jobs is introducing a second member of the iPod family. iPod mini is introduced.
IPod Mini
4 gigs
1,000 songs
1/2 inch thick
$249 price tag
The size of a business card. 1/2 inch thick.
Garage Band
Add-ons for Garage Band:
Jam Pack - more instruments and 2,000 more loops, 15 more amps. Only $99
How much will all this cost?Only $49!
Or, FREE WITH EVERY MAC! Microsoft Office for the rest of your life!
A major pro audio music creation tool -- for everybody! Per Gallup Poll 1/2 of all US households have at least one person who plays a musical instrument.
Digitally mix up to 64 tracks
Use over 1,000 professional loops
Plug your guitar directly into your mac and choose different guitar and amp sounds
Software Instruments - use any USB or MIDI keyboard
John Mayer joins Jobs on stage to demonstrate Garage Band.
GarageBand will record live Midi information from the Keyboard or any other MIDI or USB based instrument.
This looks so cool.
Jobs is now creating a groove song using loops. He's having a lot of fun. The crowd is patient as he creates. I love the way this looks and sounds. I hope its performance matches the great look.
GarageBand comes with built in guitar amps. This is like the original POD or SansAmp -- boxes you could plug guitars into to model old amplifiers.
Mayer is playing vintage 70's amp, surf, rock etc. Sounds great!
Now Mayer is recording lead guitar over loops directly into the Mac using GarageBand. I had no idea he could really play guitar. Great songwriter. But guitar player, too.
GarageBand supports direct export to iTunes creating a special playlist simultaneously.
iDVD
20 new themes
Enhanced menus
Enhanced slideshows
DVD navigation map
Pro encoding - 2 hours at higher quality
Wow. Now get 2 hours of movie on a single DVD
Archive projects so you can burn on another machine
iPhoto
Blazing fast performance for up to 25,000 photos
Time-based organization. Auto album generation by year.
iPhoto now supports rating photos.
Quick key for rating and rotating photos
Improved slide show
Enhnaced titling with new transitions in titles, too.
Ability to change transitions in slide show (yeah!) and have more than one song play so long shows don't just rotate the same song over and over again.
Rendezvous photo sharing: works like iTunes sharing only you can copy photos.
Now use your iSight camera to import directly from the camera.
Now supports direct posting of web-sized movie clips to .Mac accounts. Just like iPhoto.
Other Announcements
New Microsoft Office
Final Cut Express revved up to version 2
Jobs is talking about how Pepsi will give away 1,000,000 free songs. Buy a Pepsi and look under the cap you might win. Pepsi will advertise this including a spot during the SuperBowl on February 1st.
Jobs is announcing iLife 2. Wow looks like he's made major performance improvements
11:56:12 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
It's the 20th Anniversary of the Macintosh and the infamous 1984 Apple Computer SuperBowl spot directed by Ridley Scott. Tomorrow Steve Jobs takes the stage at Moscone Center and addresses the faithful who have made the pilgrimage
to Macintosh Mecca. This is only the second time in 18 years I will miss the show and Jobs' classic keynote. I hope the local Apple store in Fashion Island will serve up his show via satellite.
The Mac rumor sites are crammed with speculation. Even The Wall Street Journal chimed in with analysts predictions. Over the years Apple has had operated under heavy pressure to deliver something outrageously great, new and innovative at the annual event. This pressure can cause unrealistic expectations. Failure to meet expectations can send mixed messages to media, Wall Street and its customers.
Fortunately, Jobs has slowly been weaning Apple watchers off of annual product announcements. The latest edition of the iPod was announced in May along with the iTunes Music Store. New PowerBooks, 20" iMacs and iTunes for Windows were all announced this year at independent events.
But the pressure is still on. And I will report here from The Digital Tavern live from the Apple Store. So tune in and refresh your page often as I will be updating the same post every 5 minutes or so.
3:00:33 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
I finally retired my vintage 2001 Kyocera 6035 Smart Phone, Verizon Wireless cell service, and the Palm operating system and have started the New Year anew.
I'd been arguing with Verizon for months. Every since receiving a replacement phone via their Asurion insurance/extended warranty my service has sucked. My phone never worked great in my home office, but since the new phone it hasn't' worked within 5 blocks of my house. Message notification has been pitiful. And the bright colorful screens of the new phones and my waning low light eyesight gave me LCD envy.
I had been waiting for a phone that incorporated the Palm OS, with Bluetooth. A camera or expandable storage sounded good. Samsung and Treo phones looked good. But the lack of a conventional dial pad on the Samsung and the Treo's plastic and flimsy feel made me uneasy. I drop my phone plenty. I'm not sure the Treo would make it a month in my possession. And the Samsung's screen would just be scratched and oil stained by stylus, pen and my fingers.
Enter the Sony Ericsson P900. It uses the Symbian operating system which with iSync is compatible with the Address Book and iCal applications on Mac OS X. Plus, it's Bluetooth. This means no more cradle and tethered synchronizations. The screen is awesome. Bright, high resolution and so easy to read in virtually any light. It has a camera and comes with all the modern features phones seem to offer these days: photo ID, unique rings, mp3 player etc.
I've had a bit of challenge in getting consistent Bluetooth connections with Apple's iSync. And while I'm not used to the Sybian operating system, I'm finding that older entries in my Mac Address Book are getting synchronized with only partial data. These entries are likely entries that have been transported from multiple address books over the last 3 years including Entourage, QuickMail and Now Contact. I do find that new entries are synchronizing all fields accurately. This is much better than with my old Kyocera running an older version of the Palm OS. No matter what I'd classify a phone field on my Address Book (mobile, home, work, fax etc.) the numbers would transfer to my Kyocera phone running Palm but the field labels would disappear and simply default to "other".
So while I'm expecting a lot from this new phone, it is taking a lot of work to get all my data to match. I should note also that it appears according to the Sony Ericsson Manual that handwriting recognition supports Graffiti like stylus movements, I've been unable to use any Graffiti with success. To be sure, the Symbian system (I think it's Sybian) is much more intuitive; I'm just going to have to unlearn Graffiti.
Another interesting thing, I bought this phone in New York City. And I was ready and willing to abandon my Verizon service now that phone number portability is a reality. However, the retailer was unable to transfer outside the New York area. They told me I could change it when I returned to California. But after punching in my info and getting a phone number, the whole store was amazed that I got a (212) area code. This area code has been depleted of numbers for many years and there's barely a cell phone in New York with a 212 area code. So they told me. The reaction was the same at my friend's business and to other people I've handed out my number. Hmmm. Maybe I should keep it?
Overall, I like the phone. It has a much more solid feel than the predecessor, the Sony Ericsson P800. Of course, I've been outspoken about my dissatisfaction of Sony and its ongoing attempt at controlling its markets with proprietary technology. The phone not only uses the Sony MemoryStick. It's yet another version of the Memory Stick called the MemoryStick Duo. Oh brother. And the overall Sony user interface could take a lesson from Jakob Nielson. But I'm getting used to it and will likely report in a few weeks once I've used it extensively.
3:00:04 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
I'm on a plane heading to Southern California from Ronald Reagan International Airport in Washington DC. I was fortunate to spend time with my brother's family and toast the new year at his annual bash. Started the trip in NYC and Tall Timbers, New Jersey making a road trip from NYC to DC.
Packed in quite a bit of activity during my DC visit including visits to the Corcoran , Phillips Collection, The International Spy Museum and my first visit to the Holocaust Museum.
Had a short layover in Houston. Over the airport's public address system I heard this:
[...]"Due to heightened security Code Orange, The Department of Homeland Security [...] making jokes or comments may lead to your arrest."
I've traveled extensively over the past 4 months and this is the first time I've heard such an announcement. While I'm in agreement that nobody should joke about terrorism, bombs, threats etc., but where is the line in the sand? Who is responsible for interpreting such "jokes" or "comments"? Putting everybody on heightened alert seems to create more chaos and paranoia than solutions.
2:56:53 AM permalink | | trackback disabled due to spam
Everything was making sense. We wondered why the metric system was dismantled in the US. This happened during my generation. I remember that they were trying to teach us this at a young age in elementary school and then all of a sudden the instruction came to an end. I always figured that it was because we were too stubborn to adhere to a new system of measurement. Now looking back Allan and I figure that it was most likely big business. The cost of converting to a new measurement system would certainly overrule the fact that it makes sense. Forget the long-term benefits. Go figure. 
The beauty of traveling virtually anywhere these days is the proliferation of the internet cafe. Whether you're in the middle of Bolivia, the remote towns of Tuscany or tiny villages of the French Riviera, chances are you're glance away from an internet cafe.
Using a rough map from the winery's website we pulled into the driveway of Domaine Tempier. Following us down the driveway was a young boy of 8 or 9 years. He walked into the office behind us and quickly made his way into the home connected to the office. We were greeted by a nice looking woman in here 30's. I asked if she spoke English. No luck. I muttered a few badly pronounced French words but the two or three that made it through were dégustation (tasting) and Kermit Lynch. Kermit is the Berkeley-based importer responsible for discovering and bringing Domaine Tempier into the United States. 
It's not that I didn't want to order it. Rather I didn't know what it was. There was no translation in my phrase book nor was it in Bryan's French/English dictionary. The one he bought in France. But sitting in the shadow of Saint-Paul de Vence we were hungry and what else would we do while waiting for all of France to wake up from its 3 hour long lunch and nap?/ Like Italy and elsewhere in Europe life seems to shutdown at noon. Or maybe that's when the French really live. Restaurants are open. But try to find a museum, gallery or shop open between these hours -- virtually impossible. 
As many of you know I live in Southern California where real estate development is king. Most of the major new home developers are headquartered there. In fact Bryan, my fellow traveler here in France, recently bought a new home in Northern California build by a developer in Newport Beach. And in Southern California once something starts to show a little age, whether the woman gracing the shopping malls pushing baby carriages or the 35 year old building downtown, the attitude is to tear it down and rebuild it -- make it look new and young again.
Bread. It's a staple. Though with the ever increasing population of Atkins-esque loyalists in the United States bread is a shunned food. France? I love waking up and seeing people walking around with baguettes under their arms. The boulangeries are open in the morning and then they closed for the early afternoon only to reopen around 3 or 4. Because you need to buy a baguette in the morning AND in the evening. Fresh bread twice a day. And damn good bread, too!
So when we conversed with the table next to us at dinner the other night I found it fun and amusing that we spent the better part of our desert course in a funny and often heated conversation with two French national couples. Even funnier was the fact that they spoke exactly NO English and we barely could communicate in kitchen French. But armed with my French phrase book, a good attitude, smiles and a couple glasses of wine somehow we engaged in a fun and somewhat interesting conversation. 
"Possible." I assured them.
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