Tag: celesteh

Hot Power Brick

Lately, I’ve been noticing the smell of hot plastic, whenever I’m on my laptop. Just now, I tracked it down to the power brick. It’s the Apple one that came with my laptop when I purchased it in North america. Now, I’m using it in Europe. I thought these things could deal with international electricity differences without problem? Should I get a step down converter? Could it be something about the particular power outlet that it’s been plugged in to? What in it could break to cause this change, but still allow it to deliver power? Could it just be the unusual way in which the cable was coiled around it? If I do nothing, will it catch fire, resulting in massive data loss and the death of my sousaphone? Is it possessed by demons? Can this kind of problem arise from being stuffed into a messenger bag and bouncing around on the front of a small bicycle bounding over cobblestones?

This situation is suboptimal, but at least I found it before it burned a hole in a sofa cushion.

Update

computer store dude says to keep using the adaptor until it dies a natural death. I think I’ll keep it more on the floor and less on the sofa, and not leave it plugged in when I’m not around to look at it.

More offline blogging about France

When I last left you, a perpetual scholar of the French Academy was starting her speech. You do not need to skip ahead, as I will not recount it here. I was not standing at the side of the parade route paying rapt attention. I was sitting on the curb with my head cradled in my crossed arms. I dreamt that she talked about Joan of Arc’s blog.
There is widespread consensus that Joan of Arc was illiterate when she started her career, but some scholars believe that she gained literacy by the time she died. Orléans was her first campaign, so the chances of her being able to write by that time are very low. She dictated some letters to the English, but she didn’t write them. Therefore, alas, Joan of Arc could not have blogged her campaign against the English at Orléans unless she dictated it or perhaps did audio posting via her cellphone. What would her blog have said? I sense a work of fiction in my future.
I awoke as a show of French military force rumbled up the street. Tanks, troop carriers and soldiers marching in dress uniform. The announcer gave statistics about who had just come back from Afghanistan, who was about to go and how many had been killed or injured there. Then came the gendarmes, also in dress uniform, marching with bayonets affixed to their machine guns. These military police are used domestically to quell unrest at demonstrations, like the one I had seen the night before. Then, came the firefighters in their shiny silver helmets and with their big red firetrucks. For the first time, the crowd applauded. They’re not too taken with the Gendarmes, but everybody loves a firefighter.
Then, more speechifying. Then the civic / religious parade started in the opposite direction. The Joan of Arc character rode up the street on her horse in show armor, smiling and waving at everyone. She looked radiantly happy and overwhelmed by the moment. You could almost imagine the real Joan of Arc with the same expression. The Orlánaise girl was enjoying the attention, but knew she was standing in for another figure. Joan of Arc might have enjoyed the attention as well, but herself put all the credit on God and the patron saints of the city.
She was followed by a bunch of pages and knights in period dress and then by other folks in period dress including the dancers from earlier and people with what looked to be relics and people whose idea of period dress got farther and farther afield until it devolved into men dressed as wizards and other such silliness. There were also altar boys, town leaders, regional politicians, priests, bishops, archbishops, honored guests and people with various flag sashes pinned to them. There were boy scouts and girl scouts and gymnasts and jugglers and basketball teams and rowing teams carrying their boats and every other civic organization in the entire department proudly marched by.
Nicole and Xena and I went to the medieval market to get lunch and drink mead. I made the only notes in my journal of the entire trip:

8 May 2007, 17:30
I am sitting at a table at the medieval market in Orléans. Xena is sitting at my feet, leaning into my leg for reassurance. Today, she has been surrounded by crowds and subject to barking dogs, marching bands, drum corps and a couple of canons.
I am waiting for Nicole to return with mead and a crepe made from ostrich eggs. [Here] there are also breads and sheep cheeses in traditional styles. Behind me, there is meat smoking over a small wood fire and a few meters to my right, there are sheep awaiting their edible fate.

The people in silly costumes from the march started to come back into the market. The march is exceedingly long and goes all around the city. I don’t recall if Joan dictated the route for the thanksgiving parade, but I believe she may have. It goes from the cathedral, down the main drag, across the bridge and along way down the road on the other side, certainly farther than the city extended when she was there. Perhaps there was a monastery or other shrine at the end. Then they come all the way back. Hours later, exhausted gymnasts and scouts, with encouragement from the parents, finish their long trek around the city.
The Joan of Arc character was in front of the Cathedral where another part of the ceremony took place. Then, they marched to the city hall where some of her colors and banners were retired to wait until next year. She looked exhausted, like she wanted to climb down from her horse and fall asleep right at it’s feet. Again, I can imagine the real Joan of Arc, who had an injury and who had barely eaten anything in the last day, after having lead charge after charge against the English. She would have been even more exhausted. But with a sense of duty the modern girl went on, to the museum to store the rest of her armor for the next year. It poured down rain for this last kilometer. And then she went on to return to normal life and her relative obscurity. Perhaps even now, people she knows are complimenting her on her good work, and next year, people will remind her of, but in the end she holds a place held by hundreds of other girls. Joan the Maid went on to the next town to beat the English there and the next town in victory after victory until the whole Loire Valley was in the hands of the Armagnacs.

May 9

The next morning, we broke down our camp to head the same direction that Joan went. She had with her local guides. We had the camp ground director. We intended to follow the Loiret for a very pretty shortcut through small, lovely villages. But the director sent us off in the opposite direction and then I misread the map several times and we found ourselves on the opposite side of the river than our planned route, with no crossings for quite a long time.
The roads along the left bank had steep inclines, leading to charming tiny clusters of houses, made out of rock, lining narrow cobblestone streets. Chickens hid behind the high walls, heard but not seen. An old lady here and there peeked her head out of a garden gate, preparing to visit her neighbor or ride her motor scooter to the next town with a bakery. It was on one of these steep hills (beside a charming town, leading to a bridge over a small stream) that my gear shifter ceased functioning. I tried shifting it furiously from low to high gear to make it pop back into place, but all I succeeded in doing was getting it stuck in the most difficult gear.
Only one bike has a trailer hitch, so there was no trading dog dragging duties. I carried on, going up steep inclines at slow, difficult paces. My camera batteries had died overnight, so I have no documentation of the steely grey skies threatening rain as the wind blew against us. Nor the outrageously orange wildflowers in large fallow fields on either side of the road. Nor the trees, blowing in the wind. Or the small stone towns. Or the Renault mechanic who said the gear shifter was too complicated for him to fix.
We came to a town with a basilica and a tourist office. This town, like all the others for the last 30 kilometers, had no bike shop, but the town across the river, Meung sur Loire, did. So we crossed the river and went straight for the tourist office there. The desk clerk directed us several kilometers away to a non-existent bike repair place. Fortunately, some locals told us where to find a repair shop – about 3 blocks away from the tourist office. The shop adjusted the cable and fixed the bike in about 5 minutes and charged nothing.
After my bike was fixed, I went back the the tourist office to ask about camping. The municipal campground was closed. I had to go only 7 km to the next town. And so I did, on the hot, sweaty, windy, buggy main road, choked with rush hour traffic, while the humid sun beat down on me. I got to the camp ground and nearly fell asleep while checking in. “Are you tired?” the camp ground guy asked in French. I told him my tale of bike woe.
I did not return to Meung Sur Loire, but on the way to bike repair, we passed the Joan or Arc marker on the side of a building, detailing her stay in the town. When she arrived in town, she first captured the bridge fortifications and then, like us, sped off towards Beaugency.

Biking in Prague

I want to make some notes about biking in Prague. First of all, you should find a bike map. there are posted and marked bike routes and you should know where they are. Second, have your hotel on the castle side of the river, somewhat north of the castle. The ground there is flat and in the newer sections, there are less cobblestones. Third, have a bike with a lot of gears. three is not enough if you are towing a dog, for example. Fourth, the sidewalk’s cobblestones are much smaller than the street’s cobblestones and will make you feel less shaken to bits. Also, the traffic is scary and the sidewalk feels safer, even if slower. The natives seem to use the sidewalk. Also, the natives wear helmets, which is a sign that you should too. Sixth, watch out for doors. People do not look before jumping out of their cars and could easily smack you. Prague is definitely a ‘bike to the edge of the section you want to see and then park your bike’ kind of town.

Bike Travel

I have not yet worked out the perfect kit, but this is what I’ve got so far.

The bike

You need a bike that is comfortable going long distances and which can carry baggage. Also some bikes are unwelcome on certain trains. I picked Brompton because they’re light and fold and can go on any train or in any hotel room and have adequate baggage-carrying ability. Also, they are comfortable for going long distances. There are a few other makes of folding bikes which can also be used as touring bikes. Make sure you get lights on your bike and also luggage-carrying ability.

Rent or buy?

If you are towing a dog, you will probably need to buy, since you are attaching a hitch to your bike. Otherwise, it depends on a few factors, including how long you’ll be travelling and how you will be going. If you do train, bike, train, bike, etc, it could be wise to rent a bike at each town rather than lug a bike on all those trains and pay a supplement on every trip (unless your bike folds).
However, if you’re going to be out for a while, you can buy a used bike and sell it at the end of your trip. If you don’t break anything on the bike, this can be cheaper than renting. There’s two drawbacks to this plan: 1. Used bikes tend to sell out of shops at the start of the tourist season, so you’ll have to plan ahead with overseas ebay. (Used Bromptons don’t go for much less than new anyway.) 2. If you get a really cool bike, you won’t want to sell it back. (My bike is so awesome! I love it.)

Clothes to pack

This list is still in flux for me, but here’s a draft. Note that your needs will change depending on whether you plan to camp, stay in hotel rooms, with the weather, how much time you spend in urban areas, etc. In all circumstances, you want stuff that dries really quickly. Wrinkle-free is also very nice. Unless you plan to pack an iron.

For biking
  • 1 or two pairs of non-dorky looking bike shorts. These are shorts that have removal, padded liners, so you can wear them to bike around, but also walk around in them without looking silly.
  • One or two under-layer bike shirts. These are the really tight shirts that wick moisture away from your skin. they dry crazily fast. I wash mine in the shower and it’s dry for the day as soon as I put it on. Mine is currently a dark color and I think I might also want a lighter fabric, lighter color one for when it’s really hot.
  • One or two bike jerseys. I have one that looks like a normal t-shirt, which means I don’t look goofy when walking around, but those back pockets are very handy and I miss them and the lack of collar means my neck is more likely to sun burn. Also, mine is a dark color which can get too warm in direct sun.
  • A bike rain jacket. Waterproof, windproof, breathable. Ideally, you want one where the sleeves come off and with a removable liner. Thees are awesome because they adjust very easily to changes in temperature. They look a little goofy for just walking around because they’re long in the back, but are super comfy anyway.
  • Bike sleeves. These are spandex sleeves which are like arm warmers. They are really handy even when you’re not biking. If you are going in cold weather, you might also want spandex leg warmers which work the same way. And if it’s going to be really cold, you can also get a helmet-liner, to keep your head warm.
  • Bike gloves. You put sunblock all over your arms and hands. You bike for a couple of hours. You stop at a toilet. You wash your hands. You bike 4 more hours in the sun. Your hands are burnt to hell because you washed them and didn’t re-apply sunblock. Screw that. The gloves also add some nice padding for when you’re on cobble stones. (Remember that stupid joke about the nuns, the bike and the cobblestones? Who the hell came up with that? It should go, “‘Oh my god, I’ve lost all feeling in my genitals except for some pain!’ ‘Yes, cobblestones make celibacy so much easier!'”)
  • Glasses or sunglasses. You know what sucks? Getting bugs in your eyes. Or dirt. Or leaves. Or blossoms. Protect your eyes.
  • helmet. You only get one head in life. Besides, it completes that roadie look that you’re now sporting. Yeah, all this stuff might make you look like a dork, but you’re a comfortable dork who is protected and dressed in layers.
For touristing – Male / Masculine IDed people
  • swim trunks. These also work for shorts. (and a swim shirt if you get sunburnt easily)
  • A short-sleeved shirt with a collar. (2 if your bike jerseys can’t be worn around as regular clothes)
  • a tie or bow tie. (seriously)
  • Pants that zip into shorts
  • Pants
  • A hat or two. I take two hats. One keeps the sun and rain off. The other is warmer and more formal looking. Both pack flat.
  • A nice swearer. You throw on your pants, collared shirt, you bow tie, your more formal hat and your niceish sweater and suddenly, you can go anywhere. (If you don’t do a nice sweater, bring a blazer)
  • Nice-ish shoes. Well, you can’t go anywhere unless you have niceish shoes. I want to pack light, so I just got tan shoes which are really comfortable and sporty enough for biking, but nice enough for the Mister Rogers look described above. I kept gravitating to the golf shoes at sports stores. I can’t tell you how alarming it is to discover an interest in golf shoes.
  • Flip flops or tevas. For avoiding athlete’s foot in shared showers
  • Two pairs of underwear. One if you can get the super amazing fast drying kind, but make sure it breathes or you’ll be unhappy.
  • 2 or 3 pairs socks. Yeah, that means you’re always hauling around an extra pair of dirty socks, but we can pretend. I’m going to investigate biking socks tomorrow.
For touristing – those who prefer femme clothes

I got help with this list, but I’m not sure about it.

  • swim suit.
  • A piece of fabric that you can wrap around your (silly) bike shorts for an instant skirt. If it goes past your knees, that’s a bonus for getting into churches.
  • one or two shirts. (Two if your bike jersey is too silly to wear around town.) Make sure at least one of them covers your shoulders so you can get into churches.
  • Pants that zip into shorts.
  • Pants OR a skirt or dress.
  • a nice looking sweater or other wrap
  • Nice-ish shoes.
  • Flip flops or tevas. For avoiding athlete’s foot in shared showers
  • Two pairs of underwear. One if you can get the super amazing fast drying kind, but make sure it breathes or you’ll be unhappy.
  • One or two sports bras or tanks with one of those bra thingees built-in. These also work for undershirts and can be used instead of the bottom layer when biking.
  • 2 or 3 pairs socks. Some of these might have to be matched with your nice-ish shoes. You know how to do this better than I do.
  • a hat
  • bling. For looking dressy when needed. (Let’s put makeup in the “bling” category.)

Camping gear

  • Tent. Light is good.
  • Sleeping bag. Light is also good, but you want one that will keep you warm enough at your lowest likely temperature.
  • Flashlight

Optionally, of course, you can add pads to sleep on and a little cooking kit and a light weight espresso maker and dishes and all the other cool camping stuff. Depending on what you want to take uphill with only the power of your own muscles.

Toiletries / first aid

  • tooth brush, tooth paste, normal stuff, you know the drill. Make sure to also bring dental floss as it not only prevents cavities, but can also be used as a clothesline and to repair ripped fabric. don’t get travel versions of these things, just bring a regular size.
  • soap, shampoo, conditioner, comb, etc. Again, you know the drill. It’s possible in some places to find shampoo in bar form. This is way lighter, takes up less space and is more economical.
  • razor, shaving soap, etc
  • A pack towel. These are tiny, light weight microfiber towels that dry out really fast. Worth the price.
  • Sun block. and after-sun lotion. If you go to a drug store in France and ask for after-sun lotion, they will sell you the most soothing moisturizer ever, which totally helps sun burns. It may still be the case that European sunblock is better than American due to differing regulations.
  • Hand sanitizer. Keep a small bottle of it in your pocket at all times. This will make you happy and keep you from contracting strange toilet doorknob-borne illnesses.
  • toilet paper. Especially if you’re going to camp.
  • some sort of clothes washing stuff. you can bring laundry powder or super-concentrated laundry soap or just use your bar soap / shampoo, but you’re going to end up hand washing your underwear and socks, so you’ll need some kind of soap for it, even if you take all the big stuff to laundry mats
  • bug spray. DEET repels ticks.
  • vitamins – keeps you healthy even with a weird tourist diet
  • any pills or medicine that you take, including for allergies.
  • pain killers
  • moist towelettes. For cleaning wounds.
  • a tiny bottle of vodka. For cleaning wounds.
  • band aids.
  • ointment that can be applies to things like rashes, dry spots, bee stings, etc
  • a sewing needle that can use dental floss as thread.
  • tampons or whatever if you need them. This might be a good time for the diva cup, but it’s not a good time for luna pads. Unless you want to bike around with nasty, bloody, dirty, washable pads. If you are really that granola, may I suggest a water-tight container filled with water and hydrogen peroxide / oxygen bleach? Stick them in there until you can clean them properly. (Same goes if you have a baby with you that uses cloth diapers.)

Other stuff

  • Pocket knife.
  • hand pump
  • tire patch kit
  • bike lock
  • blinky lights
  • rain cover for seat
  • clip to keep your pants out of the chain (unless your chain is covered)
  • if your bike folds, get a canvas cover for it.
  • water bottles or camel back thing (or both.)
  • camera (w/ film or extra memory stick)
  • rechargeable batteries and charger – for your camera and your lights and flashlight. These can be purchased very cheaply in Europe. don’t bring your own from America. (or vice versa.)
  • (optional) cell phone. Get it unlocked before you leave.
  • maps.
  • travel book.
  • diary or laptop. (yeah, seriously, but be careful.)
  • a pen and some paper
  • a watch. analog watches can be used for navigation

augh, that’s so much stuff!!!

No it’s not. Especially if you get the REI/ travel versions of listed clothes. They pack very small. You want to carry as little of this on your back as possible, so look into saddle bags, back racks, front racks, etc. If you have a brompton, get the front luggage attachment and the back rack. There is a 28 liter bag that can go on the front and carry all of this stuff for one person with no problem. They also have bags that specifically fit the back, but 1. Your tent might not fit. 2. The way the bike folks makes this back rack hard to use, unless you’re towing a dog, in which case, you’re not folding the back up anyway.

this sounds complicated

It’s not. You’re taking all your normal tourist stuff minus a few street clothes and plus a few bike clothes. And a few bike gadgets. A lot of this stuff can be picked up as needed. I didn’t add bandaids to the list until Cola cut her foot in Berlin. (alas.)

this sounds expensive

Cheap acrylic clothes dry fast too. Buy used when you can. Borrow when you can. Silly bike clothes are more comfortable but not required by any means. (I never owned padded shorts before this summer.) Camping is really cheap lodging. You can buy food at delis and bakeries and eat it outside. Also, being on a bike means not having to buy metro or tram tickets. If you buy a used bike and sell it at the end, I don’t think this ends up being any more expensive than any other vacation.
However, budget more money than you think you’ll need. You may end up in hotels more nights than you expect and you might need bike repairs, etc.

This sounds hard

So start with an easy ride. If you follow the Loire, for example, there is always a downhill tendency, since water always flows downhill. The towns and villages are pretty close to each, so you can find lodging (although maybe a hotel) at many, many points along the way. If you have a problem along that route, the locals will help you out as much as they can. Seriously, if you do an easy ride, you don’t need to train in advance. It might be a good idea, but it’s not required. (All the usual disclaimers about seeing a doctor before starying to exercise apply.)
But seriously, don’t strain yourself. Pain is a way of telling you to take a break for a while. This is not sprinting, so you shouldn’t ‘feel the burn.’ Stretch when you stop (not when you start) to keep from being sore the next day. If you feel like you’ve pulled something, take a day or two off from the bike and walk around instead. Eat fruits and vegetables. Make sure you get enough iron, because you’re probably going to end up with a lot of bruises, alas.

Dog Travel

One of my friends here was impressed with the logistics of bike travel and the logistics of dog travel. However, neither is particularly diificult. In the interest of being informational, here are some tips.

Dogs

Documentation

First of all, get a microchip put into your dog. (In the case of pets, this is literally a mark of the beast.) Put a collar and ID tag on it too. Dogs in Europe need something called an EU pet passport. If you are in the EU, get this from your vet. If you are in America or another country, find the website for your country’s embassy/consulate for the EU member state in which you intend to arrive. They will have a form which you bring to your vet in your home country a few days before you leave. (Some countries require advanced planning in the form of rabies tests done at least 6 months before arrival. Those countries suck.) Have your vet stamp the form several times with an official looking stamp. Many European countries love official-lloking stamps and will request them whenever possible. The pet travel form is good enough for airlines. Take your dog’s pet passport with you whenever you travel.

Planes

You need a dog carrier to take a dog on a plane. Your dog is checked baggage, alas. The airline’s website will give you information that lets you figure out what size carrier that you need. Put a dog pillow or newspapers down in the carrier. Throw in a toy of some kind, like a kong stuffed with treats. You will also need hamster-style water bottles, maybe a couple of them in large dog-size. Fill one of them the night before and stick it in the freezer. Fill the other at the airport (or before you go to same). My dog had panic attacks for 2 weeks or so after fyling, but was unharmed in the long run. Do not drug your dog.

Trains

Most countries want you to buy a ticket for your dog. Alas, as far as I know, you can’t get a eurail or interrail pass for your pet. The price of dog tickets varies widly country by country. In Germany, it costs the same as a child ticket. In the Netherlands, your dog can traverse the entire country for around 3€ / day. Small dogs in carriers/bags travel free everywhere. Theoretically, you dog must be muzzled, but so far, this hasn’t been enforced in my experience. Heck, my dog is so quiet, so sleepy and blends into shadows so well, that most train conductors / passport agents haven’t noticed her at all. I hand them her ticket and they say “This is for a dog!” as if I have tried to save fare by passing myself off as a caninie.
At least in Germany, taking a dog on an overnight train with sleeping benches is insanely expensive. This may be true in other countries as well.

Bikes

This is a really fun way to travel with a dog, imo. It combines all the best things in life: dogs and bikes. If your dog is small, there exist baskets especially designed for them. There are also specifically designed trailers for any size dog. Doggy Ride is cheaper than kid trailers (that I looked at) and is a better shape for a dog. The trailer hitch will attack to almost any kind of bike. Realisticall, though, your bike should be multi-speed if you want to tow a dog. Three speeds at least. Probably more if you’re going through especially hilly areas.
I threw down a very cheap foam mat on the bottom of mine to provide padding. There is also a hook thing that (theoretically) keeps your dog from being able to successfully escape. In practice: make sure all the zippers are closed because your dog can jump out the top. Also, zip the zippers around to the top of the openings rather than leaving them at the bottom, because a dog can “dig” them open by scratching if they’re easy to reach. You dog will probably be unhappy the first few times out. I calmed my dog by asking her co-gaurdian to ride behind the trailer saying “good doggie” over and over again, which helped. Now she’s happy to jump in, but that took some time. She’s still nervous some times, alas.
The trailer folds up to a reasonable size and thus can go on any train.

Lodging

Obviously, campgrounds are fine with dogs, but most will charge a tiny supplement and demand to see a pet passport. Most two star hotel chains are also fine with dogs, but will also want a supplement of around 5€. Guides published by trourist offices almost always contrain information about whether listed hotels take dogs. Most hotels do. Most hostels do not, but some will is you are with a group that takes up an entire offered room. (ie: two of you in a two-bed room).

Stuff to bring

Aside from the documentation mentioned at the top, bring some sort of small plastic bowl that can be filled with water. Make sure to offer water to your dog very often. And obviously, it will need walks, so bring a leash and also plastic bags in case you walk it in a city. Even Paris is getting serious about making people pick up dog crap, so don’t be a part of the problem. Also, getting a ticket sucks. Also bring treats, food and a toy or two. I didn’t want to bring a whole sack of dog food, so I pre-measured many days of food into zip-lock bags and brought those. The dog could eat straight out of the bags and I had baggies for picking up after her. My first time out with the pooch, I brouht along her pillow, but it got wet in the rain and was heavy, akward and smelly. Now, I just bring a foam pad, which is lighter. I wanted to get her a thermarest, but they’re incredibly expensive in Holland. anyway, she’s happy to sleep on the foam.

Drawbacks

I prefer taking my dog with me. I can take her into almost every restaurant and even department stores. However, I can’t take her into churches, castles, museums or grocery stores. It’s ok to tie her up outside a store or a church, but she barks like crazy when left alone in a strange place, which might bother other people. And museums take too much time – I can’t leave her barking alone for hours or somebody will think she’s abandonned. I also cann’t leave her alone in her trailer, as she will destroy it by trying to escape. In the past, I have left her alone in hotel rooms, which was fine, even if against the rules. It’s also possible to leave her alone in an airline crate. Dogs find it soothing being locked in boxes and they can’t hurt airline carriers.

Is this REALLY a good idea?

Yes! Well, if you like your dog and it’s healthy. I wouldn’t bring my dog on a grand tour of European capitals because those trips are all about slogging through museum after museum. But if I want to go across a countryside from village to village (which is more fun anyway), the dog is great to have along. Also, people like dogs and it opens up communication.

i’m back

I’ve been in Berlin, Prauge and Dresden in the last week. It’s 10 hours from Dresden to Den Haag and if you have a dog with you, in order to get a sleeper car, you have to reserve the ENTIRE compartment, so unless you find 5 other people to go in with you, it’s 200 extra euros. Also, Czech border gaurds don’t notice dogs unless you hand them petpassports and if you do, they think you’re trying to pull something. Alas, pet passports don’t get stamps.

More later. I’m really tired.

Offline Blogging about France

I am sitting in a room in a hostel in Berlin. The hostel is called “Generator.” The reception floor is anti-skid polished steel, like you see on loading dock sort of area. The walls are a bright blue. There are drunk German kids shouting and running up and down the hallway. I think I may seek a different hotel come morning.

And now, back to our story

When I last left my story of my adventures in France, it was the evening of the 6th of May. On the 7th of May, I walked over to the tourist office in the morning and learned that the municipal campground for Orléans does not open until June. However, the nearby town of Olivet had camping, only 8 km away. I made a reservation and then called the campground to ask when I should arrive. 20:00. So We walked around the cool medieval stuff going on.
Medieval germans had machine-loaded cross bows. The bow was spring steel. To pull it back, two people used a winch and then one of them aimed and pulled the trigger while the other got read for the next shot. The same folks also demonstrated a trebuchet, launching a soccer ball at the cathedral. Then they set off a cannon and we had to leave, since poor Xena was ready to run all the way back to Holland from fear of the noise. As it was, she ran towards a cage bear, which she had surprising little fear of. Bears look a heck of a lot like dogs. Why haven’t people domesticated them? I want a domesticated bear for a pet!
We went to the medieval market and it was nearly identical to the year before. The same booths in the same spots selling the same stuff. I felt disappointed at first for the lack of innovation, but realized that the search for innovation and the search for authenticity were often at odds. Having it the same very year is the point. The authenticity derives from the traditionalness, which comes from slow change. So then I felt better about. Well, that and a glass of honey mead.
One new thing was a vendor of natural horn trumpets made from the horns of former bovines. This instrument is what was meant by the word “bugle” until they came to be replaced by brass version. In modern French, they’re called clairons, but in medieval French, they were called another word, which I can’t recall, but is a cognate of the English word “bugle.” They were used mostly for signaling, especially in military operations. Recall the horn of Boromir in The Lord of the Rings. They play only one pitch well and all the rest sound kind of choked. I got a zebu horn.
One of the food vendors took pity on Xena and brought her some steak. He was feeding it to her with a caution: “C’est chaud!” “It’s hot!” She swallowed it anyway. Thus, all happy, we hopped on bicycles to head for the campground, free tourist map in hand.
We followed the directions provided by the tourist office, and it looks us over streams and next to old water wheels and stone buildings and little bridged and lakes with swans and by all sorts of flowers, and woods and nature. We went back and forth down the street looking for it and then went to a small island in the middle of La Loirette, a tributary of the Loir. It was 19:40. We were standing in a shaded meadow, next to an ancient waterwheel in a picturesque stone tower. The sunlight filtered down through the trees. It was incredibly beautiful, but we were totally lost.
A man biked by and I called out to him, asking if he knew where the campground was. Luckily, he did. He told us to follow him and lead us all the way there. Morever, when I was struggling to get my loaded bike and dog trailer up a steep hill, he went into a super low mountain bike gear and pushed it along. I don’t even know his name.
The camp ground was nowhere near the location the tourist office woman had drawn on my map. It was about 5 km away from there, in fact on an island in the Loirette. The camp ground woman told us to camp in any part of of the tip of the island. It was a small green peninsula, with a picnic table, green grass, wildflowers and several trees, all of which were slowly dropping blossoms like lazy snowflakes. Some ducks were meandering around the island and quakcing, and coming up to peck around. The water floated lazily by, until disturbed by a crew team, quietly rowing past. It was entirely lovely. Xena ran in broad happy circles, pausing only to roll in the grass or chase the ducks. She was the happiest I had seen her in ages. Until I tried to get her back into the dog trailer. She trotted off, with the idea that she could avoid me by wading out into shallow water. But there was no shallow water, only a sudden drop off, so with a look of surprise, she plunged into the Loirette. She confusedly got back on the island and promptly started rolling in dust and dirt to dry off. Once this strategy was successful, I put her in the dog trailer anyway and started back to town for the evening events. She started trying to escape again and succeeded in getting half way out!
We showed up for the evening ceremony and illuminations. Like all big French public events, it started with a speech, which was pretty good about how French identity would not have existed today without Orléans in the 100 years war and Joan of Arc in particular. It went a little long. Then another speech started, so I wandered away in search of dinner. I still have never seen the illuminations.
The night parties were set to go until very late and included more cannon shots, dancers, musicians and all sorts of stuff. Some of the musicians had firecrackers, which they set off quite close to their audience. Between that and the cannon shots, Xena was terrified, so we went back to camp. I calculated later that we rode about 30 km that day, even though it was not supposed to be a biking day.

May 8

the next morning, I woke up exhausted. The ground was harder than I remembered from previous camping experiences. It had started to rain and attempts to get the dog under the rain flap had proved fruitless. The dog was wet, and I hadn’t slept much. However, the campground provided bread. They gave us 2 croissants and a baguette. It was fantastic. We went back into Orléans for the parades. We missed the start of the first one, but still got to see the traditional dancers perform with traditional instruments. We were very close to the Brittany contingent, who had an extremely loud and fun bag pipe band. The music made me feel like dancing, which is not what I ever would have expected from a bag pipe.
The second parade began with a long speech from some official about how happy he was to be in charge of things this year and probably some other points which I missed. Then a perpetual scholar in the French Academy started to give a long speech about the historical and social role of Joan of Arc and how it’s changed over the years.
this shall be continued

Back from France

I’m back and I want to share all. I wasn’t sure where to start, especially since the trip ended much as it began: biking across Paris, towing a dog, trying to make a train connection. The second trip was a bit more hectic than the first because it involved a much farther away train station, a shorter time and a case of wine. Some Parisian yelled «Bravo!» as I struggled uphill across and intersection, trying to pick up speed to make the train on time. We had an hour and 5 minutes, two foldy bikes, a foldy trailer, dirty clothes, camping gear and the aforementioned dog and case of wine. And a medieval-style bugle that I bought in Orléans. 20 minutes to unfold everything. 20 minutes to bike from Montparnasse to Gare du Nord, 20 minutes to refold. I highly recommend sprinting across Paris with so many things, especially down the hill from the Sorbonne to the Seine.

We arrived in Paris the day of the election. The streets were crawling with Gendarmes, prepared for possible unrest following the results.
First stop, was the bakery near where my apartment used to be. God, they make the best bread in the world. First thing off my bike and I step in dog shit. Yay Paris. Some older French ladies approached me and spoke to me about my dog trailer. Maybe it was the nice weather. Maybe it was the expectant air around the election, but probably it was the dog. I almost never had conversations like that when I lived there.
The streets were full of flics and first-time roller bladers. At every corner, there were grim-looking cops in riot gear and young people on wheels desperately clinging to phone poles. Xena was trying desperately to escape her trailer as we slowly crossed the city. Nicole rode behind me, repeating “good dog!” over and over again. She said the scowling gendarmes broke into amused smiles as they spotted the dog.
We arrived in Orléans later that evening and went to the tourist office, which was closed. They also had cops everywhere. I tried to call the campground listed in the guidebook, but they didn’t answer their phone. Rather than ride the 5km to the campground with the risk of having to ride another 5 km back, we went to the Ibiss, a 2 star hotel chain in Europe, roughly equivalent to the Motel 6 in the US.
And everywhere I went that day, I head over and over «C’est un chien!» It’s a dog! but I felt very proud of myself when a kid added, «C’est genial!» That’s brilliant! indeed. My goal was to take my dog with me and avoid the hassle of trying to find a sitter, but I don’t mind amusing the French also.
Over dinner, I learned that Sarko had won. I hate that guy. He said several months ago that the (poor, immigrant) suburbs should be cleaned out with a pressure hose, a comment that contributed greatly to the riots that followed shortly thereafter, leaving many cars burned. His parents were immigrants! He’s like the Ward Connerly or Clarence Thomas of France. In the time leading to the run off, he actively courted supporters of Le Pen, the ultra-right nationalist who adores Joan of Arc. Not because she was an awesome cross dresser who could place a cannon, but because she drove France’s foreign enemies out of France – you know, like um, immigrants. Because immigrants are totally against the country they want to live in (yeah, I hate France and want to destroy it). And Joan of Arc was not accompanied by a huge bunch of Scots who were also foreign and there to help her.
As I was walking back to the hotel, I heard whistling and shouts. A huge crowd of youths came up behind me on the Rue de Jeanne d’Arc. They had a bedsheet banner that had an anti-sarko slogan on it. Other folks were joining them as they marched. The joiners had their cell phones in hand and busily SMSed and called their friends to let them know to join in. (I heard one guy saying something about “le podcast.”)
as they marched down the largest street in town, towards the cathedral, under the huge patriotic banners and flags the town hung for it’s yearly festival, the older, whiter, richer Orléanaise leaned out their apartment windows and looked worriedly on the crowd below. In the expensive apartment, old white folks worried. In the street, a young, diverse crowd marched, whistled and gave speeches.
WhenI heard Sarko won, I was disappointed, but not surprised. The poll numbers were in favor of him. He was running against a woman. Her “yay I won” speech after the first round was wooden and boring in a manner unsurpassed by even John Kerry or Al Gore (although maybe Bob Dole could give her a run). But still, I hoped somehow she would win and I was angry that she hadn’t. But then, I saw these other angry kids and marched with them for a while. They were unhappy, but engaged. Their actions demonstrated hope. They weren’t in the street just because they were angry. They were in the street in their smallish town because they knew it mattered. Their participation in this semi-spontaneous march meant something, not just to them and the worried old folks, but to their whole nation.
I felt tears in my eyes. How can such a great country be so stupid? I went back to the hotel to sleep.

Classical Music in Peril!

Classical Music is dying! Fewer recordings! Fewer symphonies! Fewer jobs! And now now computers are taking our symphonies away!

Ooooo-kay. I love computer music just as much as the next guy. Actually, I probably love it more than the next guy. But Mozart on a laptop symphony? For the love of gods, why? I mean, if they were using historical tunings and historical instrument sounds, that would be cool, I guess. But modern instruments, modern tempos and equal temperment? Geez, why make music at all? I mean, I can just sit at home with my ipod if I want to be bored by classical music. This is all so . . . pathetically sad. Art music is nowhere near dead, but these guys imagine themselves at a graveside memorial, or in Dr. Frankenstein’s lab, trying desperately to create Zombie Mozart and Zombie Beethoven. Augh! Braaaaaains! D Minor Mass! Braaaains!
This isn’t even interesting as a proof of concept. Except for the MIT research. Measuring how movements and physiology map to well-known pieces could have very cool applications. But the rest of this?

For a budding composer, the economics of a virtual orchestra are compelling. Matthew Fields, who has a doctorate in composition from the University of Michigan but now works as a computer programmer and writes music on the side, has spent $50,000 on a professionally produced recording by 18 musicians. Last year, he commissioned a recording from Mr. Smith’s Fauxharmonic Orchestra for his complex six-minute work, “Fireheart,” for about $800.

As a composer, getting players interested in his work is essential for building a reputation, Mr. Fields says. Without the recording, the piece “would simply be dismissed as unplayable and unworthy of playing,” he says.

I’m sure nothing convinces instrumentalists that a piece is playable and worthwhile like the composer being forced to a computer realization that he paid out of pocket for somebody else to do. Maybe the Journal took this guy completely out of context and made him sound like a tool, but two words spring to mind there: “rich dilettante.”
Maybe he’s too busy computer programming, or maybe he’s just really unpleasant and doesn’t have any friends, but my solution for these sorts of problems has always been to write for folks that I know. And to do computer music. But not as a pathetically sad, desperate replacement for “real” musicians. This poor guy probably needs a hug right now. I hope he has a dog or a cat or something.
I used to have a small percussion ensemble. I wrote for their ability, so some parts were complex and others were not. I think it’s more useful and interesting for a composer to work with the shortcomings of what they have then to fight them. This kind of shelling out mad bucks for recordings is fighting fate.
This is not to say that performers shouldn’t get paid for their time, whether they be playing the music of reputationless composers or “less traditional pursuits, from film scoring to marching-band music.” (um, did the journal reporter fall out of a wormhole while interviewing John Philips Sousa? Since when is marching band non-traditional? Oh, those crazy experimental marching bands!)
On the other hand, if every single orchestra performance of long-dead german men were computer-realized instead of with live musicians, I don’t think I’d have too much of a problem with it. Who cares if you leave dried or fresh (or plastic) flowers at Mozart’s tomb?
So, to summarize: art music is not in trouble. Fake orchestras are not new (hello, film music). Looking for arts coverage in the Wall Street Journal is like looking for financial advice in Maximum Rock N Roll

Edit

Here is the transcript of a radio interview with Matthew Fields who seems like an ok guy, but is kind of old for the “budding composer” description. I think the Journal took him out of context.

Travelin’ / Upcoming Concerts

I will be playing in Berlin on May 18th at Zentrale Randlage as a part of a conference going that weekend. I’ll be playing tuba &/| laptop and Nick Fox-Gieg will be playing computer and doing visuals. It will be cool. Our part will only be about 12 minutes. I don’t know what time, yet or much else, really.

And I will be playing a short set of a larger “show and tell” concert in The Hague on May 24th. The venue is Verhulstpl 17. I don’t know what time yet. I’ll probably be playing some tape music, but might also do some live laptop.
I’m leaving Sunday to go to France for the Joan of Arc festival in Orleans. It turned out to be cheaper to buy something called an interrail pass instead of buying a ticket to Paris and another to Berlin. Theoretically, this means that I can go anywhere within commuting distance on the 21- 23 May or 25-27 May. Realistically, this means: Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, France maybe Denmark. It would be nifty if I could play some music someplace, since my transit is already paid, but, yeah, it’s way last minute and I’m not sure who to contact.
Xena now has a very official looking pet passport. It’s a little blue booklet with a Netherlands flag and an EU flag on it. Getting citizenship in the Netherlands is so easy for dogs! she can legally travel all over the EU (except for England). I got her a trailer yesterday, so I can pull her around with a bike. The trailer doubles as a crate/ “pup” tent. (ha ha ha). I’m now looking for a human tent. The idea is that camping is cheaper than hotel rooms. The reality is not so clear however.
Long-time readers will recall that last summer, I was planning a bike trip, but got lyme disease and had to cancel it. This year, hopefully, I’ll avoid dread disease. Nicole, Xena and I will be heading out along the Loire, following the route of Jeanne d’Arc on the the anniversary of her having travelled that way. Except she got to ride a horse and not tow a dog. On the other hand, she was wearing armor and had the constant risk of death, so I think it will be more fun for me than it was for her.