Outsourcing to Bots?

I subscribe to a publication called New Scientist, a British science magazine. It's a little pricey (because it's a weekly, unlike Scientific American), and my friend the Grump sometimes gets annoyed by its unabashed leftist political slant, and it's a bit uneven at times (for example, the current issue has a large "alternative history" section with some questionable speculations about what would have happened if (for example) Newton had not become a scientist ["there would be no computers or any other advanced electronic devices"]).

But it has three saving graces. First, it always has a few articles that are extremely interesting. Second, it has a large science "news" section with brief descriptions of new studies and findings, along with links to internet sites containing the studies themselves, so you can read more if you like. Finally, it gives one a non-U.S. view.

The current edition has an interesting article on the use of software "bots" to perform tasks formerly done by humans. The focus of the article is the use of "bots" in financial markets, where, it is said, they outperform humans:

In a trial in 2001, IBM showed that [bot] trading agents performed better than humans when they were pitched against each other buying and selling commodities. The bots made 7 per cent more cash than the humans. What's more, when humans were removed from the market so that agents just traded against each other, the average profit margin increased in a simulated commodities market.

The reason for this, according to the article, is that "people only look at three or four variables before making a decision," whereas "Bots can study hundreds, and refer back to a wealth of historical information on trading trends.

The article speculates that bots will take over more and more of these kinds of functions.

I have to wonder if it could be possible to turn Bots loose in the field of law. My sense is that because so much of law is not really law, but rather politics, which in turn is driven not entirely (and perhaps not even primarily) by rationality, but rather by the hopes and fears of the electorate, it would be difficult for a Bot. The outcome of any particular case depends not just on past precedent (which the Bot could presumably review and digest), but on the facts of the particular case, the intellectual, emotional, and political predisposition of the judge(s) deciding the case, the advocacy skills of the attorneys arguing the case, and so on. Perhaps a Bot could take all this in, but it seems to be an exercise quite different from trading in a market.

At least we attorneys hope so.

Spoofs of Proofs of God's Existence

I feel like I'm cheating when write a blog post about somebody else's page, but this one is too funny to pass on. Check out the web page "Over Three Hundred Proofs of God's Existence" for some clever, funny, and even thought-provoking (in a very negative sort of way) "proofs" of the existence of God. So, with apologies to my mother.... here are some of them.

They range from the seemingly serious:

TRANSCENDENTAL ARGUMENT
(1) If reason exists then God exists.
(2) Reason exists.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

COSMOLOGICAL ARGUMENT
(1) If I say something must have a cause, it has a cause.
(2) I say the universe must have a cause.
(3) Therefore, the universe has a cause.
(4) Therefore, God exists.And move to the ridiculous and sublime:

ARGUMENT FROM INDULGENCE
(1) Atheists like to think that they can control their emotional desires.
(2) But they're Atheists, so they can't.
(3) Therefore, Atheists feel the need to indulge in whatever they feel like without worrying about committing sin.
(4) This just goes to show how they need God in their lives.
(5) Therefore, God exists.

PROOF BY ANECDOTE
(1) God can be seen by those who believe in Him.
(2) If the God is seen, then He must exist.
(3) I have seen God.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM TORNADOS
(1) A large tornado hit Kansas City.
(2) The tornado missed a church but destroyed several hundred homes.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM PAIN AVOIDANCE
(1) If I don't believe God exists, I'll go to Hell.
(2) Please don't hurt me.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM C.S. LEWIS
(1) C.S. Lewis had a lot of good arguments in favor of Christianity ... at least that’s what all my Christian friends tell me...
(2) C.S. Lewis wrote some popular books too!
(3) So anything C.S. Lewis said must be right!
(4) Therefore, God Exists.

ARGUMENT FROM EXILSTENTIALISIC LONELINESS
(1) This can't be all there is to existence.
(2) I mean it's so horrible, pointless, brutal and nasty.
(3) It's all so depressing.
(4) I'm lonely.
(5) There has to be something else out there.
(6) I mean it, there just has to be.
(7) THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING ELSE OUT THERE!
(8) AGGGRRG!!! THERE JUST HAS TO BE!!!!
(9) God! He can be out there for me.
(10) I'm not so lonely now!
(11) Yay!
(12) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM WIND
(1) You believe in wind.
(2) But you can't see it.
(3) God's the same way
(4) It IS TOO analogous!
(5) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM TAXATION
(1) Churches don't pay taxes.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

ARGUMENT FROM GOD'S PLAN (variation of the MYSTERIOUS WAYS argument)
(1) There is a plan in the world.
(2) The existence of this plan can be seen from the fact that things are the way they are.
(3) My belief is part of the plan, and so is your non-belief.
(4) [Atheist: Why?]
(5) The plan is too infinitely great for our minds to comprehend the "why."
(6) An infinitely great plan must have an infinitely great mind behind it.
(7) Therefore, God exists.

And finally, of course:

ARGUMENT FROM MULTIPLICITY (III) (recursive internet edition)
(1) There exists a web page ( http://www.godlessgeeks.com/LINKS/GodProof.htm)
(2) That page has hundreds of purported proofs of the existence of God.
(3) They can't all be wrong.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

Via the always good and often excellent Metafilter.

The Routine

Since coming back from Paris, I've slowly fallen back into my normal routine.

Routines are very helpful. They keep us from having to rethink our schedule of activities anew every single day. If every work day I get up at the same time, drink coffee and read the paper for the same amount of time, shower and get dressed in the same amount of time, I can be safely assured of getting to work on time. Doing all the things I have to do in the morning in the same order every day reduces the risk that I'll forget something. All good things.

But routines lead to ruts. Getting up and going through my morning routine every day doesn't mean I have to eat the same things for breakfast every day, but I almost always do. It doesn't mean I have to drive to work over exactly the same route every day, but I almost always do. Ruts are bad.

Being in Paris on vacation made me realize that I have the capacity, the capability, to add small measures of variety to each day. I resolved that I would remember that when I returned, and would try to Paris-ize my life a little each day. To eat a long, different lunch. To take a walk in the afternoon. To go out and enjoy the sun, even for a few minutes.

But most days I don't remember to do that, even though Paris is only two and a half weeks distant. The demands of "real life" -- work, chores, family -- seem to have a dulling effect on my inspiration and resourcefulness. The weight of the everyday -- the decisions, issues, deadlines, and demands (even very politely delivered ones) -- make it hard to remember to surface every so often. I haven't learned how to remember to rise from immersion in my obligations to breathe every so often, out in the openness of bigger life, to remember to create some Parisian moments every day: to create Parisian moments as part of the routine.

Perhaps this represents lack of imagination or creativity on my part, some personality deficit. Or maybe it's more universal, something everyone struggles with. Whichever, I'm resolving to try to break my normal routines a little more frequently. Wish me luck -- I sure don't want to end up like my friend the Grump.

ID and the Vastness of Time

It seems the SSSBlog has inspired the New York Times! A good opinion piece appears today making one of the points made earlier in this blog, that people can't really comprehend the vast time scales necessary to make evolution work.

Heartbreak Dead Ahead

It's almost football season, and that means the SSSBlog will be living and dying each Saturday with the Univ. of Iowa Hawkeye football team. During my time in Iowa City they went 3-8, 3-8, 5-6, 5-6, and 2-9 ... ah, those were the good old days. But the past three years they've finished in the top ten nationally, and last year in their last game they beat defending champion L.S.U. on January 1 with a last second, 60-yard plus TD pass on a semi-broken play, something that just doesn't happen to the Hawkeyes.

So you see, the karma is probably used up.

They're ranked No. 11 in the country in the preseason A.P. poll. They will probably pull what we refer to as a "Squawk" -- be just good enough to make you hope that maybe, just maybe, the Rose Bowl is there for the taking, then die miserably, horribly, pathetically, painfully in a key game.

Still, we love them.

Go Hawks.

Intelligent Design and The Anthropic principle

More follow up to the earlier post on intelligent design: The New York Times published this article today discussing the substantive arguments made by the proponents of intelligent design.

Also, the fundamental idea isn't new. Various forms of the so-called "anthropic principle" have been around for many years. The principle tries to answer the question of why so many fundamental physical constants in our universe are precisely what they have to be in order for life to have arisen on Earth. In it's "weak" form, the principle merely says that the physical constants in the universe must be such that life can form in the universe, else we wouldn't be here to talk about why universal physical constants are the way they are -- not (in my view) a particularly satisfying principle, but there you go. Other "forms" of the principle go off in wilder directions, and some have used the principle to argue for some sort of intelligent creation of the universe. Good overviews are here and here.

Grump Wants His Own Blog

Give somebody a post, and all of a sudden they want everything their own way. My friend the Grumpy Moderate is feeling too big for his breeches and has decided he needs his own damned Blog. Well OK then.

His political/current events comments will migrate to a new blog, The Grumpy Moderate. My less serious, more eclectic posts will remain here on SSSBlog.

He was already getting on my nerves, anyway.

Intelligent Design Follow-Up

Inspired, no doubt, but the Grumpy Moderate's views on "intelligent design," the New York Times published today this article about the funding origins of the movement. Kudos to the professor at my old school, the University of Iowa, quoted in the article, who while apparently believing in "intelligent design," makes the same point as the Grumpy Moderate in his post yesterday:

"They're interested in the same things I'm interested in - no one else is," Guillermo Gonzalez, 41, an astronomer at the University of Iowa, said of his colleagues at Discovery. "What I'm doing, frankly, is frowned upon by most of my colleagues. It's not something a 'scientist' is supposed to do." Other than Dr. Berlinski, most fellows, like their financiers, are fundamentalist Christians, though they insist their work is serious science, not closet creationism.

"I believe that God created the universe," Dr. Gonzalez said. "What I don't know is whether that evidence can be tested objectively. I ask myself the tough questions."

The Grumpy Moderate, Post No. 1: Intelligent Design

I introduce my readers today to a new character: The Grumpy Moderate. The Grumpy Moderate is a guy (apologies to my female readers, but he's a guy) who views the news through a pane of skepticism. He's pretty bright, but thinks that intelligence is overrated. The Grumpy Moderate loves science, though. He likes to parse through the b.s., dislikes dogma and extremism, loathes pretense, likes pragmatism, and is highly suspicious of hoity-toity intellectual musings untethered from the ground of fact.

Today the Grumpy Moderate is going to go off as a result of this story, which reports that Bill Frist (that's Dr. Bill Frist, isn't it?) wants "intelligent design" to be taught in schools alongside the theory of evolution. Now the Grumpy Moderate has heard a lot about this "intelligent design" theory, but never really investigated it. What exactly is "intelligent design?" According to the Intelligent Design Network:

The theory of intelligent design (ID) holds that certain features of the universe and of living things are best explained by an intelligent cause rather than an undirected process such as natural selection. ID is thus a scientific disagreement with the core claim of evolutionary theory that the apparent design of living systems is an illusion.

In a broader sense, Intelligent Design is simply the science of design detection -- how to recognize patterns arranged by an intelligent cause for a purpose. Design detection is used in a number of scientific fields, including anthropology, forensic sciences that seek to explain the cause of events such as a death or fire, cryptanalysis and the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI). An inference that certain biological information may be the product of an intelligent cause can be tested or evaluated in the same manner as scientists daily test for design in other sciences.

The science part of the Grumpy Moderate's mind can pretty easily see the flaw in the claim that "intelligent design" is a scientific theory. It's this: The central idea of the theory of evolution is that forms of life that are more suited to prosper in a particular environmental niche will, in fact, prosper more than those that are less well-suited. The mechanisms of this process are, to the Grumpy Moderate's understanding, pretty well understood. But of course, the adaptations that cause a life form to be well-suited to a particular environment look just like the adaptations that a "designer" would "design" to make a life form well-suited to a particular environment. So the theory isn't really testable. The results are the same whether you posit a "designer" or not. Viewed another way, if one does posit a "designer," there is no way to conduct an controlled experiment in which the effects of the "designer" are eliminated from the experiment, to see if the results are the same as under the theory of evolution. If the theory isn't testable, it isn't scientific.

In other words, you have to take intelligent design on faith. The Grumpy Moderate thinks that people ought to be able to believe that some supreme designer is behind all the mechanisms that lead to the formation of our natural world. But to say that such a belief should be taught as scientific alternative to the theory of evolution doesn't cut it. Besides, the Grumpy Moderate thought that faith was supposed to transcend science.

With all due respect to Dr. Frist, of course.

The Grumpy Moderate is really digressing now, but he wants to point out that part of the difficulty with accepting the theory of evolution is that the human mind can't really conceive of the timeframes involved in its working. We can't really get our minds around the immensity of 500 years, of 5,000 years, of 50,000 or 500,000 or 5,000,000 years. The Grumpy Moderate thinks that these timeframes are so very long that it is not surprising that extraordinarily remarkable things have happened over these vast spaces by chance.

The Grumpy Moderate also wonders why this is occupying the time of the Senate Majority Leader. The Grumpy Moderate knows the answer, of course ... Dr. Frist is said to be planning a run for President in '08, and thinks this will endear him to the Right's right wing. But the Grumpy Moderate thinks that this will make most other grumpy moderates wonder if Dr. Frist is to be taken seriously as a presidential material.

France Declares War on Bullfrogs

From IOL. (Local Sonoma County angle: Bullfrogs are one of the preditors of the California tiger salamander, an endangered species whose habitat is the Santa Rosa Plain. Perhaps someday we can form a local bullfrog militia.)

Le Haillan, France - Picture this: French hunters stealing out at night in pairs, one with a torch to light up the eyes of their prey, the other armed with a .22 calibre rifle equipped with a telescopic sight and a silencer.

Their quarry? Invaders from the United States - bullfrogs, to be precise, that bellow like cows and typically weigh in at a hefty 600 grams.

This is France, to be sure, but the end game of this hunt is not sauteed frog legs.

These marksmen are ecologists, out to exterminate the bullfrogs - a.k.a. Rana Catesbeina - which are threatening the local ecosystem.

"A man living in Vayres (30 kilometres east of Bordeaux) stocked his pond with them in 1968 as a joke, and a few years later every stretch of water in the region was full of them," said Luc Gueugneau, who works in the government agency overseeing wild animals and hunting.

The bullfrogs live for as long as nine years, hibernating from October to March, but the rest of the time gorging on local frogs, shellfish, insects, and even fledgling birds, said ecologist Mathieu Detaint.

They have virtually no predators, and each lay up to 25 000 eggs a year, against 10 000 laid by the local frogs.

"We tried draining the ponds, but it costs a lot and is not efficient enough because there are always some bullfrogs that remain," Detaint said.

One thing that did work, though, he said, was trapping the tadpoles and very young frogs in nets.

Said Gueugneau: "For the moment, hunting the adults with rifles has proved to be the most efficient way of attacking them, because it gets rid of those able to reproduce."

The hunting is done at night, as that is when the frogs are most active and easiest to spot.

"We carried out five hunts between September last year and this July, killing about 120 of them," Detaint said.

"At the start, the idea seemed ludicrous, but we became convinced little by little because they allowed us to eradicate all the adults at two sites where the system was tested."

The ecologists say they a full-scale eradication programme should be in place by 2007, and hope to fully eliminate the bullfrogs in five or 10 years.

"All that I do not have bone to say to you...."

My French friend Laurence loaned me some contemporary French music from her library, and I've been listening to it in the car this past week. I finally decided to go on line to see if I could find lyrics, only some of which (very little, in truth) I could make out. I found a few lyric sites, and to get an overview of the gist of them, I ran them through one of the on-line automatic translators (Alta Vista's Babelfish was the particular one).

I've used these a few times; they often turn out hilarious, especially, as it turns out, for love songs. So I give you the Babelfish translation of Natasha Saint Pier's Tu Trouveras:

As everyone I have my dfauts I always do not have the words which it is necessary But if you read between the lines You find in my songs All that I did not know to say you There are misprints Of "I love you" a little unmethodical Malgr my clumsy agreements You will find in my songs All that I do not have bone to say to you

{Refrain:} You will find... My wounds and my weaknesses Those which I acknowledge only half-word My false step my awkwardnesses And of the love more than it is not necessary of it I am afraid so much that you me leashes Knows that if I make some always too It is so that a little you me remainders You me remainders

I am going to have to use in a song the line, "there are misprints of 'I love you,'" and the phrase "all that I do not have bone to say to you," because, well, it would be the only song ever with those lyrics.

Tu Trouveras is actually a very nice song, and once I parse out the lyrics, I'm sure they will be also. And in defense of Babelfish, it does a passable job for something on automatic pilot.

Hey Google, Get on the Stick

I'm so proud ... the SSSBlog is now in the Yahoo and Alta Vista search databases. So if you were to do a search for anything, SSSBlog would also be searched. Thus a search for "Molsberry's" (the local market in Larkfield) and "cheese" would turn up an entry comparing cheese prices and selection in Paris and Santa Rosa.

But my favorite search engine, Google, is lagging behind. It has not picked up the SSSBlog yet. Bad, bad, bad Google. No more stock offerings for you.

A technical note: For those of you having "My Yahoo" or "My MSN" pages, clicking on the appropriate button to the right will put SSSBlog feeds on your page. Those of you who have newsreaders can similarly get feeds by clicking the "XML" or "Atom Feed" buttons.

Please Use the Blog's Best Feature

One of the best features of any blog, including the SSSBlog, is the comment function. Anyone can leave a comment on any post by clicking on the title. The idea is to engage the bloggor and the reader-bloggees in an on-line conversation. Now I grant that many of my recent posts didn't perhaps lend themselves to comments (Dear SSSBlog: It would take only 275 cans of Diet Pepsi to kill me), but hopefully that will get better. So please, comment, comment, comment away.

OK, I'll Jump in the Pool -- Thoughts on Cindy Sheehan

Cindy Sheehan, as you likely know, is the mother of a child killed in the Iraq war, who has set up a campsite outside of George Bush's Texas ranch in order to get a meeting with him.

This is a serious post mostly, but I have to begin by saying that whenever I read anything about this subject, I never see "Cindy Sheehan," I always see "Cindy Crawford." No doubt that's because Bush's ranch is in Crawford, TX, so that's always the byline of the story, and the word "Cindy" always occurs in the first line, so for a long time my mind kept calling her "Cindy Crawford." Now I'm not even sure I know who Cindy Crawford is (some blonde actress, or a model?), and I'm pretty sure she has no political association, but there it is. Maybe it's the double-Cs that pull me into the association.

Anyway, as most things political today do, the Cindy Sheehan situation has generated a lot of ugliness. It isn't pretty to see the Left using someone who (admittedly, I haven't followed this closely, so go easy on this next statement) is obviously distraught and seems a little personally unsteady to further their anti-war agenda; they seem to be doing the very thing they are incensed about, fixated on their mission rather than showing real compassion for the suffering of one of their troops. And it isn't pretty to see the Right pile on the insinuation and the character assassination to further their pro-Bush agenda; this woman, after all, lost her son ... show her some courtesy, decency, and respect.

But beneath all the mud, I would think that the pro-Bush folks ought to be concerned about Ms. Sheehan's continued campaign. Because for all they can try to impugn her character, motives, and truthfulness (and again, I don't really know the facts on any of these), the fact is that she and her son's death lead directly to consideration of the single, key question that's been hanging about the Iraq War since before it began: Is it worth it? It has made me pause to ask: Is it worth my sons' lives? And that question, in turn, resonates with all the questions about validity and factual basis for entering the war in the first place. If I'm George Bush, I'm not sure, with gas approaching $3.00 per gallon and the Iraqi nation looking, quite frankly, not very trainable, that I want many people to be thinking about Cindy Sheehan's dead son and asking the question: 'Is it worth it?'

The longer an unstable situation in Iraq goes on with no apparent progress toward resolution, the more this question is going to get asked, and the more folks who are in not Left or Right, but rather folks in the middle, who up to now have withheld judgment and hoped for the best, are going to start answering "no." If that happens, it seems to me that a lot of political bets are off.

Can Diet Pepsi Kill You?

During lunch today my co-workers were making critical comments about one of my few remaining vices, Diet Pepsi. Other than the cost, I don't see that Diet Pepsi can do much harm (even though some scary web sites, including the very subtilely named aspartamekills.com, talk about brain tumors, vision problems, birth defects, hairy palms [no, I just made that up], and the fact that "Michael J. Fox, who was spokesperson for Pepsi, has an old man's disease (Parkinson's Disease) at only 30 years old" [my God, even shilling for diet soda can harm you!]).

But, it turns out that there is something in Diet Pepsi that will kill you if taken in large quantities: caffeine! In fact, some enterprising person has developed a "death by caffeine" web site that allows you to calculate exactly how much of your favorite caffeinated drink it would take to kill you. My co-workers can relax -- according to the site, given my weight, " [i]t would take 331.77 cans of Diet Pepsi-Cola to put [me] down."

Got That Straight?

For your reading pleasure, a hilarious "correction" from the Rio Grande Sun in New Mexico. Via Regret the Error.

Le Passe-Muraille

Following up on the strange statute (sort of) that we saw in Montmartre, of the man coming half-out of a wall: We visited my father-in-law in Berkeley last weekend, and he had managed to find a book of short stories containing the story of the man who could walk through walls (Le Passe-Muraille). It's fairly short (14 pages) and he says that it is easy enough that Suzie and I should be able to read it. Since the prior post didn't contain the end to the story (it unfortunately ended "unable to pass through the walls after a night of passion...."), we hope to be able to provide a complete version of the story within a few weeks.

The Blog Must Go On -- What Would You Like to See?

he trip to Paris is over. But the blog must go on! There are a ton of things to blog about, some of which are more dicey than others. But before I start posting willy-nilly, I would ask my small (but I hope growing) readership what they would be interested in reading. Some ideas:

Nuggets from the Net: While I could never hope to duplicate the excellent web site Metafilter (which I highly recommend you check out), I do come across interesting, entertaining, bizarre, funny, and obscure web sites and web news sources, just made for sharing.

Things about France: A new hobby. Whatdayathink?

Politics: Dangerous perhaps, but I'm pretty much in the broad middle (but with some quirks that would probably be viewed as "right" and some quirks that probably would be viewed as "left" but that I, of course, don't see that way). I should probably steer clear of any commentary about my local area, though, for the sake of prudence.

The Wonder of Parenthood: As I write this, my ten year old is pitching a hysterical fit, shrieking loudly and flailing his head against the floor, because he doesn't want to learn his times tables. You are dying to hear more, arent you?

Anything Else that Pops into My Head: A lot does. Some percentage of it is even fit for repeating.

So post a comment and let me know what you would like to see. And thanks to all of you who have been so supportive of the SSSBlog to date.

The Jet Lag Diet -- A Success

Before the trip to Paris, Suzie and I both tried the Jet Lag Diet, which involves alternate days of "feasting" and "fasting" and timing the intake of protein and carbohydrates so as to effect a "reset" of the body's clock to the time zone to which you are travelling. As noted here, the fast days are pretty brutal, but one of us (Steve) had great success with the diet ... relatively little jet lag upon arrival in Paris. (The positive impact on Suzie was less; she had trouble sleeping several nights and took about a week to get totally back in synch.)

I couldn't bring myself to have any "fast" days in Paris, and so bagged the Jet Lag Diet on the way back. I had read and been told that jet lag is less of a problem for east-to-west travel, but jet lag hit me in a major way coming back to Sonoma County. My conclusion from this experience is that the Jet Lag Diet really works, at least for some, and is worth the effort, at least at the beginning of a trip.

A Cow-Lossal Welcome Back

My co-workers, apparently in sympathy with the evil bovines of Flaxweiler (and also apparently having excess time on their hands), went over the top (as sometimes is their wont) and decorated my office in a cow theme. So upon my return, I found, among other things, cow prints, cow paintings, cow statutes, cow wire sculptures, cow stickers, cow posters, pictures of cows pasted over pictures of my childrens' heads, changed book and certificate titles ("Order of the Coif" to "Order of the Cow" and "The Endangered Species Act" to "The Endangered Cow Act"), cow bells, cow-moo-making toys, cows on my Palm PDA, cows on my computer monitor, a large pig sculpture with "Cow" and "Moo" written all over it (I still haven't figured that one out), and a large (real) horned cow skull, to which was affixed a post-it note reading "Don't Mess with Steve."

My ten year old, upon seeing all this, said, "Dad, they must really love you," but that's only partially true; my co-workers love odd spectacles in the office (last year's French-themed Bosses Day extravaganza being an excellent example), and the Flaxweiler cow story gave them both inspiration and an excuse. Still, it was very nice to know people were thinking of me when I was out there facing imminent death.

Jet-Lagged Reflections

We got our dog Elsie back today (thank you Tina) and tomorrow begins a new workweek, so this seemed an appropriate time for a final post on the France trip (but you never know).

***

I was constantly struck at how comfortable I felt in Paris and France, and I've come up with several possible reasons why that was so. The first and most obvious is the climate, vegetation, and countryside. I grew up in the Midwest, where it rains in the summer and is consequently very lush and green. France is the same way. The dry California summers still seem somewhat unnatural to me after all these years; in contrast, the rain in France and the greenness seemed exactly right. When we were driving through eastern France on our way to and from Luxembourg and Germany, I swear there were times when I looked out over the countryside and thought (don't laugh now) ... this looks exactly like Iowa. Well, not exactly; the hills were a predominantly a little bit more hilly, and the land was somewhat more forested, but I saw a ton of corn being grown, which made me think "home." (Quick internet research shows that France is the 6th largest corn producer in the world, with an annual production of almost 15,000,000 metric tons. This blog is entertaining and educational.)

The second was the way the French people related to us and to each other. I may have already noted this, but they seemed to me to be sort of the way I am ... very respectful of others, but a little distant; helpful and warm if approached, but otherwise keeping to themselves and allowing others their space. Once when we were on the bus coming back to the apartment, a woman who was trying to park her car apparently took offense at the bus driver and started screaming at him. Suzie remarked afterward that (1) it was the only time during our three weeks that we saw or heard such an outward display of conflict and anger and (2) everyone on our bus strongly reacted to the incident, looking at the screaming woman and talking about the incident afterward. In many American cities, I don't think most people would have given the incident a second thought. Also interesting was how quiet and orderly people were on the Metro and on the buses ... no loud talking, no loud radios, very respectful.

***

I won't do a top 10 list, but I do have some awards I'd like to hand out.

Most Unexpectedly Enjoyable Museum -- This award goes to the Musee des Arts et Metiers, the museum of old inventions and Foucault's pendulum housed in an renovated old church. Easily the most enjoyable museum-going experience (well-done and interesting exhibits, great space, no crowds, friendly staff).

Experience I Wish I'd Missed -- Versailles, hands down. Ugh. Dark, claustrophobic, excessively crowded (where's the fire marshall when you need him?), completely uninteresting from my perspective.

Best Grand Magasin -- Au Printemps. Tons of stuff, not too crowded, nice staff, great rooftop cafe.

Most Unexpectedly Enjoyable Tourist Attraction -- The Eiffel Tower. Splendid structure, great views, good workout walking to the second level. Second and third places go to the towers of Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe, for similar reasons, the towers winning out because of the much more interesting architecture and the gargoyles.

Most Ridiculous Structure -- The Tour Monparnasse, a huge, not very attractive, standard-issue high rise office building stuck completely out of context in an otherwise attractive Paris neighborhood.

Coolest Dome -- The dome of the aptly named Eglise du Dome, visible from many parts of Paris. The cool dome makes up for the excessively ostentatious interior, and the very boring tomb of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Nicest Area that Seemed to be Non-Touristy -- The suburb of Neuilly sur Seine, just south of Levellois, where we were staying (Levellois is also very nice, but Neully is a little nicer). A close second to the Passy area in Paris, where we spent an afternoon looking through shops.

Most Disappointing Area in Paris -- Montmartre. Sacre Coeur was disappointing (and a tough walk to get to) and the area surrounding it was tourist heaven, although we did end up finding an excellent, friendly restaurant there and the neighborhood outside the tourist area is very cute.

Favorite City Visited other than Paris -- Strasbourg, hands down. Very nice, interesting old section, and the immense, immense cathedral.

Most Unexpected Nice Thing -- Being invited by Laurence's parents to their house for drinks and a wonderful selection of food. Absolutely warmth.

Hardest Day -- The long, long, long drive from Freudenstadt to Paris on the back roads, through intermittent rain, followed by losing the car in the garage, not finding the right parking space, and the waterfall in the elevator.

Best Public Space -- The Luxembourg Gardens. Gloriously beautiful, and yet completely utilitarian.

Most Disappointing Public Space -- The Tuleries. The day we were there, it was windy and dusty, and the gardens just didn't seem pretty or inviting.

Glad I Went but Wouldn't Again unless I Wanted Something in Particular -- The Champs Elysee. Too crowded, not intrinsically interesting enough.

Museum that Improved Most Upon Reflection -- The Museum of the Middle Ages. I find myself thinking about things in that museum more than most of the others.

Thing I'm Most Glad I Went Out of my Way to Do -- The Modern Art Museum at the Pompidou Center. Interesting, engaging, over-the-top stupid, and funny.

***

This trip was great for my two sons. I was worried that all they would do is fight, and there was some of that, but mostly they became closer on the trip. And they were troopers, too, walking and walking and walking, and going to things they may not have wanted to go to, and not complaining much. They were almost always well behaved in public. We had told them that they were representing the U.S. while we were there, and I think they took that to heart. They were generally quiet and respectful, and were particularly great in restaurants (good table manners, low voices). On top of all that ... they had fun. What a deal.

***
Finally, and this may surprise some of you, this trip has actually made me rethink some of my political notions. It was great to be in a city that cared about its public spaces. The streets and sidewalks were clean, there were almost no homeless people or panhandlers (were were they?), almost no litter. Why is it that we can't have that in our cities? We heard some about the various taxes that the French have to pay (there is actually something called a "living tax," that has to be paid by anyone who owns or rents an apartment or home; can you imagine the government imposing a "living tax" here?), but I didn't get much of a sense of complaint about it. Why can't we have a tax system that is more rational and straightforward (particularly here in California)? Even the news broadcasts seem different there ... when I was in the airport in Cincinnati, CNN was on a TV screen, and an ad for some CNN program came on, and it was all loud and obnoxious and very insistent like THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD AND WE ARE ALL FIGHTING ABOUT THIS ISSUE AND YOU MUST LISTEN BECAUSE OTHERWISE YOU MIGHT MISS OUT AND THE OTHER SIDE WILL WIN. I didn't hear that in France. Although I admit I didn't comb the channels, what I mostly saw in France was quiet men and women reading stories and introducing quiet pieces about this and that. So here's what I'd like to see: quieter voices, cleaner public spaces, a truly gentler country. But I am not hopeful.

Back in Sonoma County, But Dreaming in French

We are back, after (once again, thankfully) an uneventful trip. We got back home about 9 pm, which means that we were up for 25 hours straight (less the fitful 1.5 hours of "sleep" I got on the flight from Paris to Cincinnati).

I am planning to post later today, but wanted to share the fact that Suzie told me that a couple of times last night, I was talking in my sleep ... in French! I think I should get extra credit in my French class for that.

Suzie's Only Post

I think that I have enjoyed the blog as much as anybody. I've been in the posts, suggested photo selections for the posts and marveled at Steve's amazing ability to turn a phrase. He has made this vacation more enjoyable for those of us on it and for all our friends who have lived vicariously through the blog. But since this is our last night in Paris, I thought I should have turn at posting a little bit of Paris, though my eyes.

A couple of nights ago, Andrew and I were talking about some of the best things that happened on the vacation. Since Andrew and I are the only ones who didn't either keep a journal of the trip (mine lasted for about 5 days) or blog the trip, I thought we should each post a list of our top 5 to 10 highlights from the vacation. Here are a few of mine, in no particular order, with Andrew's and Will's to follow:

1. Watching the boys and Carol tentatively taste and then and relish escargot, and finish by sopping up the garlic butter with all the available bread on the table.
2. For those of you who have read previous entrys, all I need to say is the "wild Flaxwiler cows." It was an experience never to be duplicated.
3. To my great surprise, I loved the Tour Effiel. It was massive and delicate both at the same time. Walking to the second level was more than high enough for me. The view was amazing.
4. Sitting one evening in some anonomyous sidewalk cafe in Paris with Steve, drinking wine and eau minerale, watching the day's light drain away and the people return home with baguettes under their arms.
5. The Musee d'Orsay.
6. Visiting my best friend Stacie from high school in Luxembourg and getting to see the fascinating multi-lingual life she is living in Luxembourg with her Finnish husband and two great kids. She speaks French with her Portugese cleaning woman, French to do her daily errands, English at work and at home, and Finnish with her husband's family. Her kids are tri-lingual as well. We were overwhelmed by their hospitality.
7. The Menagerie in the Jardins des Plantes. Because this zoo is so ancient, the cages and enclosures are really small. We saw animals that you would never be able to see up close in an American zoo. Our favorite was the oranguatang family - mother, father and toddler. The father faithfully groomed the wife by what appeared to be the human custom of popping the zits on her chin. A huge crowd gathered to watch this spectacle.
8. Le grand magasin Au Printemps. All I can say is that it is a good thing they don't have department stores this good in the US. Oh, the dishes, the linens!
9. The Coquilles St. Jacque (scallops) I had in saffron cream sauce one night with Steve in a little cafe on a leafy square in the Marais. They were accompanied by a small mound of mouthwatering julienned leeks sauteed in butter.
10. The cheese, the bread and the chocolate.
11. (Okay, I couldn't keep it to 10). The warmth and welcome we recieved from Patrick and Laurence. They invited us into their home and did everything they could to make us feel at home. We especially appreciated the lovely soiree Laurence's parents made for us. These are just the nicest people you could ever care to meet. We were very lucky to happen upon them over the internet and hope that we can keep in touch in the future.

Here are Andrews:

1. The Tour Eiffel
2. All the weapons at the Musee de l'Armee.
3. The zoo.
4. Eating the best steak in the world at a restaurant behind the Arch de Triomphe.
5. Being able to drink champagne at Laurence's parents' house.
6. Eating a great steak in Chalons en Champagne in France on the way to Luxembourg.
7. Going to the Panoramabad in Germany.
8. Staying in a cool hotel in Germany, the view and the mountains and that it had a sauna and an indoor mineral pool.
9. Listening to the Da Vinci Code on books on CD and then getting to see the Mona Lisa in person.
10. My first ride on the Metro.

Will's in order from best to least:

1. The Eiffel Tower
2. The zoo
3. Napeoleon's tomb
4. The City of Luxembourg
5. The Panaromabad in Germany
6. The boat tour of the Seine
7. The Arch de Triomphe
8. The Louvre
9. Notre Dame de Paris
10. The Pompidou Center and its modern art

It has been a wonderful experience for all of us. The bags are packed and tomorrow we go home. I think I need one last glass of wine.

Last Blog in Paris

Well, this is it, we are down to our last 10 hours or so. We have to get up at 5 am tomorrow to get to the airport. We are mostly packed and ready.

It rained pretty consistently this morning, and we thought that would keep us in all day, but it let up about 11, and we took the Metro to the Montparnasse area and walked around a bit and then had another great lunch, after which we walked from Montparnasse to the Tour Eiffel along the 82 bus route (thinking that if it started pouring again, we could sit at a bus stop and take the bus home). It never did rain again, though, and we completed our walk and then took the bus home.

Afterward, Suzie and I took our last trip into Paris proper to exchange an item at Au Printemps. As a goodbye to Paris we had drinks at the terrace restaurant at the top of the store. The sky was magnificently dramatic, dark gray and light gray and white bands, with a few holes of blue, marching across the Paris skyline. We watched a Swedish family with two boys our age have exactly the same experiences we have with our boys. We then took the Metro home.

I have enjoyed doing this blog very much. It was reinvigorated my love of writing. Some famous writer once said that the most important action a writer takes is putting his or her butt in the chair ... meaning that just starting, just doing, is the key. I'm tempted to keep the blog up when I get home, but I sense that the press of life generally will get in the way. I don't know how can I work, do chores, help with homework, practice guitar, continue learning French (oui, certainement, pour la prochaine visite), etc., etc., and find time to write much in a blog. But we will see. It has been fun. I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I have. And now, for a guest blogger....

Best for Last

We have had a request for more detailed descriptions of the food here, and today is a good day to fill that request, because we had the best meal we have had since we've been in Paris. It was a very reasonable fixed price menu of 13 euros at a restaurant called Le Reminent on the wonderfully-named Rue des Grandes Degres (sorry, Blogger doesn't do accents), roughly across from Notre Dame. The first course they called a "German Salad," and it consisted of salmon, diced pickles, a small bit of mustard, some fruit (apples, I think), and although it was not something I would have thought I would like, it was just wonderful, the flavors strong but not too strong. For the main dish, I got a light fish, which was baked and served with a light yellow butter sauce and a formed mound (that's a French culinary term) of shredded vegetables. The fish was absolutely perfectly cooked, so flakey and tender that the bites practically fell off one after the other, and the sauce was subtle and not too rich (even though it was a butte sauce of some kind). On top of the fish were sauteed onions that tasted like super-onions, intensely flavorful and sweet. The vegetables were a delicious, somewhat spicy combination. Dessert was a fresh fruit salad, light yet sweet and satisfying. We topped off the meal with an espresso (for me) and a cafe creme (for Suzie and my mom), and the whole meal was 100 euros, which in addition to the three courses and coffees included two Diet Cokes for the boys, a bottle of excellent wine, and a liter of Boudoin mineral water. The service was absolutely impeccable, efficient, friendly but not too friendly, and perfectly timed. Although it is the case that all of our meals here have been good (and some very good), this was the first that managed to leap up into the "definitely memorable" category. I should add that the other first course was tomatoes and mozzarella (spelling, sorry, no English dictionary here and it's late), the other main dish was lamb (the best I've ever tasted, honestly), and the other dessert pineapples.

So that was the highlight. In the morning, Suzie and my Mom went to a farmers market in the suburb where we're staying, and I took the boys to the Pompidou Center to see the modern art museum. I was glad I went; although some of the material was (sorry, no other way to say this) just plain stupid (e.g., the idiotic video of the Sesame-Street-like character chopping off his fingers -- oh, wait a minute, I'm sorry, that was a deep reflection on the violence in our capitalist media culture, I just was too simple to see it), other exhibits were very captivating and moving, and some ... and you gotta love this in an art museum (especially the day after all the impressionism at the Musee d'Orsay) ... some of the exhibits made me laugh out loud, in a good way. I think the boys enjoyed it too, although they were a little taken aback by some of the nudity and by the Cookie Monster look-alike chopping off his fingers. But the building was cool, and the views from the top floor were excellent.

After lunch we walked through the Latin Quarter to the Arenes de Lutece, an ancient Roman amphitheater built in the first century AD and rediscovered in 1869. It is in excellent condition, with stone seats that curve gracefully and precisely around the floor.

This evening, Suzie and I engaged in another shopping excursion (the contents of which may not yet be revealed), topped off by sharing an excellent half salad at a sidewalk cafe a block off the Gare St. Lazare. The few evening outings I've had alone with Suzie have been the best times of the trip for me, relaxing in the soft evening air and the pale, tan and gold evening light. I wish that I could bottle that feeling and carry it back home with me, for use at those times when life seems to be nothing but the grind of chore and obligation, to remember that life is sweet and good.









This last picture requires explanation. Each park has posted this huge sign with very small print, explaining all the rules and regulations of the park. My attorney friends will appreciate that the first chapter, as it should, describes what parks and promenades the rules apply to (all public gardens and promenades, and also those private gardens that have become open to the public as a matter of convention). It is duly signed by Jacques Chirac, Mayor of Paris.

Down to Two Days

We are regretting very much that our time in Paris is almost at an end.

Today was a great day, blue sunny skies, a mild wind, and cool. We slept in and left the apartment at 10, having no absolutely set plans, but thinking of going to the Musee d'Orsay, the famous impressionist museum. It was so nice and sunny outside that we waffled on going, but when we got to the museum and saw that the lines were almost non-existent, we decided to go in: a very excellent decision.

The Musee d'Orsay is fabulous. A beautifully renovated old train station, it is a wonderful space for exhibiting the impressionist works, particularly on the top floor, where natural light bathes the galleries. Because of the light and the tall spaces, the museum did not have a claustrophobic feel, even though it was fairly crowded, and it seemed to draw a much more sedate, serious crowd than we saw at the Louvre.

And the art was great. Gallery after gallery of works, mostly paintings but also sculptures, laid out (from bottom floors to top) so as to follow the development of impressionism. With the boys we had a limited time there (they were pretty good, but we know their limits), and couldn't see nearly all we wanted to see, which was a shame; we could have easily spent the whole day. I have no expertise in art whatsoever, but it is easy to see why the impressionists are so popular -- their paintings are beautiful, interesting, and emotionally evocative.

After the museum, we engaged in our second (or maybe first) favorite Paris pastime, eating lunch. We found a small restaurant that was basically a sandwich place, but that we a little more upscale (and only a little bit more pricy) and had a wider range of choices. I had a delicious quiche and salad with half a baguette; it was completely satisfying. After lunch we did more walking, with the Luxembourg Garden as our destination. The boys got boats to sail again, we sat and watched them and the other visitors, then walked to the bus stop and took our friend the 82 back to Levellois ... longer than the Metro, but much more scenic, and with no walking up and down and up and down during the correspondence.

Today's pictures are annotated!

Below, the interior of the Musee d'Orsay.


Two boys in the Musee d'Orsay.


The view of Monmartre and Sacre Coeur from the Musee d'Orsay.


A work in the museum.


Street scene en route to the Luxembourg Garden.


Chess players at the Luxembourg Garden.


The Palais du Luxembourg.


Me and the boys by a replica of the Statute of Liberty.


Andrew and his sailboat.


Suzie and Carol sharing a laugh.


My favorite bus sign. They do love (mostly small) dogs here.

(Domestic animal? Yes, if it is small and in a bag.)

Sad Commentary on Need for Caffeine

We solved the mystery of why we all felt so blah yesterday at Versailles. We usually have our coffee 1/2 decaf and 1/2 regular, but yesterday my mom dumped a whole box of straight decaf into the container from which we make coffee. So unknown to us all, we didn't have our normal morning fix. Let's see ... low grade headache: Check ... irritability: Check ... fatigue: Check. Sad, but true.

But lest you think from the last post that the whole day Tuesday was a downer, Suzie and I went out in the evening and had a lovely time. We walked and walked and then sat for a long time at a sidewalk cafe (we really are getting into the sidewalk cafe thing), and didn't get home until after dark (sadly, the first time that's happened since we've been here.) The weather has turned nicer, sunny and warm, but not humid, and that has done a lot for our spirits.

I Agree -- Off with their Heads

We took the train to Versailles today. Maybe because we are all feeling a bit worn down (I was tired and had a low grade headache, and we'd gotten up extra early), we just couldn't deal with the tour of the Chateau. Ungodly numbers of tourists, dark stuffy interiors mostly, and the famous Hall of Mirrors was undergoing renovation and thus all under wraps. So it was a downer, not worth the price of admission to have the experience we had. Besides that, it was all just too over the top. Maybe that was the point of it, but what I mostly came away with was a better understanding of why so many in the French revolution were ready to chop off these jokers' heads. I got your monster house right here, Louis.

After escaping the chateau we walked for a while in the garden (pretty, but also too much, and not nearly as beautiful as other gardens we've seen, and oh, did I mention that none of the fountains were working), then decided to escape (that's the way it felt) into the town. We found a very quiet section of town and had lunch at a Chinese restaurant (a little odd, I know, but we were wanting something different), then walked around the town. It was nice to be an area that had stuff in it (restaurants, stores, etc.) and yet wasn't quite so hectic and hustle-bustle as Paris. We then took the train and the Metro home. All in all, we found the town of Versailles much more agreeable than the chateau. A few pictures follow, including proof that we are getting a little worn down.

Translation Wanted

The explanation for this strange thing:

is apparently contained here:

Sorry we didn't get it all, but could some of our better-French speaking correspondents please post the translation of what we did get?

Merci.

Added 2 August 2005: Thanks to Paul Kay for this translation, which we have confirmed from the highest sources is accurate and "exactly the story." Too bad we didn't take a picture of the whole sign, so we could know the ending....

Once upon a time in Montmartre there lived a good man who had the unique gift of being able to go through walls easily.” A minor functionary in a ministry, he discovered this strange ability by accident, and used it first to drive his boss, who systematically humiliated him, crazy. After some successful burglaries which he signed “Garou-Garou,” the turn of the prison warden came [to be his victim]. He [the warden] couldn’t deal with a prisoner who went out each lunchtime and innocently stuck him with the check. It was love, however, that brought our hero low. Unable to pass through the walls after a night of passion…

Montmartre, Gare St. Lazare, and Au Printemps

We decided over the weekend to cancel the car trip to Normandy we had planned. Given how exhausting the drive was from Germany to Paris, and the hassles with the car, and the work of packing and unpacking everything yet again, and the constant news reports about how packed and slow the highways are because of the beginning of the vacation period (for some, and apparently the end for others), and the feeling that we were rushing to try to see all we wanted to see in Paris, we just couldn't rally ourselves to go. Maybe next time.

So today we took it relatively easy, a no-set schedule excursion to Montmartre. My mother decided to take a rest day, which turned out to be a good idea given that this was the most stair-intensive day we've had since we've been here (just to get out of the Abbesses Metro station required what seemed like a ten minutes hike up a neverending spiral staircase). The whole Montmartre thing started out as a downer ... too many tourists, a hazy day (obscuring the view), Sacre Coeur not nearly as interesting as many of the other, older churches we've seen.

But the day turned better after that. Next to the gigantic Sacre Coeur is the small St.-Pierre de Montmartre church, built in the 12th century by Benedictine monks. Much more interesting, in my opinion, although not nearly so grand. We then hunted in vain for a place to eat lunch, concerned that we'd get bad food at an inflated price in what was obviously a tourist area. We were in a Tabac getting a Diet Coke when and Suzie asked the shopkeeper what he thought the best restaurant in the area was. He directed us to the third restaurant on the left down an obscure sidestreet, the Butte en Vigne (named, we think, because Montmartre was formerly vineyards), and it turned out to be a gem of a place: a 10 euro menu with delicious carpaccio as the main dish (only later did we tell the boys it was raw meat ... eeewwww), and a delightful owner who gave us the courtesy of having an extended conversation with us in French. (As an aside, Will and Andrew are finally showing some interest in the language, and it is interesting to note that they seem to have picked up something of the intonation just from being here a few weeks.) We ate a leisurely lunch and finished off the meal with coffees afterwards (Suzie and I both agreed that we were getting into the long lunch thing pretty well now). Afterwards, we got away from the touristy area and walked into the nearby neighborhood. Charming, smaller buildings that most of Paris, and narrow cobblestone streets.

Eventually we wound our way down the hill to the Cimetiere de Montmartre, which we walked through for about 15 minutes, looking at the old tombstones and crypts. (No, Boyd, we didn't make it to Jim Morrison's grave; can someone tell me why it is he is buried in Paris anyway?). We then headed to the Gare St. Lazare, to see the trains and the scenes. En route, a downpour hit (a daily occurrence, but delightfully refreshing) that forced us into a very inexpensive and delicious boulangerie, where we refueled on pain au chocolat and more coffee (now, now, it only seems like we just ate). After the Gare St. Lazare, we headed again to Au Printemps for more shopping. At some point during that experience, I hit the wall, and by the time we got home, I was whipped.

One notable thing happened today: We ran into our first surly Frenchman. He was the cashier at Au Printemps. Suzie had brought her purchase to him, and he very gruffly picked up the box, turned it over and over, and informed her that it did not have a price tag on it (as if this was something that she was responsible for). Suzie, being accommodating, ran over and got another box, which had a tag that Mr. Gruff could scanned. But the second box was dented, and Suzie had checked the contents of the first box to make sure they were all OK (effecting a return from Santa Rosa being problematic), so she tried to ask him to put the first box in a sack rather than a second. Mr. Gruff was having problems with the sack anyway (he couldn't seem to get it open wide enough), and perhaps for that reason he simply ignored her. Finally she spoke louder and he finally acknowledged her, although it took him longer than it should have to accept the logic of what she was saying. In retrospect, I think he didn't want to deal with trying to put another box into the sack, and he was probably relieved when I just did it myself. The whole exchange was funny, and even though Mr. Gruff was, there didn't really seem to be any anger there, it was more that he was just suffering from le ennui, boredom.

Tomorrow we are up early, to take the train to Versailles.









Yes that is a black cat, which we saw in the cemetery.