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Yucks Digest V8 #7 (special content)
Yucks Digest Wed, 23 Sep 98 Volume 8 : Issue 7
Today's Topics:
Administrivia
Travel isn't what it used to be
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Date: Wed Sep 23 00:13:17 EST 1998
From: spaf
Subject: Administrivia
To: Yucks
This is a sort of special issue. I wrote the enclosed piece last year
during a long and entertaining adventure abroad. Since then, it has
been mailed to a lot of people, and I keep getting requests to send
copies to people.
So, I finally decided to include it in Yucks.
I don't think it is all that amusing, but then, it really happened to
me. Others seem to find it funny, so what the heck.
Yes, I know the verb tenses don't always match. That's because it is
various bits of email and notes stuck together and I haven't bothered
to re-edit it all.
I'll return to regular Yucks later in the week.
--spaf
------------------------------
Date: Tue, 15 Jul 1997 19:21:00 -0500
From: Gene Spafford <spaf>
Subject: Travel isn't what it used to be
To: yucks
I often find when I tell people about my travels, they express envy. They
wish they were going with me (or instead of me). This shows a certain lack
of touch with reality (especially if they think they want to travel with
me).
I enclose the following 99% true story to illustrate why you might not want
to go on these trips....
My Journal, June 14-26, 1997
My Adventures Teaching in France
-or -
Spaf and the Mosquitoes
-or -
(For Monty Python Fans) My Expedition Among the Giant Pygmies of Beckles
Prelude: I have known Gary C. for several years. He worked in
information security at Los Alamos labs. He oversaw the design and
implementation of their multi-level secure network. He's done a number
of other interesting things, including some work with Linus Pauling,
and he has served as a university professor. He also has a very good
sense of humor and displays great patience in the face of massive
disaster. This is a good thing, because it means he can work with me. :-)
Back in mid-1996, Gary contacted me with an offer. How would I like to put
a 2-week security course together with him, to be offered in France in June
1997? The class would be taught at a converted chateau in the Loire region
outside of Paris. I would be the chief instructor and Gary would be the
secondary instructor. We would only need to teach a few hours a day. They
would pay us for it, plus pay for air travel, and provide lodging for us
*and* our families. Sounded great! I signed on...
However, as time went on, many things didn't quite work out. I found
that one of my IDA sessions (described later herein) would overlap the
trip. Because of this and some other things, it didn't make sense for
Kathy & Elizabeth [spousal unit & daughter] to go with me. Other
annoyances large and small seemed to appear as time went on.
Finally, the fateful day occurred. I was keeping an electronic journal of
my trip (as I usually do on long trips) and began mailing parts of it back
to family & co-workers as the experiences became more surreal. What
follows is a merged and edited version of those daily mailings.
Day 1: Saturday the 14th. The trip began uneventfully, and I flew from
Indy to Chicago without incident. However, in Chicago we sat in the plane
at the gate for 2 hours past the scheduled take-off. Eventual reason:
several people had not boarded the plane, but had checked luggage. Those
items had to be found and removed.
I was still working on some of my slides for the class. Dinner
on the flight came, so I closed my Mac and stuffed it into the seat
pocket. 90 minutes later, dinner was cleared and I opened the Mac.
Because of some software error, it had not automatically "slept" when I
closed it. The result: the battery was so low that I had only 30 seconds
before it powered off. Result: 2 hours of work stored on the RAM disk
gone. I decided to watch the movie: My Fellow Americans - it was very
funny. Then I tried to nap, but a 7-year old in the row behind me was
doing leg exercises with the back of my seat approximately every 5
minutes...for the next 3 hours. His parent not only did not speak English,
but appeared to be in a coma for the final 5 hours. Exhausted from dealing
with a hyperactive child, no doubt.
The rest of the flight to London was okay, but we arrived late, with only
35 minutes to transfer terminals and board my connecting flight. I made it
with 2 minutes to spare. This flight was also then delayed on the ground.
I arrived in Paris 1 hour late. My luggage did not arrive at all.
Neither did luggage for over 30 other people. (I'm told this is not
unusual for British Airways.) We all spent another 45 minutes in line
for the one person at the baggage claim window.
Bad sign: "Is this the address where you will be in France? How long will
you be there?"
"12 days"
"And then where?"
"Surely you will find my bag before then!"
"Sometimes we do, and sometimes it takes longer....."
Also, because of all the delays, my allergy medicine had worn off, and all
extras were in my luggage - wherever it was. So, during the landing at
Orly Sud, both ears filled up and would not clear. I arrived largely deaf,
as well as tired and mildly grumpy.
Left customs only to find that Gary (my co-instructor and arranged
ride from the airport) was not there. I discover later that because of
the delay, he had to leave to move the car as he had parked in a 2-hour
limit area. Naturally, it had taken me 1 hour and 55 minutes from his
arrival to leave the customs area. When he eventually returned, he and
I spent an hour looking for each other in the airport without finding
each other. Sigh. How is it I am always bumping into people I don't
want to see at remote locations, but can't find someone looking for me
in a medium-size airport? Must have something to do with Murphy.
Travel to the chateau was uneventful. The housekeeper let us in. We were
the first of the group to arrive. The housekeeper, Madam Dumas, spoke no
English. Our French was barely functional. Nonetheless, we spoke loudly
and slowly for no good reason, and pantomimed necessary facts. We thus got
our keys for our rooms, where we retire temporarily: Gary to unpack, and me
to collapse and daydream about clean clothes. Then we went out to explore
some of the grounds and the chateau. It is a very nice place. Huge.
We returned to our rooms and we tried to call the baggage service at
the airport. We could only get an answering machine for the next 4
hours. Encouraging.
At this point, I am 30 hours without sleep.
The workshop organizer, Claude, arrives. He is an old friend of Gary's
and speaks very good English. He tasks the housekeeper with calling
the airport every 20 minutes to try to find out about my bags. He also
contacts a local pharmacy where they offer to provide me several days
of replacement of my medicine, so if my bag remains in limbo.....
We depart for a nearby town, Dourdon, (this chateau is in the middle of
nowhere) for an 8pm dinner reservation, and to visit the pharmacy. We
promptly got lost. We eventually found the pharmacy...at 9pm. I got my
medicine, and we decided to head for dinner. We asked for directions to
the restaurant, as Claude lives in Paris and does not know the area. We
promptly got lost again. We arrived at the restaurant at 9:45. They still
seated us (thankfully).
Dinner was magnificent. If only I could have heard the conversation and
not sneezed all the way through it.... Sigh. Dinner was pigeon roasted
with apricots and wild asparagus. Dessert was an apricot tart. We
finished at 11pm local time. I had now been up 36 straight hours.
We returned to the chateau. No bag. I borrowed a clean shirt from Claude
so when I started class in the morning, I could at least look partially
presentable.
I slept well except for the French mosquitoes - they kept buzzing with an
accent. (Chateaus weren't built with window screens!) This caused me to
awaken every hour or so.
Day 2, Monday: The day started off mixed - it was clear I had another one
of my ear infections caused by the backup in my ears from the landing; I
still couldn't hear out of one ear. Luckily, I brought "just in case"
antibiotics in my bag...which was delivered during breakfast! Yea! I
quickly changed clothes, popped lots of pills, and went to class.
The class went well, except by the end of lecture hour 4, I had lost my
voice. I had been speaking a bit more slowly to give the students time to
adjust to my "accent" - most of them do not practice their English
extensively, so this was listening to a lecture in a foreign language.
I checked my mail via the local Ethernet connection. It worked fine to
my Mac...xcept there were 280 messages waiting from only 3 days away.
It took 30 minutes to download (over a slow 28Kb link). 234 of the
messages were from my workstation security software complaining about
connections to the tftp port. A certain grad student was attempting to
install a new machine in the lab that was repeatedly broadcasting boot
requests, and my workstation responded to each and every one as a
potential break-in attempt, logging as it went.
Day 3 in France. I stayed up late the night before putting together the
slides for today's lectures. I awoke at 6:30. This was exactly like being
at home: I was at a keyboard until after midnight, and suffered sleep
deprivation! I slept through the night, however - I had gotten used to the
mosquitoes' accent.
Breakfast was buffet style again. The French seem to eat cheese at every
meal. The thought of Brie with cornflakes did not fill me with awe,
although I do wonder at the digestion of the French people. Assuming that
cheese affects them like many other people, the need for wine at every meal
may be to dull the effects of chronic constipation. Still, the group there
was a cheery lot. They were laughing and telling stories at breakfast. I
understood about every 8th word, as it was all in French. Unfortunately,
those were not the funny words, so I had to improvise the plot. I assumed
they were laughing at me for not having cheese with my OJ and coffee.
The class was mostly uneventful. I spoke for 4 hours, 2 in the morning and
2 in the afternoon. Luckily, I had a break in between where I had lunch
and then took a short nap. It was perhaps the effect of the wine at lunch,
but I had strange dreams. In one, I was being asked some question by a
beautiful French woman, but I could not understand what she wanted. I
awoke with a start to realize I had overslept and not set an alarm, and
someone was knocking at my door, asking something in French. I opened it,
still somewhat groggy, to find (what I assume was) the cleaning woman
standing there with rubber gloves that went past her elbows, a mask, and a
bucket full of brushes. I do not know exactly what she asked - I made out
"do you want me to..." (in French) and several words I did not recognize,
followed by "salle de bain" (bathroom). I think she was asking if I wanted
the room cleaned, but I could not be sure. I said "Non, merci" and shut
the door. Had I said "oui", it might have turned out that she was really
there to initiate me into some odd French club I would rather not think
about - those gloves were scary. I resisted asking anyone else if they saw
her, for fear that everyone would deny it. And then laugh about it over
breakfast the next morning.
I dashed down to the classroom, arriving 5 minutes late for my second set
of lectures. It had started raining, so I also got wet on the way to the
classroom. The afternoon lectures went well, despite the fact that while
trying to illustrate a point about simple cryptography, I failed three
times in a row to write the alphabet on the board. I missed a letter each
time. Claude, the person running the class, left the room at this point
and returned with a glass full of coffee. Everyone thought this was
funny. I did too. It helped. I got the alphabet on the 4th try.
My lecture ended almost exactly when my voice gave out (my ear was
returning to normal, but I still had a sore throat). Gary did his lecture,
and we went to dinner. More wine. More cheese. And chocolate....which I
spilled on my white pants. When I return home, I think I will replace my
wardrobe with vinyl and then Scotchguard it. Some people collect
postcards or pictures as souvenirs of places visited; I collect food
stains.
I went into the bathroom to try to wipe some of the chocolate off before it
set. I miscalculated the amount of water in the towel. The result? A
large wet spot on the front of my pants that showed up all too prominently.
I debated whether it would be more embarrassing to loiter in the men's
room, trying to look nonchalant, or to try to pass through the dining area
and head up the stairs to my room, acting as if nothing had happened.
While trying to decide, the majority of people finished dinner and decided
to go outside for a walk, or to the classroom to see a video demonstration.
I took the opportunity to quickly head to my room, raising only a few sets
of eyebrows on the way. Tomorrow at breakfast I will ask what the French
words are for "prostate problems."
It was now 11pm. My pants were dry, and I had finished reading all my
e-mail. I now needed to prepare my slides for tomorrow's lecture. Sigh.
I was the only person in the terminal room. I was not alone, however.
There were mosquitoes to keep me company, and a very confused honeybee.
Why this bee was awake this late at night, I do not know. Perhaps she had
too much French coffee (which is much, much stronger than US coffee). I
know I had.
Well, here I am in the terminal room, typing this as an excuse to avoid
preparing my slides for tomorrow's lecture. Only one other person is here
in the room this late (11:55pm), but he seems to live here. (Note to self:
ask tomorrow for the French word for "geek".)
Day 4: Today was a lovely day. I only lectured for 2.5 hours, and had some
of the afternoon free. At lunch, I had several people telling me the
French names of the various foods we had been having. The people I was
sitting with did not know much English, and I know little French, so we
exchanged vocabulary words. I then asked if anyone knew what kind of grain
was growing in the nearby fields we had passed on the way in from the
airport. I knew it was not wheat. Much debate ensued, including the
fetching of an encyclopedia, two dictionaries, the kitchen staff, and
people from other tables. The conclusion was that it was l'orge. This
didn't help a great deal until more debate and research revealed l'orge to
be barley. So, I naturally asked if beer was brewed locally. More debate
ensued, with several people acting confused - why would I want beer with
all the wine? Eventually, I dropped the topic.
After lunch, I got talked into taking a bicycle ride into the countryside.
They set me up with a bike and we adjusted the seat and handlebars as much
as possible. The frame was a bit too high for me, so I tried to explain to
my companions not to go anywhere that might result in a quick stop with me
coming off the seat - if I landed with both feet even, they would not quite
touch the ground. This, of course, would mean that I would be riding the
frame (momentarily) and delivering all subsequent class lectures (if I
regained consciousness) in a high soprano. Although I did not use those
words, they all smiled and nodded and said it would be okay. I now suspect
that they thought I was asking if it was a mountain bike and okay to take
it over bumps.
So, we set out. There was a nice breeze, and the sun was out, We took the
main road through town, and a side road off through the fields, then a
turn, then some other turns, then suddenly we were a long way from town and
the road became a dirt road. Then it became a dirt path. Then it became a
muddy ditch through the field. I was fearfully trying to keep the bike
moving so I would not fall in the mud, whilst also trying to avoid potholes
that would lead to a sudden stop, both of the bicycle and subsequently of
my interest in one-third of wine, women, and song.
We came to a dry spot in the middle of the "road," when the leader stopped,
jumped off his bicycle, and ran into the field. I thought either he had
lost his mind, or else had too much to drink at lunch. Instead, he grabbed
a handful of plants, came rushing up to me shouting "L'orge!" The bicycle
route was to give me an up-close and personal look at the barley. I tried
to look thrilled.
So, we got back on the bikes and continued on our way back to the chateau.
About this time I noticed that the front tire on my bike was partially
flat. It evidently had a slow leak. Ever try peddling through a field
with a flat? I definitely got some exercise. By now, the day seemed
quite a bit warmer, and the chateau seemed a long way off. But, with some
persistence, we finally found a good paved road through the fields on the
way back.
Everything seemed fine until the fields changed on either side to some
other crop -- one that evidently was spawning ground to trillions of little
green mayfly-like insects that were swarming the air above the field. This
was first noticed when zooming along, I took a breath with my mouth open
and thought the air tasted a bit funny. I also wondered why my glasses
were suddenly getting dirty. Luckily we cleared the area in about 30
seconds. Unluckily, hours later I still hadn't cleared my beard, shirt, or
hair of the little devils.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon cooling off, reading, removing
insect parts and even took a little nap. I felt much better when I went to
dinner. Then I was again faced with a marvel of French digestion -
everyone got a huge helping of lentils with a pork chop for dinner (plus
more cheese). I became quite apprehensive about entering a closed room the
next day with 45 people who had eaten about 50 kilos of lentils. However,
trying to look on the bright side, the experience might give me an
opportunity to learn some new French words not found in the usual
dictionaries for travelers.
After dinner, I did a tour of the chateau again, and this time walked
through the (dry) moat. The chateau has some interesting features, not
least of which are several (now closed) formerly secret tunnels that led
under the wall from the chateau into town. These were used by the former
resident to visit mistresses in town discretely. Darned clever, these
French. I could be inspired to dig tunnels from my basement, except town
is 3 miles away from my house. Curses, foiled again!
I also took the opportunity to catch up on my e-mail. That gave the
mosquitoes an opportunity to visit with me further. Based on my experience
with them and scratching myself, I wondered if the chateau's former
resident was using the tunnels to hide from the mosquitoes, or seek out
someone in town with more effective fingernails (now I understand Casey's
manicure - she lived in France for a while! [Casey is one of the students
in my lab at Purdue with extraordinary fingernails.]).
With that, I went back to my room to comb more mayflies from my beard.
Day 5:
I received the following email this morning, and my reply is enclosed:
At 7:30 PM -0700 6/18/97, Andra Short-Nelson wrote in "Re: Day 4 comes to a
close":
> Don't fraternize with the mosquitoes
Unfortunately, the French national motto is (something like) "Libertie,
Egalitie, Fraternatie". For those of you who don't speak French, this
translates as "[Mosquitoes] the size of eagles are at liberty to fraternize
with you." However, I have discovered that a poultice of Brie and Perrier
helps stop the itch, although this provoked yet more discussion at the
breakfast table. Thus, I learned some more words in French corresponding
to "eccentric" and "loony."
Cheers,
-spaf
I had trouble sleeping last night, possibly the result of my force-feeding
of mayflies. Anyone know if they have a high caffeine content? I kept
having strange dreams. Once I thought I awoke to find the bedclothes
hovering above my bed. I went back to sleep deciding either I was
dreaming, the chateau is haunted, or those certainly were strong lentils
for dinner. In the morning, things seemed normal again.
I awoke somewhat sleepy. It was gray and rainy outside. This matched my
initial mood. Claude, the director, said he had spoken with the
housekeeper. If Gary and I would put our dirty clothes on the beds before
the rooms were made up, then the staff would wash them for us. This would
be a big help, because otherwise we would be wandering the countryside over
the weekend with bags of fetid laundry, accosting passers-by with "Pardon,
ou sont les Maytags?" Although this can be very amusing, I spent enough
time doing that as a grad student (but in English) that I could avoid it
here. Unfortunately, as I write this journal entry, it is now midnight
and the laundry has not been returned. I hope this was not some practical
joke on us.
The morning lectures went well, and I almost finished on time for a change.
I read some, then took a short nap. After lunch, I lectured some more,
returned to my reading in my room, and fell asleep in the chair. I awoke
in time to call home, spend 2 hours preparing my handouts for the next day,
and I read some e-mail. The first message waiting for me was the "quote
of the day":
> "That proves you are unusual," returned the Scarecrow; "and I am
> convinced the only people worthy of consideration in this world
> are the unusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves
> of a tree, and live and die unnoticed."
>
> - L. Frank Baum, The Land of Oz
I am unsure if this is comforting or not.
Dinner was some form of ham-filled ravioli. I managed to not spill any on
my new shirt, but I did tip over the bowl on the tablecloth. The reaction
of the people at my table was to pour me more wine. C'est bon! I
resolved not to have anything off the cheese plate at the end of the meal.
So of course, dessert was cheesecake.
After dinner, several people invited Gary and me to accompany them to
Chartres, which is nearby. They were going to hike around the cathedral
there. They were sure the cathedral would be closed at night, but
nonetheless I thought it would be nice to go see - I love visiting old
churches and castles when I am in Europe.
The trip was uneventful, although the hike up the hill to the cathedral
reminded me that I am neither so young as I once was nor am I in quite the
best of physical condition. Let's face it, I am becoming an old fart far
more quickly than I would like.
The cathedral In Chartres is on the top of a high, steep hill in the middle
of town. It is a thing of great beauty. Parts of it are over 800 years old
and built in the Romanesque style, and other parts are in Gothic. It has
dozens of stained-glass windows, and lots of ornate carvings inside and out.
As we walked around the church, we heard music. We found an open door. We
went in. There was a free concert being given! The French Air Force
Symphony Orchestra was in the nave, playing pieces from Russian composers
(some of my favorites): Tchaikovsky, Borodin, Mussorgsky, Shostakovich. We
entered to the beginning strains of "Pictures on Exhibition." Magnifique!
We wandered about, sightseeing in the cathedral and listening to the music.
Then we simply stood and listened until the accumulating effects of all the
wine at dinner forced us to leave and find a building with plumbing. It
was wonderful (the music, not the plumbing - that was merely a relief).
Nicole (the driver) then bought us a round of drinks in a nearby pub. I
had a Belgian cherry beer, mostly for the heck of it. It was quite amusing
and rather enjoyable. The whole evening almost made up for all the
mosquitoes. Almost.
We got back to the chateau at midnight, only to find that I had not plugged
the charger all the way in to the powerbook, the battery had run down, and
the machine had powered off. As had the RAM disk. Containing my slides
for the next day. Sigh. Another late night awaited. Something had to
happen to make up for the magic of the concert. I resolve to cease using a
RAM disk on this machine.
Tomorrow, everyone will leave for the weekend, including the housekeeping
staff. Gary and I will have the place all to ourselves (except for various
insects and birds). Tomorrow afternoon, we will embarrass ourselves by
going into town and trying to buy some groceries for the weekend. I sure
hope my laundry gets returned unharmed and without a ransom. So far this
trip, it has done far more traveling than I have.
Day 6: I awoke Friday morning feeling pretty good. I had a good night's
sleep, and was facing a free weekend. The night before, I had discovered
how to foil the mosquitoes - pull the sheet up over my head to go to sleep.
Provided they feed us no more lentils, this approach may work. The
mosquitoes here aren't like backwoods US mosquitoes that can bite through
sheet aluminum as an appetizer. However, these French mosquitoes must be
the patient kind - they waited until some time during the night when I put
my hand out. I now have a half-dozen spots on my left wrist and hand where
the little buggers found me.
Other than that, Friday went well. A short lecture on integrity methods,
and then a morning free. My package from home arrived. I had forgotten a
few items at home, including an instructional videotape and some t-shirts
to wear. So, I had sent e-mail to ask Kathy to express the videotape for
class, wrapped in a T-shirt. So, I was eagerly awaiting the package so
that I could maybe go out to bicycle some more without fear of ruining a
good shirt with more bug collisions. I also needed the shirt in the event
my laundry was not returned.
Now, to appreciate the irony of the following, you need to understand the
class. The group of 40 students here are mostly security administrators
and managers for the French national power company and of the nuclear
research agency. This is the group that not only generates the
electricity, but also does research and management of France's nuclear
materials -- including weapons. They have an important job, and they take
it seriously. They are also a bit paranoid by profession. So, you can
imagine why I won't be out bicycling with the T-shirt that Kathy had
randomly selected for me - one I had obtained as a souvenir of sorts, with
the CIA seal large and in multicolor on the front. Sigh. I hope it was a
random selection and not an indication that Kathy has ulterior motives to
collect on my life insurance.
The group largely left for the weekend. Gary & I were left on our own
until everyone returned Sunday night. The staff left, too. They left us
keys, some kitchen items, and other things. However, we had to get our own
meals out in the countryside. Luckily, before everyone left, our laundry
was returned. I felt guilty about making the jokes - they had even ironed
my pajamas. Now if only they hadn't starched the underwear....
We decided to do some work, and went into the computer room. The network
was supposed to be up for the weekend. We worked until 7pm, at which point
the network connection to the Internet went down and would not come back up
The telephone number that was left for us as the network operations center
didn't work, either. Sigh. We resigned to head off to dinner.
We got in the car and drove off to Ramboullet (a town the size of West
Lafayette) that was about 10 miles away. There, we chanced upon a bakery.
We entered, spotted some plump, helpless croissants for Saturday's brunch,
and captured them without incident. I conducted the entire transaction
with the clerk in my somewhat questionable French. Surprise! We were not
served inner tubes with sauce, but actually got what we wanted and left. I
felt pretty good about it.
Next, we drove through the town center until we found a small bistro with a
Western (US) motif on the sign, but distinctly French food. Other good
signs - they were still open, they took American Express, a reasonably
well-dressed couple were emerging with smiles, and there was parking
nearby. As Gary and I were both in need of plumbing facilities by this
time (a recurrent theme in our trips offsite, it seems), we resolved to
accept fate (and the departing couple's parking spot).
The menu was prix fixe. The 146 franc meal was our choice, with some
variation within. I selected the salmon salad and the roasted lamb. Gary
ordered the toasted goat cheese salad, and veal with paprika. I was
pleased that our French had gotten us this far without obvious difficulty,
when the lady taking the order asked me (in English) "So, do you want the
lamb medium or well-done?" I guess her ears had been tortured enough by
that point... We finished the meal with a raspberry souffle. It was all
excellent.
We returned to the chateau at 11pm. The network was still down. I managed
to get a quick connection via the phone to download a few important
messages, and went to bed.
Day 7: I awoke to overcast and chilly weather...around noon. Wow! I guess
I was behind on sleep! Gary was feeling a little under the weather, which
was not good considering the low-lying clouds there. We were going to head
into Paris for the last weekend of the famous air show at Le Bourget, but
decided the weather and Gary's condition weren't up to it. Instead, we had
a little late brunch. It appeared someone else was staying at the chateau
for the weekend and ate one of the croissants. Either that, or the
mosquitoes also like chocolate croissants.
Luckily, the network was back up, so we spent the next few hours online.
Around 3, the weather cleared for a few moments, so we decided to get some
provisions and lunch. We got in the car and drove about 3 miles to the
tiny hamlet of Ablis. They had a small supermarket. We stocked up on some
salad fixings, bread, Kleenex, and wine. We even got some cheese ("Here,
try some - it's not a pod.")
It was a great language lesson walking the aisles, looking at the pictures
on the cans and boxes and reading what they were. It was also tempting to
buy various people souvenir cans of rabbit liver pate and pickled goat
offal, but Gary restrained me. Gary tried to pay with a 200 Franc note,
but the clerk wouldn't take it because it was a an old-style note and quite
worn. So Gary gave her his Visa card. Unfortunately, it is a US Visa card
without an embedded smart chip, so the standard card reader wouldn't take
it. The clerk apparently had never seen one of these before and was
convinced by this point that we were some kind of criminals trying to
commit fraud. She really appeared ready to panic. Luckily, the other
clerk came over and showed her how to ring up the "old style" cards. Our
clerk didn't even bother to have Gary sign the slip - she just threw the
slips in the bags and turned her back on us to wait on the next person in
line. We walked out under the watchful gaze of the manager and another
clerk. Probably suspicious we didn't buy far more cheese....
After we returned, it started raining again. We had a lunch and Gary took
a nap. I caught up on some reading. During a break in the weather, I took
some pictures of the chateau and grounds, including the moat (I had the
electronic camera with me). About 10 minutes after I snapped the pictures,
a thunderstorm moved in. [pictures shown separately] Gary was taking a
nap.
I was unsure what the rest of the weekend would bring. I soon found out -
rain. Gary awoke from his nap with a slight fever, and feeling worse, so
we decided to stay in for the evening. That meant more salad, more bread,
and (shudder) cheese. I spent the evening going through papers.
Day 8: Sunday morning brought more chilly weather and rain. Gary was still
not feeling too good, but he seemed to be improving somewhat. Around 2pm,
we went out for a walk all the way around the chateau grounds. Originally,
this occupied several hundreds of acres of woods and farmland (or more)
enclosed in a stone fence. When the estate was purchased by the electric
utility and INRIA (roughly the French NSF), they didn't buy the majority of
the property. Only the house, the chapel, the dove cote, the tennis
courts, the swimming pool, the two gardens, the billiards house, much of
the woods, the strawberry field, the gymnasium, and about 30 acres of
forest. You get the idea. We spent nearly two hours exploring, with
plenty of stops at the berry bushes and to socialize with a small burro
kept on the farm portion of the estate. We also somehow encountered a lot
of mud. I now appears that I will need to surrender some of my clothes,
and my white pants in particular, to the laundry yet again.
Poor Gary was done in by our trek. So, he went to take another nap. I, on
the other hand, changed into my nifty CIA t-shirt, and went down to the gym
to injure myself. No, actually, I didn't. I spent 45 minutes getting
warmed up and stretched out. 30 minutes on the exercise bike was enough
for one day, although I didn't feel any thinner. The only way I will get
skinnier on this trip is if the mosquitoes bring large friends. (Several
jokes, some in dubious taste, elided at this point.) I returned to the
house to shower, call home, and awaken Gary for a trip back to Rambouillet
for more adventure.
After being stuck in traffic for about 30 minutes along the way, we drove
about and ended up at a restaurant connected to a hotel. After looking at
the prix fixe menu, I decided to order ala carte. I got an avocado and
salmon salad, and beef strogonoff. It was quite good. Meanwhile, Gary
decided (under the influence of cold medicine) to try ordering the items
whose names we did not recognize and could not find in the dictionary. He
ended up with grilled chicken esophagus on lettuce (really) and country hog
blood sausage. He set about eating it, and his cold may have helped, but
he remarked that he now knew some things he would not order again. So much
for experiments! I really, really tried not to gloat about my food.
Luckily, Gary's ears were stopped up so my lip smacking and "ummmm" noises
didn't distract him. However, the people at the table across from us
looked at me as if they thought I was having a seizure. So they would not
get the wrong impression about Americans, I told them "This is so much
better than back home in Canada, eh?" (I know my assistant Marlene
appreciates this story almost as much as they did [she's from Canada].)
The meal marked a milestone of sorts. I ordered everything in French, and
got exactly what I ordered without odd looks (well, no odder than the looks
I get everywhere I go). I didn't have to point at the menu and make
whimpering noises. (Well, I didn't have to, but I wanted to - the people
at the next table would enjoy it so.) I also managed to understand all of
the questions and comments by our waitress, asked about using a credit
card, and then asked directions to the rest rooms - all in French. I
understood the answers, and all went well (I think - some French plumbing
is still sometimes mystifying and I do hope that really was the rest room).
With some time and practice, I might be able to pass as a French-speaking
idiot instead of a moron. This realization, inexplicably, cheered me up.
We returned to the chateau, where Gary went to bed after taking more OJ and
vitamin C. I stayed up for a while and got my presentation ready for the
next day before midnight Odd, for me. Then, of course, I couldn't get to
sleep. Despite a sleeping pill, some melatonin, and insect-induced anemia,
I couldn't drop off until after 4am. So, I was really fried when the alarm
went off at 7am.
Day 9: Monday morning it was...cold, rainy, and thunderstorms were in the
area. Fun. However, the day went reasonably well. Gary was feeling
better. I lectured, took a nap, had lunch, and did my slides for Tuesday.
Then I took a walk (between the rain showers). Then I tried to read my
mail. All went fine for about 20 minutes. Then, uh-oh. The network
kept going down. Then the storms took out the power for a few minutes.
When it came back, I discovered that the crash had happened at a
particularly indelicate time for my e-mail - it had trashed my mail file
back at Purdue, left a spurious lock file, and otherwise caused a mess. I
couldn't stay logged in for more than 30 seconds because of the network
problems, so I finally called staff at the university to fix it for me.
I ended up dialing in to fix it myself as Adam apparently got sidetracked
with something else. Not enough disk in the mail spool complicated the
problem -- despite my assiduous reading (and deletion) of my email, the
mailbox continued to fill with items I needed to save until my return to
Purdue. So, I spent a while reconfiguring my mail spool.
I was told tonight that they are having a big party for everyone in the
class. There will be a big barbecue, music, and guests from Paris coming
in. They are even stocking extra cheese. It should be great fun.
Except....the party is Thursday night, and will take place while I am
somewhere over the Atlantic on my way to Washington for my next week of
follies. Somehow, it figures. I hope they are all savaged by the hordes
of mosquitoes that have been raised from my premium AB-. It would be
poetic justice.
Day 10: Tuesday was rainy. Again. Uneventful, too. Gary was feeling
better. I, on the other hand, had a terrible headache. Cheese withdrawal?
After I taught at 9am, I took a nap. I felt better after I woke up. I
tried the network again, but it failed to work. So, after lunch, I tried
dialing in. I got a fairly good connection, and downloaded a lot of mail.
Included was news of action in the US Senate on a surprise bill putting
onerous regulations on cryptography. The USACM was going to respond to
this, and I was asked to help write the letter. I did so, and that took
up most of the afternoon to edit.
The network was still down, so I dialed in. While the mail was
transferring, I set the call to auto-disconnect when done, and stepped out
of my room to get a cup of coffee. I was accosted by one the students, we
got to talking, and I returned to the room an hour later after having
forgotten about the connection. It was still going! Several people had
sent me very large files, and I had forgotten about the spooled message
with the on-line pictures from yesterday. Merde! That should be an
interesting phone bill....
The meals were unremarkable today. I simply drank lots of wine, and threw
caution to the wind and had two pieces of cheese. Then dessert arrived.
Another marvel of French cuisine. Cheesecake with a thick layer of prunes
across the top. I was glad this was being served days before I get on the
plane!
The evening was taken up with preparing final slides, doing some more
reading, and visiting with several of the people here. Boring, but I
didn't have much choice in the matter.
Day 11: Wednesday, it rained. Again. After class, I worked on email and
slides. The network was still unusable, so I used the dial-up, again.
Gary came by to tell me that his wife and daughter had arrived, so he was
going to pick them up at Orly airport. He would miss lunch. I was
jealous. (No, not that he missed lunch - that he will get to see wife
and daughter now, and I have over a week before I get home again.)
Lunch was stuffed halibut fillets and fermented cider along with the wine.
Very interesting. I spent the afternoon talking with some of the
students, and sorting through more e-mail. We tried to run some tests on
the network but got no clue about the problems.
Chris (Gary's wife) brought a bag of chips and some hot salsa with her. We
set those out on the table in the lobby before dinner and watched people's
reactions as they tried it. Some are unfazed, and a few liked it. Others
hurried into the dining room for a drink of wine. In conversation with
several people they tell me that they have not been bothered by the
mosquitoes. Apparently they have all been directed to my room instead.
Dinner started with whole, steamed artichokes of incredible size. This
was followed by pork cutlets and various other items. Gary's daughter was
sound asleep, recovering from jetlag, but his wife Chris joined us. She
informed us that it was Gary's birthday! He never let on, the sneak. We
let him have the first choice of cheese as a gift.
After dinner, a line of students formed with copies of my books. They
each wanted an inscription and an autograph. It was amusing, and they were
somewhat embarrassed. However, I was happy to comply - they have all been
quite friendly and helpful during my stay.
Afterwards, a group of them dragged me off in the car to the nearby town of
Dourdon, where there are the remains of an old castle built starting in
900. It looks much more like a castle than this chateau does. I managed
to read the entire historical plaque except for 3 unfamiliar words. Two of
them we needed to look up in the dictionary because no one in the group
knew the English words for them (and I cannot remember them now, either).
11pm. We returned to the chateau in a pouring rain. Someone downstairs
said that Jacques Cousteau died today. Probably from all the rain, but I
don't volunteer this little bon mot. I passed around my picture of
daughter Elizabeth. Several people agree she appears "coquin." My
dictionary translates this as "mischievous." I guess the picture really
captures the real "her." I will check the network one more time and then
partially pack my bag before going to bed.
Tomorrow, Claude will drive me to Orly immediately after my lecture ends.
I then fly to London, and thence to Washington. I get in at Dulles at
7:10pm and probably into the hotel around 8:30. At 7:15 the next morning,
I have to board the bus with the IDA group, destined for Aberdeen Proving
Grounds. Some fun. As I have only 1 hour transit time in London, I am
taking a change of clothes, medicine, and toiletries in a carry-on. That
should guarantee that they DON'T lose my luggage this time!
Next week is all meetings in and around Washington, and largely (but not
totally) boring stuff. Unfortunately, I will miss Elizabeth's 4th birthday
Sunday while I am in DC. I told her we would have fireworks the day after
I get back home. Luckily, I am returning on July 3rd.
Day 12: I could not sleep last night, so at 2am I got up and packed my bag.
Then I was able to get to sleep. When the alarm went off, I almost shut it
off and went back to sleep. Instead, I rolled out of bed, opened the
shutters, and saw another rainy day. Wondrous.
Class consisted of me lecturing for two hours on the future of information
security. Unfortunately, I see some real problems ahead, so this was maybe
not the cheeriest thing to lecture about. However, it was a logical last
lecture. Then, I said farewell to several of the students and got my bags
out to Claude's car.
I was happy to be headed closer to home, but a little sad, too. It is
"folk wisdom" from people in the U.S. that the people in France are a
little rude or cold. My experience has always been different, and this
trip was no exception. The French are a little more reserved with
strangers, perhaps, but everyone I met was friendly, courteous, and
exceedingly helpful. Every single person I met in the class or elsewhere
was polite (except the one store clerk), and often quite friendly. Despite
all my complaints, I enjoyed myself.
However, it was important that I leave so that the rain could stop and the
sun come out for the party that evening. So, Claude drove me to the
airport. I checked my luggage, boarded the plane, and it then sat. On the
runway. For an hour. I was getting more than a little worried because I
was only supposed to have an hour to connect to my flight in London.
The flight attendant checked and told me there would be no problem - the
flight would be leaving from the same terminal we would arrive at, and
there would be 1/2 hour: "lots of time."
When the plane landed and we were all standing in the aisle, I noticed the
young, attractive blonde standing in front of me checking her ticket.
(Actually, I had noticed her much earlier. I have a particular interest in
attractive blondes. And brunettes. And redheads. And I thought Cindy
Lauper was cute when she dyed her hair green. And Persis Kambatta was
quite attractive as a bald alien in the first Star Trek movie. But I
digress.) She had a ticket for the same flight. I commented to her that
if we missed it, maybe British Airways would put us on the Concorde (yeah,
right).
When we got off the plane, she grabbed a luggage cart and asked if I wanted
to share it. Considering I was lugging my heavy Mac and a bag of emergency
clothes, I accepted. We proceeded to race through the airport. Along the
way, I discovered her name was Paula, this was her first trip to Europe,
and that British Airways had also lost her bag coming into Paris.
We needed the full half hour. I checked the map of the terminal - there
were no two gates farther apart than the one we came in on and the one we
left from. There was about 1.5 miles of corridor and shopping center
between them. When we were still about 500 yards from the gate, we heard
a "last call -- we're closing the gate" announcement. Paula ran on ahead,
with the cart, to let them know we were almost there. I was moving as fast
as I could, but these days I am built more for comfort than speed. :-) As
she raced off with the cart I had a momentary vision of her taking her
bags, boarding the plane, and leaving my bags on the cart....which would
promptly be confiscated by airport security and exploded on the tarmac
while I limped to the gate.
Luckily, she was much nicer than that. She was waiting at the gate with
the cart. We obtained our bags and boarded the plane, with seats 20 rows
apart.
Later in the flight, I went back to her seat to thank her again for her
help. I am certain I would have missed the flight had I not encountered
her. We got to talking, and I found she was married to someone who fits
right into the Washington scene: her husband is an international arms
broker. He sells naval weapons systems around the world. She had traveled
to Paris to sight-see, and to meet him at the Paris air show. Just my luck
- strike up conversation with someone whose husband has access to Phalanx
and Harpoon weapons systems. I'm sure glad I didn't have any ulterior
motives (that's my story, and I'm sticking to it! :-). Actually, I'm sure
she told her husband an amusing story about how she helped an old geezer
catch his flight.....
Other than that small interlude, the flight was uneventful. I was seated
amidst a group of about 15 eastern Europeans traveling together. I had no
idea where they came from. However, they only had one person with an
English phrase book, so everytime there was an announcement, they all
started clamoring of this person to get an interpretation. It was almost
comical if it wasn't so noisy. One acted like she had never seen an
electric light before. She must have spent a half-hour turning on her
reading lamp, turning if off, and turning it on again, and pointing at it.
I really was wondering if they were carrying cages of live chickens with
them. It was silly.
Landed at Dulles 5 minutes late. No problem. Got through passport
control. No problems. Standing waiting for baggage. A page: "Would
Mr. Spafford please report to the counter?" Hmm, could it be that
someone from IDA is here to pick me up? Nope, it's a case of British
Airways being two for two. My luggage was inadvertently put on a plane
back to Paris instead of on the plane to London. They were very
apologetic, and had no idea how it happened, but my luggage is supposed
to be here tomorrow. Probably. And Gary was poking fun at me for
packing a carry-on with some clothes. Hah!
Postscript: Well, after several days to recover on sleep and adjust to the
local timezone, I can look back on this journal and add a little postscript
to the experience.
Friday I rolled out of bed early and went over to IDA where I was to join
my summer session, already in progress. (If you haven't heard the tales
related to my experiences with IDA, see my WWW homepage for a link to the
DSSG.)
We boarded the bus and left at 8 am for Aberdeen Proving Grounds, to tour
the Army's test labs. We got there at 10am, and had several interesting
tours, demos, briefings, and hands-on experiences. The two most
interesting hands-on experiences involved lunch, and after lunch.
For lunch, we got to sit down with a platoon of soldiers and we all shared
MRE (meals ready-to-eat). I got chicken with noodle stew. Actually, the
whole packaged meal was reasonably palatable. We were pleasantly
surprised. However, I did notice that something in the lunch gave me the
burps all afternoon long. I thus got to reexperience the subtle flavor of
Tang orange drink, chicken stew, and apple jelly in various combinations
all afternoon long. This was some transition from the French food at Le
Breau!
After lunch was the really fun part. We got a briefing on how the Army
tests vehicles, and the rationale behind the tests. We were also given a
short lecture on some of the human factors behind the controls on Army
vehicles. Then, they gave us some short briefings on controls, and they
let us loose to drive some of the vehicles. Over the next 2 hours, I drove
a Bradley armored vehicle (treads, 25,000 lbs, turbine engine) and an
armored Hummer (modern "jeep") around the test track. That was fun. But
the most fun was at the end. I got to sit in the driver's seat and take an
M1A2 Abrahms battle tank out for a little "spin" around the track. Never
again will I look for a parking spot without thinking about driving the
tank!
Th Abrahms I drove for about 15 minutes was 70 tons of metal powered by
twin gas turbines. It has a top speed of in excess of 40 mph (I got it
opened up on the back stretch of the track -- it takes a while to
accelerate, but wheee!). It stops amazingly quickly (power brakes). And,
for a vehicle with treads, it turns and handles pretty well. However, it
does drive like a tank.
That evening, after further briefings and return to IDA, I went out to
dinner with some of the other group members. No wine, but I did have a
chicken breast stuffed with cheese (I needed to wean myself from France).
It was at a microbrewry and I made the mistake of getting the beer sampler.
By the time I returned to my room at 8pm and called home, I crashed and
burned big time--jet lag, too much excitement, and good beer. I crawled
into bed and went to sleep.
At 11pm the phone rang. I knocked the phone and alarm clock off the table
trying to find the cause of the ring. After much cursing and foggy
searching for the light, I answer the phone. It was the front desk. My
errant suitcase had been delivered minutes before. Could they bring it up?
Mais oui, I replied.
By 11:40 I was plenty peeved. No bag. I called the front desk. It
appeared that the bellman had mysteriously disappeared shortly after the
original call. I explained that I wanted the bag right away so I could go
to sleep. The guy from the front desk brought it up. I didn't even look
at it, as I tried to get back to sleep.
At 2:30pm, still awake, I got up and took an antihistamine to help get
back to sleep -- the call and time awake had ruined any chance for me to
sleep. Sigh.
When I got up Saturday, I discovered that the bag had been ripped, my
umbrella had fallen out and disappeared, and the lock was missing.
Luckily, none of the contents were too badly damaged or missing. My
baggage appeared to have visited some of the harsher parts of la belle
France.
In the days that followed, I visited several more Federal agencies as
part of the overall DSSG experience. In between, I tried to read some
e-mail and catch up on some papers. And on the final night, a group of
us went to see the movie "Men In Black." I strongly urge you to see it
-- it is hysterical. It also seemed oddly appropriate with all my
visits that week.
Tomorrow (July 3), I pack up my tattered suitcases (and my tattered body)
and head homeward. I will pick up my father at my sister's house after
dinner and we will fly to Indianapolis, where much of this adventure
started. I hope my luggage also makes it. Once I get home, I intend to
spend a few days doing nothing, followed by a few days of frantic catch-up.
In between I will spend time with family, and my father in particular.
Then, on the 12th, I head to Europe again (Belgium) for more adventure.
Sometimes I wish I was boring, anonymous, and never went anywhere.
-----
Copyright 1997 by E. H. Spafford. If you are crazy enough to want to
reprint or forward any part of the above story, you must include this
copyright notice. No commercial use of this material should be made
without the author's permission, except printing it out and wrapping fish
in it. Any similarity between characters in this story and real people is
unfortunate, and the product of an overdose of Brie. So there, and your
little dog, too.
------------------------------
End of Yucks Digest
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