News: August 2000

August 31, 2000
I drove up to Portland again yesterday to be with Grandma for awhile during her post-operative recovery. Physically she's doing quite well—probably the result of many years of gardening—but mentally she's confused at times and hallucinating occasionally. My understanding is that this is not all that uncommon, but it's unfortunate nonetheless. She's seeing slippers on the ceiling and cats and dogs outside her door (which is unlikely in the Critical Care Unit). She also sometimes hears music when none is playing, which wouldn't be so bad except that it tends to be music she doesn't like. She doesn't seem to be in any pain, though she complains of a little discomfort now and again.

Assuming her recovery continues (and we expect that it will), she'll be moved out of CCU today and into a regular hospital room. Bret and my uncle Howard will visit today, and I'll be up again tomorrow.

August 29, 2000
I spent all day with Grandma at the hospital yesterday after a CT scan revealed in her a subdural hematoma, essentially a blood clot in the area between the brain and the skull. She was admitted to ER then the Critical Care Unit late last night, and surgery for the problem is scheduled for today at 2 PM.

Thoughts and prayers for her are appreciated.

UPDATE: Grandma is now through the surgery and resting. As of this evening, some level of mental awareness was starting to return, which is a good sign. To be frank, the mortality rate for the elderly (Grandma is 87) is about 50 percent for this kind of surgery, but the mortality rate is about 100 percent if we did nothing, so it's not like this was really in any way elective. There continue to be a number of complications (Grand Mal seizures, pneumonia, etc.) which could come about, but so far, so good. The operation itself—an effort to drain the blood and fluid that had collected in her skull and that was putting increasing pressure on her brain—went fine.

Erin, Bret, and I went to Portland to meet with my uncle Howard in seeing Grandma before the surgery. She was in fairly good spirits, though obviously slowed mentally. We saw her briefly after the surgery, but she was really in no state to take visitors, so we departed shortly thereafter.

I'll be heading up again tomorrow to meet with Howard and Grandma. Erin will head back to school after a truncated first day today.

August 26, 2000
Dave came up and after a few games of Carmageddon, we head up to Portland for the loligo concert. We stopped at Fry's in Wilsonville and Powell's Tech Books, and at the latter a grabbed a few books on Adobe InDesign, the Quark-killing desktop publishing application that replaced Adobe PageMaker.

We picked up Dennis, delayed only by the fact that I couldn't for the life of me remember his apartment number. I knew the right building, but I couldn't remember which stairwell his apartment was in, so I ended up meeting a lot of nice and friendly people who knew next to nothing about their neighbors. Happily, Dennis eventually appeared outside and my misery ended.

The loligo concert at the Tonic Lounge was a rocker, and the set list was peppered with lots of the newer stuff which I enjoyed. For those who've not purchased it yet, their first CD is now selling for only $10, a steal of a price given the quality of the album. The next loligo gig will be September 7 at Mt. Tabor.

August 25, 2000
Erin's pretty much finished cleaning up her office and will hopefully put it to good use this year. In the four years she's been teaching, she's never had a usable office space at home. In Mountain View we were crammed into a dinky apartment, so the best she could do was pile papers everywhere. Since we moved in the middle of school year last year, she didn't have a chance to get her office into shape and it became something of a dumping ground for whatever we needed to stack up or store. Now that the room is ready for use I have high hopes that it will allow her to better organize the school work she brings home and increase her already high productivity level.

I drove up to Portland this morning for a SiteRev.com client meeting. Results were very positive and it looks like a winning relationship. Thanks to Dennis for the referral.

Erin left late afternoon to visit our friend, Carlotta, who lives on the Oregon coast. I'll be bach-in' it this weekend, though Dave has promised to visit and keep me company. Erin will be back on Sunday.

August 24, 2000
Spent the day with Garr up in Portland and had a good time fiddling with his new recording equipment and doing little bits of work on his Quadra and G4. Inside scoop: Recording on loligo's second album will likely begin this December.

August 22, 2000
Spoke at length with Dennis today, and whaddya know? He's a darts player. A real one. He gave me numerous pointers (no pun intended), and I'm eager to try them out. Certainly I can't get dramatically worse than I am.

I've been accepted to the Salem Police Department's Citizen Police Academy. The program runs once or twice a week from September 6 through mid-November and is designed to help inform the public about what it is exactly police do. (Donuts, anyone?) As they only accept 20 applicants per year, I'm honored to have been chosen.

Topics for the course include: Community Policing, use of force, media relations, Dispatch/communications, search and seizure, emergency vehicle operation (hands on!), internal affairs, patrol tactics, SWAT, K9 units, traffic enforcement, gangs, drug enforcement, domestic violence protocol, traffic stop procedures, and more. I am really looking forward to learning a lot!

loligo plays Saturday in Portland at 9:45 PM at the Tonic Lounge. There's likely to be a small cover charge, but if you've not heard the band live, here's a great chance.

I've decided in recent weeks to vote for the criminal instead of the idiot in our upcoming presidential election. Once again a case of voting for the "least worst," I consider intelligence to be a prerequisite for the job of president. I'd like to say honesty is as well, but who are we kidding?

Political Quote of the Day from the Dallas Morning News (May 15, 2000): When he was asked if people could lose money under his plan to privatize part of Social Security, Bush replied “Maybe, maybe not.”

Speaking of comedy, Erin and I watched the second Austin Powers movie, The Spy Shagged Me. The Mini Me thing was great, but a lot of the film seemed like a rehash. Worth a rental, I guess, but it's not all that great.

August 21, 2000
Solved the problem with Trinity, though I don't know whether to feel proud or embarrassed. A spent an hour with Apple Tech Support and we tried everything in the book until I discovered that the TCP/IP Preferences weren't the only TCP/IP Preferences in the Preferences folder.

When I was in France, I installed software for Mageos.com, the free ISP I used over there, and it placed TCP/IP prefs in my Preferences folder—but in French! Instead of "TCP/IP Preferences" it was something like "Préférénces TCP/IP" or some such ridiculousness. Having found and trashed those, the cable modem connection worked once again like a charm. It makes perfect sense if you think about it. I just didn't think about it until earlier today.

Anyway, Trinity is now back at 100 percent, and I'm relieved.

Bret, Erin and I watched multiple Oscar winner American Beauty this evening, and I heartily join in the world's applause. Utterly brilliant movie. Funny, thoughtful, sexy, sad, poignant. Full of winning performances, great screenwriting, superior direction, fantastic soundtrack and score, and excellent cinematography. Highly recommended.

August 19, 2000—Eugene, Oregon
Bret returned from a two day self-imposed exile at my parents while the Lillys visited and a one day stay over at his friend Matt's place in Portland. He added an electronic dart board downstairs during our vacation, and we've been playing since our return. We're all pretty terrible at it, but what an incredibly fun game. Don't know what these things cost, but if it's less than $30, it's definitely a must-have for any game room.

I took off to visit Dave at his place in Eugene, so we could swap some HTML files and play some games. We seem to still be bitten by the Carmageddon bug, and I can hardly wait to see what that's like in a LAN party environment. As I've said before, there are gruesome and vulgar bits, but the race portion of this game is about as good as it gets.

Despite some fiddling, we've had no luck with Trinity, so I'm calling Apple on Monday.

August 18, 2000
Erin's parents left today, having once again been incredibly helpful in fixing little odds and ends around the house which need fixing. The fix-it/improvement list is once again extensive: shower drain unclogged, garage wall re-patched, garden weeded, backdoor light fixed....I'm sure there's more that I've not even mentioned. What a strange and special gift it is that every time they visit, they leave us with our house better than they found it.

Dave visited the other day, and I'm sorry to say that I'm having a very strange problem with Trinity which prevented us from getting anything much done. Trinity was flawless both before I left for France and in European performance—the dial-up connection problems being the fault of the ISP—but is now exhibiting an inability to connect to the Internet via my cable modem. All other ethernet services (like File Sharing) work as normal, but ethernet Internet has proved impossible.

Having tested the cable modem with other computers (Zeke and Dave's G3, Spook), I'm positive the problem is with Trinity. Because the ethernet otherwise works, one would think it would be a TCP/IP, OpenTransport or AppleTalk issue, but I'll be darned if I have a clue what it is. I've reinstalled software, trashed preferences, rebuilt the desktop, zapped the PRAM, etc.—in short, everything I can think of but without success.

Dave and I will give everything another shot over the weekend. If we don't find a solution, I'll call Apple on Monday. This one is baffling, especially since everything else works perfectly.

August 17, 2000
I've been dealing with almost an eight week backlog of mail and bills in the last two days, and I'm happy to say that early projections show Erin and I probably won't have to declare bankruptcy on the basis of our France trip. It'll be on the basis of something else, like my addictions to black tar heroin, hard-core pornography, and eating Cheez-Wiz from the can.

Or not.

Did I mention I'm still jet lagged?

August 15, 2000—Paris, France/Cincinnati, Ohio/Portland, Oregon
God bless America, land of inexpensive goods and services and free public bathrooms. After some seven weeks in France, Erin and I return today via separate flights (a money issue—really, we still like each other).

I'll be on Delta Air #8700 leaving PAR (DeGaulle) at 4 PM to Cincinnati. From there, I'm on Delta 1977 leaving Cincinnati at 8:50 PM and arriving at 10:33 PM in PDX. You can plug these flight numbers on the Delta Airlines web site and see if I've been delayed or shot down or whatever by the strike.

Erin will be traveling on British Airways #301 leaving PAR (DeGaulle) at 7:40 AM and arriving in London. Then she's on British Airways #285 from London at 10:25 AM to SFO. You can track her progress up to this point on the British Airways web site. After that, Erin hops aboard Alaska Air #303 departing SFO at 3:33 PM for PDX.

This France vacation and tour would not have been remotely possible without the kind and generous assistance of the Courtieux and Ramsayer families, and we are greatly in their debt. I hope that some day soon we are able to shower them with the same wonderful hospitality and friendship as they have shown us.

Cincinnati: The return flight to the States was a decidedly mixed affair. No complaints with Air France; they were brilliant once again. Sadly, though, I was surrounded by crying, kicking kids, making much of the trip less than pleasant. And the onboard movie—yikes. It was Beethoven's 3rd, a terrible, stupid story about a St. Bernard and a family headed by Judge Reinhold (nice facelift!) and Julia Sweeney. I'm hopeful that my lack of sleep will help my jet lag recovery efforts as well as wipe the memory of this movie's visuals from my brain.

US Customs was courteous and efficient. No problems whatsoever. In fact, better than I anticipated, which makes for a nice first welcome home.

Portland: Thanks to the Lillys for picking us up at the airport, and to the Robins for allowing us to crash at their pad. I've not sleep so soundly in weeks, I'm sure (which nothing against France; I've just been up for the better part of 24 hours).

August 14, 2000—Paris, France
We met Kevin and his girlfriend Pate at Sacre Cœur for lunch today and talked about our various European experiences. (Kevin is my friend Dave's younger brother.) Kevin is in a senior position at Outside Magazine in their web site section, so he's been able to put in some half time work from Europe while he and Pate have been here (which is since June). Pate is an artist and has been studying in France. She'll be starting an MFA program in San Francisco this fall.

After lunch, Erin and I bopped about the city to complete various errands. This included a stop at the restaurant 56 floors up the Montparnasse building, where I was able to offer a toast to my wife as I did 10 years ago. This time, of course, my words weren't directed to some theoretical personage in my future.

I remember thinking of all the changes I would face between ages 20 and 30. Back then, I expected by 30 to have married, perhaps started a family, completed graduate school, and begun saving for house. A hit-or-miss 10 years by this calculus, but I wouldn't trade the life I've lived for the experiences I imagined.

What will the next 10 years hold? My best guess right now is 10 years of great marriage, the start of a family, the release of several music albums, the partial remodeling of our house, more travel, the expansion of my business, the completion of a Davison genealogy book, and, God willing, a Super Bowl victory for the Pittsburgh Steelers. (Hehe.) No matter what happens, it'll be a great adventure.

August 13, 2000—Paris, France
Alexandre took us on a night time drive of Paris, showing us the City of Lights in fully glory. We stopped for ice cream at one spot, walked by various shops and restaurants, gazed at the Seine, took photos of the Eiffel Tower, and generally let the city wash over us. Paris by day is a big city. Better than most perhaps but not much more. Paris by night is incomparable.

August 12, 2000—Paris, France
After a pleasantly relaxed morning which included another walk for Max the black lab, Anne, Chloe, Erin and I headed for a local château, Vaux le Vicomte, the one which was sort of the precursor to Versailles. Built by the finance minister of Louis XIV, the castle also heralded the minister's downfall when the Sun King got all jealous of the building and arrested the owner two weeks after he saw it.

Although the December 1999 storm did extensive damage to the area (destroying some 8000 trees and 120 acres), the house itself and the immediate grounds were magnificent. There were warnings not to travel the surrounding forests, but other than that little damage was evident.

At this point in my life, I've seen more than a few cathedrals and castles and I'm not as intrigued by the interiors as perhaps I once was. The gardens however continue to be a source of rich fascination for me, and I could walk the grounds for hours without boredom. Though the weather was usually warm today (30-some degrees celsius), we troop around for at least an hour or two admiring everything.

This evening we all watched Four Weddings and a Funeral, an excellent little British romantic comedy with Hugh Grant and Andie McDowell. Grant does well, McDowell is inconsistent, with at least several horrid bits. ("Is it raining? I hadn't noticed" being foremost among them.) The screen writing is very good for the most part. Well worth seeing (we'd all seen it before several times).

August 11, 2000—Paris, France
We bid farewell today to Gerard who, having completed various household repairs this month, left for his well-earned vacation in the Ardeche.

I had the chance to walk Max, the Courtieux' black lab and we had a spirited run together through some local trails. The added excitement for Max nowadays is that there's a local bitch in heat. Fine so long as Max doesn't catch the scent. If he does, pulling on his leash is like playing tug-of-war with a fire engine.

I finished Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. It's the tragic story of a Nigerian tribesman whose world is invaded by the white man. That sounds more condemnatory than it actually plays out in the book, and indeed, much of the work reads like a testament to achievement of Western Civilization in medicine, theology, law, and science. I'm not sure that's what the author intended, but there you have it.

We watched Sense and Sensibility (starring Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Hugh Grant) with Chloe and once again enjoyed Jane Austen's world. Hard not to be swept away by the flowery English language and peculiar social customs. Still suffers from a dreadful Thompson crying/laughing scene at the end, but other than that it's full of fine performances. Recommended (again).

August 10, 2000—Mont Saint Michel/Paris, France
French train scheduling being what it is, we had no choice but to use our remaining trip today to visit the beautiful cathedral at Mont Saint Michel. Our TGV ride was easily the best of the lot since the weather was pleasant and we didn't have to rely on TGV climate control to be comfortable. Additionally, we had (for once) "Club duo" seating which is face-to-face seats with a little table in the middle. Made the ride more than tolerable.

Mont Saint Michel is a striking island fortress/cathedral original built in 708 AD. The waters around it have been dammed, so cars, busses and backpackers can all approach the area without too much fear of submersion.

The walled city pilgrims enter is like a winding circular staircase going ever higher until one reaches the cathedral at the top of the rock. As I say, it's a striking sight to see from a distance.

Our tour of the interior itself spoke to the truth of Matthew 6:24 which says, in essence, that man cannot serve both God and money, and I'm sorry to say in the case of Mont Saint Michel, they've clearly opted for the latter. Some 3 million visitors per year visit "the Wonder" (as it is known), and the commercialization of the area is about as complete as is possible. I don't think they could cram another shop or restaurant onto those little winding streets if they tried.

In all our visits to various cathedrals, abbeys, and sacred spaces across France, a respectful quiet if not silence has been maintained by the vast majority of tourists. Be under no such illusions at Mont Saint Michel. Despite the "Silence" signs outside the church, you might as well be entering some sort of quasi-religious Disneyland. The crowds are thunderous, and the kids are uncontrolled.

(Once particularly amusing scene occurred when an Italian tour guide asked for "Silence please" and the Italian group just exiting the room told her, as near as we could determine, to be quiet herself. As far as I'm concerned, the notion of the "ugly American" tourist can die a quick and painless death given what I saw at Mont Saint Michel; 95+ percent of the tourists were European and the boorish behavior I saw was theirs alone.)

All that said, Mont Saint Michel deserves rightful praise as a fascinating architectural achievement (even if its modern-day visitors are mostly louts). Built by Benedictine monks over a period of some 600 years, the buildings are a mix of styles, particularly Gothic and Romanesque. It's a bit of a hoof to get all the way up to the cathedral, but there are plenty of good views of the surrounding countryside to lessen the pain.

We spent a good number of hours on the train to do this day trip to Mont Saint Michel. I think it's fair to say that the trip was worthwhile but below expectations (mostly because of the number of inconsiderate tourists we encountered). Luckily, we met a very nice American couple, Gale and Kristi, and had a wonderful time chatting with them on the train. Chance meetings like these (notably the Forbes family from the UK) have been a great bonus, and in this case, really helped to improve the day.

August 9, 2000—Sainte Marine/Paris, France
As loathe as we are to leave the pleasant Brittany coast, we must, so we bussed to Quimper then hopped the train to Paris this morning. The Ramsayers have given us a wonderful experience of the area. We've eaten many of the regional specialties (thanks to Annette's great cooking) and learned a lot about Celtic tradition.

My favorite location name, discovered on the map during yesterday's bike ride: "Ty Conan."

We grabbed a baguette sandwich (ham & cheese) and drink before boarding the relatively full TGV from Quimper to Paris. All my previous complaints about the TGV stand. In terms of accommodations, this is a lousy way to travel compared to regular first class trains.

The Courtieuxs have welcomed us back into their home in Paris. We'll be spending our nights here until we leave on Tuesday.

August 8, 2000—Sainte Marine, France
Started today in grand style by actually chatting on AIM with Dave, our first transatlantic chat session ever. Not much lag either. Given the nine hour time difference, it's been unlikely all along that I would bump into anyone from the States via Instant Messenger, but it's neat that I did and neater still that it works.

Erin and I rented bikes from the local bike shop here in Sainte Marine, hopped a ferry, and rode to a château. Nice gardens, fair house. Glad I live in the modern age, let's put it that way.

We rode along the beach on the way back, enjoying weather and the scenery. Just before taking the ferry back to Sainte Marine, we observed the fishing boats bringing in the catch of the day, and that was interesting in its own right.

After a wonderful few days of the Ramsayers hospitality, we'll bid them farewell tomorrow and return to the Courtieuxs in Paris. Gerard has been working on re-roofing part of the house, and the weather proving uncooperative, it's taking longer than he'd hoped to finish. This means we're foregoing the Ardeche part of journey but will probably use the remaining prepaid train trip for a one-day journey out of Paris and back on either Thursday or Friday. (The pass itself expires on Saturday.)

August 7, 2000—Bénodet/Sainte Marine, France
Annette, Erin and I took the boat across the harbor to Bénodet and spent a few hours walking the streets, admiring the beach, and shopping the market. Bénodet is more established as a tourist town than Sainte Marine, so you get a lot more people but there are more banks and restaurants and such as well.

In the afternoon, the sun made an appearance (weather has been iffy the last few days) so Erin and I went to the beach. The water is colder here in Brittany than it was down south, but the beaches are topless throughout France so I'm hardly one to complain about anything. (Except that I have yet another sunburn despite being slathered in sunblock and actually being in the sun a relatively short period.)

For the evening meal, we took Annette and Jean-Claude to a local creparie. French meal customs being somewhat foreign to Erin and I (certainly more me than Erin), the Ramsayers guided us through a bit. First, you order a crepe that's more of a buckwheat style, eat that, then order again and the old dishes are removed. Eat the new buckwheat type crepe, order it again if you feel like it, or move on to ordering the dessert type of crepe. It was strange to order several times and watch the dishes being removed and replaced, but the winner in the "weird" category for the night, was the flaming dessert crepe ordered by both Annette and Jean-Claude. I'm just not used to seeing food on fire, I guess.

August 6, 2000—Quimper/Sainte Marine, France
Did another 4 km morning run along the beach despite aching muscles from yesterday. Annette, Jean-Claude, Erin and I took a quick ferry ride across the harbor and hopped a bus into Quimper (pronounced "camp-pear") so we could see an art museum. Brittany is a rather famous locale for French painters to come and do landscapes, and there were plenty of good examples.

We've also taken note of the Celtic heritage of the area, particularly in dress and speech. "Ty" for example means a small house, and what with the French convention for naming their homes, there are a number of places around here with my name on them.

We'll be heading out to the local fish market tomorrow with Annette, followed by an all-day bike ride around the area (and to visit a chateau) on Tuesday. Plans for Wednesday and beyond are not yet firmly decided.

August 5, 2000—Sainte Marine, France
I ran the beach this morning, covering the 4 km distance at a reasonably good pace for a guy who's not formally exercised since he got here. The walk back along the shoreline was fun, too. The water is cold compared to the Mediterranean, but I don't mind since I'm not planning on swimming. The waves gently roll in, and one could hardly ask for a place more tranquil in the morning. That's more than enough for me.

Lunch with the Ramsayers was interesting. We had weird crawfish-like crustaceans (la langoustine). We had to tear off their little heads, crack open their shells, and eat their innards right at the table. Erin watched Annette cook them last night, an event I can't decide if I'm sorry I missed or not. Anyway, they look a lot like big shrimp, and taste a lot like crab. I'd have them again, even though the dining experience struck me a little strange.

I've achieved Internet access success here in Brittany, almost a week prior to when I thought I'd have it again. I didn't realize that the Ramsayers' summer home had a phone line. Silly me.

My May 19 PowerBook adventure (in which I plugged a FireWire cable into Trinity and got smoke and sparks) received some mention on MacNN, the biggest (and best IMHO) Macintosh news site. The best guess out there right now is that I plugged the cable in backwards and the reversed polarity shorted things out. I'm a little skeptical, but I concede it could've happened that way. (Bearing in mind that it shouldn't have damaged anything even if I did.) Apple fixed everything for free in less than 48 hours, so I'm hardly complaining.

This evening we took a walk around the coastline past the remains of more Nazi bunkers, one of which was located near a fort built in the time of Napoleon III (1862 specifically).

August 4, 2000—Quimper/Sainte Marine, France
My first impression of the couchettes provided in first class was that the accommodations were better than some of the hotels we'd stayed at. While that still might be true, I'm sorry to say that I was unable to get a restful night's sleep onboard. I'm guessing that's more my problem than something inherent in the overnight train system. Another night onboard and I'd probably sleep just fine. So it goes.

Where I don't think it's my issue alone is the TGV trains. I'll give them credit for being faster than the regular rail engines, but they're also much less comfortable and, as I've said before, their climate control is exceedingly poor. Not worth the extra money unless you've got to get someplace in hurry as far as I'm concerned.

Having made it successfully to Quimper in Brittany, Erin and I hopped a bus and met the Ramsayers in Combrit/Sainte Marine. Their vacation home here is wonderful, and it was great to see Annette and Jean-Claude again.

After a brilliant dinner by Annette featuring all sorts of Brittany specialties, we took a quick walk to the beach in the evening. Colder than the beach at Canet of course, but also much more tranquil. I'm planning to run it tomorrow morning. Tonight, I'm headed to bed.

August 3, 2000—Overnight train from Perpignan to Paris, France
We spent the day in and about Perpignan since our overnight train to Paris (and ultimately to Quimper) didn't leave until the evening. After hitting a boulangerie, we dropped onto a park bench, wrote postcards, and fed pigeons. It cost about a buck for the bread, but it's been years since I found an activity so entertaining. Just throw out a chunk of bread and watch the battles begin. Absolutely hysterical, conceding of course that I got very little sleep last night and that my vision of events might be necessarily skewed as a result.

I finished The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver, a very well-written novel about a young Kentucky woman who hits the road in a beat-up VW Bug and winds up living with an adopted Indian child in Arizona. I had something of a quibble with one bit toward the end, but given Kingsolver's talent and the overall quality of the book, it's forgivable. For 98 percent of the time this is a very pleasant read. Recommended.

August 2, 2000—Canet/Perpignan, France
Well, things have improved, and Perpignan isn't looking so dreadful after all. Up until about 1 PM today it looked like we were in for a continuation of the hot, humid weather we had last night. Fortunately, during our visit to the Palace of the Kings of Majorca the weather turned cloudy, a breeze picked up, and the temperature dropped into the realm of the pleasant. Good thing, because during the morning the previous night's weather was still holding on, and inside the train station, where we'd returned to make reservations for tomorrow, it was close to stifling.

Whilst at the station we happened upon a bit of art history. In a move that I can only chalk up to the man's already famous eccentricity, Salvador Dali at one point in his life apparently jumped off the train in Perpignan and proclaimed the Perpignan train station to be the "Center of the Universe." Brilliant artist but also certifiably loony, if you ask me.

After our visit to the Center of the Universe, we headed to the more ho-hum confines of the royal Palace of the Kings of Majorca. Construction on the Palace started in 1274 AD and though it's no great shakes compared to the castles and palaces of Northern France, it was easily worth the price of admission, which is to say that it was free. It overlooks a good part of Perpignan, but as many of you will have already gathered, that's not saying much.

Nonetheless, there's a lot of history here for those who are interested: When the people of Sicily revolved in 1282 and named Peter III as King of Aragon, the Pope ordered a crusade led by Philip the Bold, King of France, against Peter. The French forces occupied Gerona but were struck by a fever which killed a large number of soldiers, including Philip the No Longer Bold But Very Dead.

James II, having refused to take sides in the aforementioned war even though Peter was his older brother, reigned over the Kingdom of Majorca and completed construction of the Palace during his 35 year reign.

Succeeded by his son Sancho—does "King Sancho" sound weird to anyone else?—the Palace provided a court for the Lords of Catalonia, Aragon, and the Languedoc. Sancho died in 1324 AD having, by all accounts, done well in holding up his end of the bargain as king.

He was succeeded by his nephew, James III, who provided to be unequal to the task of holding the kingdom together. His brother-in-law, Peter of Aragon, seized a good portion of the surrounding area in 1343-44. The royal Palace of Perpignan became the principle residence of the Kings of Majorca from then on.

It blipped into historical significance occasionally after that. In 1408 Pope Benedict XIII, during the Great Schism, stayed at the Palace when he came to Perpignon to hold a synod. In 1493, Isabella and Ferdinand briefly stayed at the Palace, before declaring it "in a state of decay." (Finicky royals.) Charles V and Philip II of Spain added fortifications and armaments to the building, and it continued to serve as a military barracks until the mid-20th century. It is unlikely to blip into historical significance again.

After our visit to the Palace, we hopped a bus to Canet, a beach town on the Mediterranean. The topless beaches and warm water are every adolescent boy's dream, and being only a year or two removed from puberty, I'll include myself in their numbers. Erin and I walked the sandy beaches along the shoreline, letting the soft waves flow in over our feet. It was every bit as nice as it sounds.

August 1, 2000—Perpignan, France
Having thoroughly enjoyed Caen (to the extent we'd visit again), we left today for the southern coast of France. We'll be TGVing it down, an experience in speed that Erin's had but I've not. That aside, the bottom line is that France's high speed train will have us down there without the need for an overnight, and we're eager to get to Perpignan and relax in a new region of France. It'll be an abbreviated visit, to be sure, but it's hard to complain when there's nothing on the agenda and the only requirement is to have fun.

Update: Boy do my words of this morning seem pollyannaish in hindsight. Whatever engineering marvels France has to offer, I don't think the TGV is among them. Yeah, it's faster than your regular train (though we arrived in Perpignan 30 minutes late), but it's less comfortable and the climate control is terrible. The TGV ride was probably the least comfortable ride we've had and it's unfortunate that it was also the longest (6.5 hours) and most expensive (an extra 40 francs for a required "reservation"). And let me tell you, six and half hours is a long time to sweat it out with shoddy air conditioning.

We hopped off the TGV at around 10 PM, and both Erin and I had the same reaction: Welcome to Southern California. Palm trees on the avenues and everything. That's terrific if you're into LA, but we're not, and I think it was clear in a big hurry that this Perpignan swing is going to be an exercise in looking on the bright side. (We're already cracking jokes right and left. Word to the wise: It pays to marry somebody who's willing to take setbacks in life with a sense of humor.)

We'll see how it goes tomorrow when we start adventuring around the town, but the first thing we noticed other than the heat and humidity is that there are no beaches. We consider this a bummer since seeing the Mediterranean is why we came here.

Latest update on August 31, 2000
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