Dateline France, 29 October 1989
Report 5

A lot has happened since the last report; there is much to tell.  I might
divide it into two parts, as by the time I get it all written down
another week may have passed.

I guess the most dramatic thing was the hose to the dishwasher
bursting in our appartment.  It happened sometime after midnight one night,
but well before Kaye awoke to the sound of running water around 4am.  About
3 cm of water at the deepest points, in the kitchen, dining room, living
room and halls.  I, in foresight, had arranged to be away for a planning
retreat with the Altair people that night.  So Kaye was left on her own
to bail (bale?) and mop.  She couldn't get in touch with the parents of
the owners (the owners are in Toronto) until mid-morning.  Some water got
into the apartment below, but I think the floors are mainly concrete,
so it wasn't too bad.  For us, on the other hand, the smell of damp carpets
has been hard to live with.  They are mostly dry now, and the smell diminishes,
but we have yet to see if it vanishes completely.  Some of the floors are
wood parquet, so we have some interesting buckles and bridges in places.
A couple people have asked us if we didn't always turn the water off to the
dishwasher and washing machine between uses.  No, but we do now.  Maybe
we'll start unscrewing lightbulbs when the lamps are off, too.

One of the reasons I've been so busy is that Altair had a one-day technical
show-and-tell in Paris that I gave a talk for.  It was a day of talks (mostly
on the O2 system and related research efforts), along with system demos.
That night Francois Bancilhon, brave man, invited all the troops over to
his place that night for dinner, drinks and dancing.  I made it to work well
before lunch the next day.  Immediately after, the group cloned into research
and industrialization strains (I'm in the I group), and each starting planning
what to do over the next two years.  The I group is producing a
commercial product, with some kind of external release one year from now,
and a final product in two years.  So, there has been a lot of writing and
talking about features and design for the next version, as well as what
infrastructure to set up to help code it.  The retreat mentioned above
was in connection with this planning.
220z
Another reason I've been busy is that word is leaking out that I am in
Europe, so I am getting many invites to visit other institutions, some of
which I have been accepting.  (Too many, of course.)
220z
Yet another reason is letters and messages that start "Since you are on
sabbatical and have lots of time on your hands, of course you won't mind
refereeing this paper/reading this thesis/writing this letter of
recommendation/reviewing this proposal/..."  Now that the pile on my desk
measures eight inches, it is getting more easy to refuse.
220z
Fortunately, I am getting adept at putting that pile, the growing queue of
e-mail messages and my grand research agenda for this year temporarily out
of mind when the family plays tourist.  We've been getting into Paris at
least twice a week.  Two weeks back we visited the Paris Opera, not to attend,
but just to see the interior architecture.  There is easily three times
as much space in lobbies, reception rooms and stairways as in the auditorium
itself.  (And the auditorium is not small--it had the largest seating
capacity in the world when it was built.)  There is probably a two-to-one
ratio backstage: dressing rooms, offices and green room to stage, traps
and flys, judging from pictures and models.  The building incorporates almost
as many architectural styles on the outside as it has shades of marble inside.
After seeing it, we just spent some time windowshopping at the ritzy jewlry,
clothing and perfume shops.  We also saw the Ritz hotel, whence the term
"ritzy" I presume.  We stumbled upon "La Maison de Chocolate" (or perhaps
Kaye's sixth sense led us there).  She was disappointed there was no dinner
menu.  We had to satisfy ourselves with take-out.  I'm sure Kaye will be
returning until she has had a chance to try one of each kind of bon bon.
On this visit to Paris I also noticed Paris meter-maids for the first time.
Their uniforms are more fashionable than probably 90% of the eveningwear
sold in the US.  A striking color of blue, more saturated than robin's egg
blue, a lighter tint than steel blue, and they come in pants suit or blouse
and skirt, with a matching overcoat and red, white and blue scarf.

Our next trip to Paris took us to the Grevin Museum, which is a waxworks.
Everyone had told us how much kids like it, but ours didn't get too excited
(except by the funny mirrors near the entrance).  There was a great range
in accuracy of rendition.  Woody Allen and Maggie Thatcher looked true-to-life
(well, to me at least--I haven't seen either in the flesh).  Jane Fonda,
on the other hand, looked like she had a combination of a hangover and hives.
The basement features vignettes from French history, which helped me some with
getting my chronology down.  After that, I took the kids home, and Kaye
stayed in the city to go to a cooking demonstration at Le Cordon Bleu cooking
school.  (She's been to a second one since.)  She learned a lot, including
that French master chefs are as sloppy in the kitchen as everyone else,
and that they are male chauvinists.  She was bothered that the attitude of
the chef to the female student assistant was one of constant denigration.
This behavior is not universal in France.  Here at Altair I see little
chauvinism or sexism (although I am not atuned to the subtleties of the
language).

Our most recent excursion into Paris was to take the kids to Luxembourg
Gardens.  (Any of you who watch "French in Action" would recognize the
locale.)  We had wonderful weather: clear sky and over 70 degrees.  (It
has been unseasonably warm and dry here up until last weekend.)  We first
went to a puppet theatre, where we saw Puss in Boots.  Then we went to
a play area that you pay 5F to get in, and which has about 40 different
swings, slides and climbing toys.  The French opinion of what is a safe
playground toy for a four year old is, let us say, more liberal than the
American opinion.  We tried to look calm as Sarah crossed a bridge consisting
of a rubber-covered chain suspended seven feet above the ground, with two
rope handrails, while a group of kids crossed at the same time
in the other direction.  We then had some waffles and barbapappa (one of
the first French words to make it into Sarah's vocabulary, = "Papa's
Beard" = cotton candy).  After getting the kids' hands unsticky (we go
nowhere without a bottle of water), we tried to rent a toy sailboat to
sail in the big fountain there, but much to Sarah's dismay, it was too
late in the day.  We contented ourselves with looking for David Novick's
mother's sunglasses, which she lost in the fountain on a previous visit.
We didn't find them, but there is a nice plaque there now marking the event.
The park closes promptly at 5:30p this time of year, and at 5:20 the guards
start tooting whistles and herding everyone out.

Little things: Doorknobs are uncommon in France.  Most doors
have levers, which you can push with your elbow and pull with your wrist
when your hands are full.  The disadvantage is that they are at exactly
the same height as the ends of my sleeves when I walk, and about once
a week I hook myself going from one room to another.  Most toilets flush
by a knob that pulls up in the middle.  It makes for a simpler mechanism
inside (I've had experience with one of ours already), but you can't get
the lid off the water tank quickly.  You have to unscrew some fittings first.
French people don't like to wear badges and don't like flourescent lighting
(based on local experience).  French cars have yellow headlights and white
running lights in front.  Our Volvo stands out with its white headlights.
Nobody has given me a definitive answer on the reason for the different
color.

My next report will tell about the trips we've been taking into the country.

PS: I forgot to mention an interesting coincidence about our visit to the
petit Trianon in my last report.  We visited it on 4 October 1989.  4 October
1789 was the last full day Marie Antoinette spent there.  On 5 October, she
heard that the Paris mob was advancing on Versaille, and she fled the Petit
Trianon, never to return there.