On TV in Philadelphia

Last Thursday I got up at 330am to be on local NBC TV.  Turned out well.

Sam Weaver the Parisian

For the week I was in Paris, I rented a Cannondale road bike from Sam Weaver of Rando Cycles (5 rue Fernand Foureau, near the Metro stop Porte de Vincennes at the eastern edge of Paris). The Rando Boutique, next door, tel. 01 40 01 03 08, has an excellent selection of saddle bags and German bicycle accessories. 


Sam is an affable Californian who married a lovely French biochemist.  They live just a mile south of Paris in the village of Malakoff.  When he told me about living in Paris I started wondering if my wife could teach math in Paris.  It would be a great place for Nigel and Jacari to live.  France doesn't have the horrible history of slavery and segregation that America does.  The right wing in Paris hates everybody fairly equally.  But my wife is fluent in Spanish, so it is more likely she could get a job in Spain.  


Because I had a decent road bike, it was the off season and the weather was cold--the high temp every day was either just above or just below freezing--I could ride with the peletons in Bois de Boulogne. Every day from 10am until dark, a two-mile road around a horsing racing track in the southwest corner of the city is closed to traffic and open to bicycles.  In the dozen times I have been to France, there is always somebody riding this road, rain or shine, heat or cold.  


I can't wait to go back!

And Another Frenchman Who Really Loves George Bush

In a post last week I wrote about Stefan who said he loved George Bush.  The next night, on Wednesday, I sat next to a Frenchman who genuinely liked George Bush.  I had dinner with the executives of the Maison de la Chime, a professional organization of chemists.  The man in question was in his mid-70s.  He had served five years in the French Army including fighting in Algeria in 1961. 

He is a French Conservative who believes in strong central government and strong national defense.  He said invading Afghanistan was definitely the right thing to do and was very proud that French soldiers served there.  He admitted the reason for invading Iraq was wrong—there were no WMDs and he believes the US knew it at the time—but he said the excuse led to the right action, which was to get rid of Saddam Hussein.  He admires George Bush for staying on course despite all criticism.  He was the only one at the table who admired the former president.

One of the best things about international travel is seeing the USA from a distance.  The US showed up in every newspaper.  Sarah Palin was on the cover of one.  But at this distance, commentators don’t exist.  Limbaugh, Beck, Savage and the other croaking toads that are so loud in America don’t exist here.  They do not lead.  They talk.  They never take responsibility.  Outside America, people analyze our actions, they don't listen to words on the radio.  

Empty Row To and From Paris

Sometimes life is so much better than you can hope for.  Most of the flights I have taken since coming back from Iraq are full and even beyond full—overbooked with gate agents offering a free flight to anyone who can wait another day to go home.

When I booked my flights to Paris and back, I followed my usual practice of getting an aisle seat as far back in the plane as I possibly can.  Both ways I was on a Delta/Air France flight.  They sold the ticket as Air France, but it was a Delta plane—a Boeing 757 that was built when the Beatles were still a group.  This long, narrow plane has 34 rows of  coach seating with three seats on either side of the center aisle and ten rows of first-class seating with two seats either side of the center—not quite 200 passengers if the plane is full.

On the way over we had just 57 passengers.  On the way back the gate agent said there were 70 empty seats.  From Row 37 back to Row 44, most of us had a row of seats to ourselves.  I have been eating and napping for the last four hours.  Travel to Europe does not get any better than this!

Touching Off an International Incident--in Brussels!

If the US goes to war with Iran over an incident in Brussels, Belgium, I just want to say in advance, "It was not my fault!"

On Sunday evening I flew to Paris for a conference.  Since air travel is SOOOOOO much nicer in uniform, and since I was actually on a drill weekend, I decided to wear my soldier suit for the trip over.

Now waiting in the security line at Philadelphia airport.  My oversize slightly overweight checked bag was not a problem.  (If you know there is a regulation against travel in uniform, just let me enjoy my ignorance.)  As I always do I booked an aisle seat as far back in the plane as I could.  As I got ready to board a very old extended range Boeing 757, the ground crew said there were only 50 passengers--I had three seats to myself.  A whole row---AAAHHHH!!!

But the plane was delayed for 45 minutes while they tried to fix a leak in the 40-year-old toilet.  We arrived late for Paris and I had to catch a train for Brussels that left 15 minutes after I got my bag.  I made the train, but was still in uniform.  No problem, I'll change in the bathroom.  I went into the bathroom when I got on the train.  The floor was sticky. I checked another car. Blue water on the floor.
When I got to Brussels, I met a colleague who was going with me for a site visit for an event in December.  She said we had to go right away, I did not have time to change.We got the facility, a beautiful meeting hall for 1200 people called The Square.  I took my camera (with a long lens) out of my pack and took pictures of the place we would set up a display.  Then the representative from The Square took us down to the actual meeting hall.  When we walked through the door to the lobby, there were a dozen dark-skinned men staring at me.  A couple of them were holding signage with Arabic symbols.  It turns out they were setting up for a meeting of the Iranian exile community in Europe the next day--in the main hall of The Square.

So I am standing in uniform with a camera in my hand looking at a bunch of Iranians getting ready for a party.

I decided I had seen enough of the meeting hall.  We went upstairs to talk about plans for December.

Wrapping up the numbers for 2010

It will soon be a year since I have returned from Iraq.  During this year, fewer people are reading the blog, but the surprising thing to me is that more than 2000 people per month at still visiting the blog, the lowest since my return, but more than I expected a year out.

Tomorrow is drill.  I won't be on duty Sunday because I am flying to France for a meeting.  It will be my first time out of the country on business since 2006.  Paris is my favorite city outside America.  It was my favorite city in the world, but New York is edging past.  Paris is beautiful.  New York is vibrant.  San Francisco is definitely third, and Singapore fourth.

In 2010 I rode fewer miles than in 2009!!  I am spending more time at work than I have in a decade and it shows in my riding logs.  But I have been spending more time running and in the gym.  I ran at least 60 miles each of the last four months in 2010 and should be able to continue the trend this month.  Maybe I will finally get the last few points on the PT Test and max it.  My last four PT tests have been 290 to 297, but never quite 300.

The verdict from S-1 is the only way I can retire is to get run over by a Humvee.  I'll probably stay as long as playing Army remains fun.

Happy Belated New Year!

Last in the How I Would Have Died series--Face/Off

Last Friday I wrote the last post in the series on How I Would Have Died if I Lived 100 Years Ago.  This time it was about how the plastic surgeon on duty in the Lancaster General Hospital Trauma Center put my face back together.

We have a CLS weekend coming up at drill--that's the acronym for Combat Life Saver.  I know it's important but I grew up when Lifesaver candy was popular.  Combat Life Saver sounds to me like circle-shaped, camouflaged candy.