Ahhhhhh, here I am. Home, with my wife, my son, my house, and water from the tap with lots and lots of ice in it (what does Europe have against ice anyway?). I’m a wreck, but I’m home. It feels like 3am, and I’m going to sleep in a couple minutes. And to think, I get back on a plane in about 72 hours for SXSW. Who planned this?
Month: March 2004
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Where’s Kevin?
Kevin’s not at home, where he belongs. Kevin’s not at work, and he’s not in France where he was this morning. Where’s Kevin? Kevin’s in Frankfurt, Germany!!! Why? Why? Well, because the plane was over an hour late leaving Nice this morning, which means that Kevin missed his plane to Dulles.
Enough with the third person… I’m tired. I’m sore, because I’m an idiot and thought I could run to catch my other plane (little did I know that I had to catch a train, get my passport and bag checked, and run some more – all in 5 minutes). Didn’t happen. Didn’t make the plane. The guy at the gate when I walked up had a very funny look on his face. Ok, I didn’t walk. I kind of stumbled and ambled up.
I’m in a little room, in a gigantic hotel, listening to Late Edition while I use up my one hour of pre-paid it-ner-net. Then, it’s downstairs to dinner – maybe I’ll have something German.
OK, off I go… thanks a ton, Lufthansa.
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I Lied
Ok, I lied. Yesterday, we went to Cannes and wandered around. There are some pictures that are still on my camera that might make it online, but maybe not. Cannes was just a city with lots of shops (expensive, but still shops) to me.
Two and a half hours till I hop in a cab and go to the airport. Four hours until I take off in a plane headed for Frankfurt. Six hours until I take off again in a plane headed for home… and too many hours to count until I’m home with my family.
I can’t wait.
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The Art Foundation
We went to the Texas!
The conference was great. I learned a lot, met a lot of geeks, and finally feel like I’m “getting” it. We’ll see what happens…
UPDATE: I just found that the chateau has a website. Check it out for yourself. It’s a fascinating story that I didn’t do justice to in my crappy pictures.
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See? Gay People Are Real
I’d Leave the Country, but My Wife Won’t Let Me by Laura Conaway
This is one story. There are thousands more. Real people are affected by bigotry. They’re not just numbers, statistics, pictures in a book. They are real. Gay people exist. They love their partners. They want the same rights we, as straight people, have.
Women used to be their husbands’ property. It used to illegal for women to own land in this country. It was illegal for women to vote. It used to be illegal for interracial couples to marry. All of these problems were corrected. Women are no longer property. Women can vote. Heterosexual couples can marry anyone of any race, as long as their of legal age, and consent to the marriage. Why is it so hard to see that homosexual couples, who love each other, who are in committed relationships, should be allowed the same right?
The Constitution was never meant to limit rights. It was meant to guarantee them. It is our duty to “secure the Blessings of Liberty” and not stand in the way of couples who want to further strengthen society by forming the bonds of marriage – marriage as viewed by the State, not by whichever God you worship.
Just because you may think their love in invalid, or that maybe you just want them to go away – they won’t. Homosexuality exists. Homosexuals exist. They are real people, with feelings, families, and lives. All of the feelings they have are a valid as your own. Their desire to marry is as valid as your’s, and we shouldn’t be standing in the way of people willing to enter into a loving, committed relationship.
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Yes, We Have More Pictures
I have more pictures. I really do. I mean it, and I’m not kidding.
I am having a good time… I think I’ve figured out what’s going on to a point that I can start feeling comfortable. I’ve met some really fun people, and we’re having fun. Last night was the big cocktail party, and I spent three hours at a table with six other people laughing our (very sore) butts off. Why sore? The chairs here in the meetings rooms are horrible. My back and hindparts are very sore after sitting on them all day in torture chairs.
OK, off I go… back to meetings.
I’m a Geek!
First of all, I had fois gras for the first time last night, and it was fabulous. How come no one told me?
Second, I am so not a major geek. I’m a definite lower-case geek. Compared to the people here, I’m a guy off the street. Which makes me smile, in a way. A lot of the people here are big-G Geeks. They are implementors and the people who build the things that I use every day to communicate (web browsers, for instance). I am a user. I’m a user of the standards the W3C comes up with, and I’m a user of the products these standards are used in. I create documents that follow these standards and are displayed in their products. I am horribly out-numbered.
At least now, I know my role. I am the representative of the regular “author” or “user” of the standard, not of the implementor. It means I better get my act together (and to that end, I now own a module, which is kinda scary).
This week is alternately boring (when I don’t understand what’s going on), and interesting (when I do). The food is amazing for the most part, and I’m having a ball with the language (and my lack thereof). What fun! Next week… Texas!!
They Like Us, They Really Like Us!
We’ve heard that the French hate us. That they don’t like America. It’s not true. Don’t believe it. I haven’t been here for very long, and was fully expecting to have to say I was Canadian to escape a hassle. I didn’t have to. I have had a great experience with everyone I’ve met here, both in Paris (apparently the hub of this anti-Americanism) and here in Cannes. Most people speak English, their TV is full of American shows, and no one has made that classic French face of disgust.
I think I also realize why most people here speak English. It’s not that they’ve got some superior education system or we’re just dumb for not all learning a foreign language to the point of comfortable conversation. It’s’ that they almost have to. English is, oddly enough, the common language not only of business, but of entertainment, and it seems of Europe. I was watching a German snowboarding show the other night, where snowboarders from four or five different countries were interviewed. The German interviewer spoke to the foreign athletes in English, and the athletes answered back.
In Paris, I went into a little boulangerie (bakery) near my hotel and stumbled through ordering a sandwich and some beignets. The young man behind the counter pegged me right away as American, and seemed really happy to be able to practice his English. I ordered in my crap French. He replied in his stilted English, and we had a laugh.
Here, in the hotel restaurant (which is unbelievably good), almost everyone speaks English. There’s one older man who doesn’t, and seems apologetic about it. I don’t get that. I should be the one apologizing. I came into his country, and I don’t speak the language. I’m embarrassed at how bad my French is, which I think has helped me get along with the people I’ve met so far here. I try French first, if that doesn’t work, I ask if they speak English (in French), and then thank them if they say they do (again in French). So far, I haven’t had any trouble with people refusing to speak English (I was warned by several people that Parisians will watch you struggle just for the fun of it). Now, I have had some funny experiences with us both speaking English and us still not understanding each other, but it’s not for lack of trying, and it usually ends in a laugh.
The French don’t hate us. There’s no reason for us to have “freedom fries” or dump French wine. Doing so doesn’t hurt the French government (which is who we may have a problem with), it makes us look silly.