London

Photos for now, write-up will come.

It's beeeeeg (and wobbly)

It all started off with a typical Air France lounge breakfast, it could have been the 10h30 to Houston, but it wasn't, this was a special weekend jol to London. What's so special about waking up early on Saturday to fly to London? The special part, was that there were 516 of us, and we weighed 360 tonnes.  

Air France is busy running some short hauls with their new Airbus A380. They sell it as a promotion, bringing this special experience to those that aren't destined for Jo'burg or New York. My suspicions were confirmed by the landing on the way back, I reckon it is more like training. Our A380 below, will apparently be taking on the Tokyo route in September.

Everything about this double decker beast feels big, one feels the inertia even when turning on the tarmac. Despite its size it is amazingly quiet, with completely effortless take-off. It really doesn't feel like one is going fast enough to get off the ground, and it certainly doesn't sound like it. The seats are a bit wider downstairs, and the walls are still going out by the time they hit the luggage storage, so there is a great feeling of space. Upstairs, however feels a bit more like a normal plane.

I really like it, except for one thing. They go about making this magic plane, and then they plonk in the old seat moulding with its crappy screen, handset and table. They've ignored all the potential to do something interesting with the interface with the passenger. It really feels like the changes are only in the fuselage, pity!

The wings hang when on the ground, and are relatively straight in flight, unlike the Boeing 777 that turn up with the effort of flying. I'm not sure I want to take on serious turbulence in this beast though. Everything is supple, so you wobble through the weather. I have always wondered why there are sick bags in modern planes; in all my flying, I don't think I've seen anyone hurling. I'm not sure it is going to stay that way, the wavy boat feeling may just do it in the future. Will this be the new vomit comet?

Being on the A380 leaves few opportunities to take a photo of it, so you'll have to make do with photos from it. From the top deck you do look down on the world. The A380 is obviously still something of a novelty at the airports, with at least 5 trucks stopping at Heathrow to take photos of us going by.

The Air France flagship coming home, crossing over the coastline. 

Mmm look at those lovely clouds, where's that barf bag?

Back home. The other models in the Air France fleet look quite little from here, even the 747 back there.

Wishing you a new experience weekend, without the wobble.

more Prague

The home of Pilsner, so naturally a trip to Prague must include a Urquell or two.

World Cup

I can only imagine what a party it must be back in South Africa. However, when talking to people overseas, inevitable the subject of violence and security comes up. Having watched the France, Uruguay game, I can now understand their concerns. If you attend this world cup, you probably won't get mugged, but you will return deaf.

So, forget the journalists and their quest for sensationalism. Your biggest danger is that monotonous goddam vuvuzela. Ja, you were all so excited about this wonderful African horn... what do you think about it now after the first two games? You going to make it through the month?

Delta

It's not called the Delta for nothing.

lagos

Czech horsepower

Praha

A long weekend in Prague, a city I could live in, although a beer gut would be inevitable.

Royal palace for 30" as seen from Charles Bridge

Domes and towers of the old city, from the Old City Tower of Charles Bridge

Muzeum metro station

Café Louvre - killer hot chocolate, lousy carrot cake

quarter

everyone else must pay cash.

Doesn't it strike you as odd, that one finds a statement like this on the American quarter? 

Equally intriguing, it is quite amazing the crud and scratches on the surface when seen up close. This is obtained by placing an inverted 35 mm lens on the end of a 105 mm macro, so that gives about a 1:3 magnification. Now I just need to find some bugs to sit still and pose. 

OK, no bugs, so the African Violet stamen will have to do. One of the difficulties of getting in close is the narrow depth of field. This is actually a composite of three different photos, with differing focal planes. I should have taken more, but it's a start. 

 

Stavanger

Only a month ago it was quite chillos, and now it is still light at 9pm. This is downtown Stavanger in the evening, after dinner, taken with a lousy Blackberry camera. I'm not sure why they bother with a camera like that on the phone, but then I guess that's just it... it's a phone after all. A nice evening in a cool little town.

change in the weather

A long time ago, my folks bought a barometer during a trip to France. It had nice words on it like 'beau' and 'variable'. After living in France for a while I'm not sure I understand how this barometer would have worked locally during winter, since I don't seem to remember a 'temps de merde' range. It was destined for export.

That weather is behind us now, and today is magic. How do I know that? Just like the weatherman, I don't need to look out the window. I have my very own French barometer. It consists of the photos on the fridge and walls. The lomo guys have these neat little plastic goodies called photoclips, which join photos together to hang on the wall. What they don't know, is that they're more reliable than any local 'meteo' office. When the photo is flat on the wall it is 'variable' to 'temps de merde', and when the photo is curled up away from the wall it is 'beau' to 'très beau'. Which suits me fine, 'cause when it is beau, I shouldn't be inside staring at the wall.

As you can see, today is très beau

c r i c k e t

It has been a long drought... but today I found that the IPL cricket is broadcast live on youtube yaaayyeeeeeeeeee.

So I gave up a few hours of a stunningly beautiful spring afternoon to be glued to my computer screen. It is as American as you can get, ads every over, and sometimes between balls, even pom pom girls. It was worth it to see a few South Africans give cricket lessons. 

Vive la criquette.

and Europe flies again...

It doesn't give one much faith that sophisticated planes and pilots can't avoid a dust cloud. Ah well, Europe is flying again, for now...

Q

France is a 'civilised' place. The public transport works, most the time. The TGV is amazing, albeit expensive. The cheese is great. The wines are super. The healthcare system is apparently the envy of most states. The roads aren't too schabby. The ski stations are well equipped. The national airline is up there (although the Boeing 777-200s on the Houston leg could do with replacement). The Seine is relatively clean. It is home to the brains behind commercialised nuclear power, and was home to some of the greatest artists. Think of it, they managed to turn  a piece of scaffolding into one of the world's biggest tourist attractions.

Why then, is it so difficult to organise a queue??? There are stacks of them, all the galleries, airports, metro stations, intersections... and no, such a civilised, developed place, with so many queues, hasn't yet worked out how to organise one. Next time you are in a foreign airport look around. The flight to Heathrow is boarding, and the passengers are in a queue. Oh look, New York, and a queue. The Russians are queing for St. Petersburg. Spot the flight to Charles de Gaul... yip that one with two hundred hooligans trying to elbow the competition to the gate. 

You've tried to cross an intersection in Paris during rush hour? You can't. This is made impossible by the guy perpendicular to you in the middle. No, he knew he wouldn't make it all the way across. That's the point! If he wasn't going to make it, there is no way in hell he was going to let you make it. So you hoot and call each other names. He probably goes on to do surgery, or design a power station that day... it's a difficult one, that complicated concept; the queue.

Last Sunday we bought reserved tickets for 11 am at the Yves Saint Laurent exhibition at the Petit Palais. The show opens at 10am. When we arrived at eleven, imagine our disgust to find that we had at least a two hour wait ahead of us. Yes, that's right, it one hour of show they managed to organise a two hour delay. How did they ever design the TGV? 

Speaking design, the YSL show is magic. There are hundreds of outfits on display, elegant, provocative, trend setting... really worth seeing. Worth two hours wait? No way, they don't deserve to earn money for such a bordel. Relax, step out of the queue, and do yourself a favour, take in the Negative exhibition nextdoor, interesting look at Italian photography in the 1850's, and if you stroll the corridors you may well just find yourself at the entrance of YSL, whilst outside, the insults are still being flung. It beats having to elbow you way to the front.

Sunday also saw 40 000 odd folk strung out in a sort of queue, all trying to beat their competition to the end. Congrats to those that took part in the Paris marathon, it was a lovely day for running.

Petit Palais

The best way to YSL expo

42,2 km through Paris

too long?

I was on my way home in a KLM plane. I looked down, and I caught myself dipping my stroopkoekje into my coffee... Does that mean that I have been in France too long?

It has been long enough, that I now write my phone number in pairs of numbers, and I don't feel the urged to have a plate beneath my bread. I even answer the phone with just an 'allo', in a suspicious way, just in case it's someone looking for me.  However, it's not a complete transformation; salad is not eaten after the main course, you should stand in the queue... and yes, you can be slightly considerate when driving! You in the Citröen, try it, it's rewarding in a feel-good kind of way. It doesn't even slow you down.

It isn't too long though, and Sarko's effort to keep the riff-raff at bay is perhaps in line with how long it takes to be 'integrated'; four years before one can ask for nationality, and it may just take that long. A brief stroll down the memory lane of French music, with a few friends, is all it took for me to realise I'm not there yet. To associated with most French artisty types, one has to be fully tormented, borderline depressive and live in a sparsely furnished loft apartment where you smoke and hang out with an anorexic model... looks like a scene out of a classic movie ;)

So I may not be completely ready, but a stroopkoekje tastes better dipped, and last weekend I even had my 'glass' of hot chocolate for breakfast from a bowl... that counts doesn't it.

Last weekend was out in the hills again, fresh snow and I-work-in-an-office-and-tried-cross-country-skiing kind of aches, beautiful.

Wishing you some changes of habit.

Expo

South Africa, and France, two places that are very different, but both are part of my reality, and now they share some space at an exhibition of photos. Below are some of the pictures on display. Yes, I know SA is more than just animals, and France is not just black and whites of Paris, but hey there is only so much wall space.

If you're in Paris, drop me a line in the comments, and I'll let you know where you can see them.