John Talbott's Paris

Trends: Grey is the new Black.

Picture blurred to protect the innocent who did not give signed permission.

As I entered the Orangerie with about 20 Parisian women of uncertain ages, I noted that 42.5% (I made that up, but it sounds correct) of them were wearing grey blouses/etc., above whatever their dresses/smocks/jeans were colored below.  My Lord, worse than rich adolescents in the US.

Hats off to Bono: The NYT/IHT and he score again.

Bono; another guy who rises above it all; his piece in the NYT-IHT was so generous and so good and so insightful.

Give the Dude citizenship right away; he deserves it!

Continental takes over beloved United 914/915 route Dulles- Paris with diasterous results.

I must give some background.  First, I’m a frequent flyer, having logged in a million miles at United alone. 

Second, while I love to be treated as a special person, as a Frequent Flyer on airlines or a very senior Professor/Physician at medical centers or Congresses or by publishers, I always wonder if I were a poor, harried, scared 23-year old, non-perfectly-speaking-English immigrant, would I be treated equally.  And third, I come in with lots of prejudices, that is pre-judgments, about Continental, about CEO Jeff (no tie, must mean a common man, cool guy) Smisek’s claim that the new merger creates the “greatest airline in the world,” and about United’s judgment/business decision/etc in turning over one of its most valued routes – Dulles-Paris – to Continental.  Now lest you think this is just one more cranky old guy complaining, in looking up Smisek on Google I came across this:

“In my opinion Jeff Smisek has taken my airline of choice Continental that I have flown for over 20 years and run it into the ground. What is going on? I have been on several Trans Atlantic crossing with not enough flight attendants, crappy food, and broken video systems.”

OK. Get to the point Dad, as my kids would say.

Last night’s flight #130 Dulles-CdG,   This is a route I’ve been taking since 1985, which until October 1^st, was run very efficiently and very effectively, by United; I take it twice a month (old UAL 914/915, now Cont 130/131).  The staff, ground and cabin crew as well as pilots, male and increasingly female, under United, loved their jobs, even during the tough years, had connections in France (daughters, families, friends).  They were devastated to be offered reassignments to Lord-knows-where.

So I figure I’ve got little choice – a million miles, let’s throw a little good money after bad. See what Mr. Smisek can do.  Oh I timed my distance to Phila for USAir which had two seats for you and your partner/50 year wife/or business associate. 

Your cabin crew says “We know you have a choice of airlines…….”  Mr. Smisek, we do.

Last night.  I had an Economy ticket, granted in the primo seat in the primo row – 21 C, thank God I can still go to the United Red Carpet Club (but for how long?) and then got in line for the 5:05 PM departure.   Problems:

1. 45 minute delay; announced as 20 minutes, no reason given – do you have any idea how crazy that makes people?  – just say “We don’t know what’s wrong, the computers are out, the engineers are looking into it, we were delayed by snow in Maine – whatever.”
2. I  found and got into my 21C seat (Row 21 A-C was the only row in the area with someone in the middle seat – so be it.)
3. But the TV screen was scrolling down.  And down.  And down.  I give a wave to the smiling male tattooed Flight Attendant (the only male in the Economy cabin); "oh," he says, “Don’t worry, it’s just booting up.”  I wait 20 minutes, it keeps scrolling down.  And down.  And down.  I ask him to help again – and suddenly he becomes snippy – have I questioned his authority, the technology of Continental, what?  As dinner was served, no cocktails first, no Sir, dinner first, cocktails later – Huh?  The blonde F.A. (there were two and I didn’t see her badge and thus didn’t get her name but she deserves a medal) who did liquids leaned over and I asked if she could either get the TV fixed (since the  aforementioned guy couldn’t have given less of a hoot) or get it turned off.  She refused my payment for wine and was apologetic/nice/appropriate but the scrolling continued all night. 
4. The food.  Now after 60 years of flying, I realize that airplane food is a lost cause and my beloved wife of 50 years insists on taking our own.  Whether it’s sushi from San Diego or Wolfgang Puck from Denver or cheese from Quatre’Homme in Paris, it works.  To add insult to injury, last month I flew First Class on #130 and had what was the most uncuttable, most tasteless and most inedible piece of beef I’ve ever had, and as a sometime food writer, I’ve eaten a lot of bad beef.  So I was not surprised that my Economy Class chicken last night was tasteless – what was surprising was the rancid sauce.

One is always advised to say what remedies one wishes.  Simple:

1. It's clear that the entire staff needs training/coaching/charm school stuff (the ground staff at CdG clearly doesn’t want to be there.)
2. Sensible seating; that is: some First Class, lots of Business Class, ample Economy Plus and an end to 3-3 and restoration of 2-5-2.
3. Or return the route to the superb United team who are trying hard to fill in the ghastly gaps Continental has created.

The death of my "friend" Steve Jobs.

Like the world, I knew Steve Jobs' stepping down as CEO of Apple in August after several years dealing with pancreatic cancer was the beginning of the end.  But I read somewhere where he had three great new products left to present to us and I hoped he could live long enough to see them come alive.  We'll probably never know if he conveyed to Tim Cook the ideas in the past few weeks but sure I hope he did.

I typed my first book on a Mac and acquired my last electronic device, an iPad, only a while ago; plus I'm now listening to my iPod playing Chopin in my Montmartre garret and my oldest multi-talented grand-daughter makes films on her Apple.  In some ways then, although I've never shaken Steve Jobs' hand, I've been the beneficiary of his genius throughout my career and am indebted to him.

(Design credit: Jonathan Mak)

I think the finest tributes were the 19 year old Hong Kong student's montage above that apparently went viral yesterday on Facebook and a full editorial page in Figaro that translated word-for-word his famous "Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish" 2005 commencement talk at Stanford.

Bye-bye Steve, we'll miss you.

Some cool (to this geezer's eyes) restaurant signs seen today.

 
 
 
 
 

Political questions in France & the US: Who's in charge?

In France, Sarko the American is in India and Fillon the Brit is in Moscow, so who's minding the store?  Alexander Haig?

The nurses in anger of course. 

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Contrast this with the US where my Democrats, deadset on losing the 2012 election, have grumbled about the brightest guy inside the Beltway working a deal with the GOP and calling for a "real liberal" to challenge Barry.  OK smarties, who are you proposing:

Howard Dean against Sarah Palin?  (Actually that might just work)

Barney Frank (the second smartest guy) against Rudy Guliani? (Hummmm)

Nancy Pelosi against Mike Huckabee?  (Nah)

Babs Mikulski against Mitt aka Milt Romney (a non-starter)

 

 

Bureaucracy: France is awful? Not when it comes to comparing it with the US Passport Agency.

The French are bureaucratic, rude and don't understand us; that's for sure, eh? 
Americans are can-do, nice and respond to our every request; even truer.

Scene:  The Washington DC US Passport Agency, 1111 19th St NW.

Background: My passport is getting close to full of entry stamps from French Immigration and the Department of State's "Catch-22" rule is it must have fewer than 2-3 pages left, one must be travelling within 14 days and therefore, as is my case each month, I cannot mail it in but must appear in person at a somewhat centrally located office for prompt "expedited" (eg $60) service.

History: The last time this happened, I went in sans appointment and they glued the pages in zip-zip; total time 10 minutes max.

Cast:
Security guards
Receptionist
Clerks
Supervisor
Manager
Me (in grey suit, colorful stripped shirt, bow tie and brief case, wearing cheap Indian scarf purchased outside the Gare Montparnasse).

Time: Approaching 10 AM (my appointment was for 10:30).

Enter

Male security guard: Welcome, please empty your.........etc.

Me: I'm a bit early - it says one will not be admitted more than 15 minutes in advance.

Female security guard: What a lovely scarf, Sir!  Go straight through, they'll see you right away.

Receptionist: Sir, that's a great scarf, oh, you've already filled out the form and have your e-ticket and passport, have a seat, we'll be right with you.

An acceptable wait - say 20 minutes and I'm called.

Clerk:  Good morning Sir, how are you, etc., oh I see you have everything here, excellent, just pay me the [exorbitant] $142 for the [measly] 23 1/2 pages and you can pick it up at 2 PM today or if you'd like, tomorrow.

Me: Hummmm.  Seems like last time, they just put them in zip-zip in a few seconds.

Clerk: Not anymore Sir.

Me:  OK, I'll be back at 2, but I have a meeting then up at the Marriott, do you think it might be ready before then.

Clerk: Perhaps Sir, take this slip over to #13 and see.

Me (at Booth #13): I've got this meeting at 2 PM at the Marriott, any chance I could pick it up at 1:45?

Clerk #13: Perhaps Sir.

Pause for a great luncheon at Vidalia, 1/2 block away and return.

Enter

Security guard: Welcome (again) Sir.

Inside security guard: Go right up to #13.

Me: Hi, it's me again, is my passport ready?

#13: No Sir, not yet, we'll call you.

One hour goes by, I've made four visits to #13 and received the same charming, nice reception and reply - but no passport.

Me: What does 2 PM mean?

#13: It means 2 PM and later.

Me: Oh. Is there any way I can expedite things?

#13: You've already paid our [exorbitant] $60 expedition fee.

Me: So nothing, eh?

#13: Well, do you want to see a supervisor.

Me: {Balloon: "What a great idea"} Thanks, yes.

#13: Well, just go over to the receptionist and ask for a "D" number.  (Music for Alice's Restaurant intrudes - Group "W" bench  beckons.)

Get "D" number, 20 minutes goes by, Supervisor calls me.

Me: Hi, how are you, anything you can do to speed things up.

She: (very nicely) No, you'll just have to wait to be called. 

Me: This is very strange, last time I got these pages it took a few seconds while the guy put them in zip-zip while I waited.

She:  Well, Sir, now it takes seven steps.

Me: Finally expressing my inner Tea Party self - You need a manager.

She: We have one.

Me: You need a new one.

3:20: Finally called (nicely), get passport.

Exeunt all.

Lesson:  French bureaucracy has a lot to learn from us: commenting on great (cheap) scarves, being super-nice and avoiding cross-training so to avoid having to insert 24-pages of visa sheets zip-zip.

State of the Union: I always suspected we were sliding into the 3rd World ranking - based on infant mortality, lack of universal health care, high-low income differential and delusions of past grandeur - but Mrs. Clinton's Department's jolly inefficiency proves it.

How I spent my afternoon by John Talbott: Paris 75018, France, Europe, The World, Solar System, Milky Way Galaxy, etc.

OK, I had a nice lunch and all the good intentions in the world at spending the afternoon scoping the pix of Bettina Rheims,

whose intriguing poster I didn't get permission to reproduce but which is at Jed Root's blog.  So instead I decided to walk thru the Gardens of the Palais Royal and see what was up:

OK, some performance art

 

and some sculpture

and the inevitably reinstalled van Buren things. F Finding myself with some time, I decided I'd move all Finding myself with some time, I remembered that I needed to move my winter clothes to their summer storage space and vice versa, since Meteo France declared this the first day of summer.  But there was one problem, I'd torn off a button on a winter suit pant trouser and had to reattach it. 

 

Haven't sewn a button on since my Army days and I wondered, how did our 90-year-old grandmothers thread a needle? - my goodness, it took me 20 tries.  So that's it.  How I spent my day.

 

Now back to business.

 

French Socialized Medicine, Commies and Barackorama.

This is not for Tea Party loyalists, birthers or folks who don't believe in evolution.  Stop reading now or Ron Paul, a doctor I'm ashamed to say, (but so is/was Radovan Karadzic, the "Butcher of Bosnia) will come and get you.

A dear friend of mine was hauled off to our local (Socialized Medicine) public hospital with two serious diagnoses Thursday and I figured that there might be enough scans and tests done by now to get some solid info so I went visiting today.  On my way, along with the usual medical eqpt shops 
I passed:

 

Whoops, not what I wanted to see, poor juxtaposition, but then came:

Corsets and throat-supports, so all was well.  But back to Commie Medicine in France.  A few days ago another long-time social worker friend, who's practiced in French hospitals and outpatient settings forever was bemoaning the funding cuts and over-crowding in Parisian hospitals so I braced myself as I entered our local public, state pays all, supposedly crummy place, expecting Bellevue circa 1950.

Not bad eh?  Caillebotte poster, elevators and escalators that worked, clean floors, modern lighting, nice visitors' chairs in rooms, modern monitoring eqpt and efficient beds, extremely nice Acceuil Lady and attentive nurses and a sense that this place is just as good at NYU/Tisch or the University of Maryland/Gudelsky or wherever.  So bring on Barackorama-Obamacare!  If this is the future for us in the US, I'm just fine.

Pizza, Risotto and French Fries: "Can't anybody here play this game?"

"Can't anybody here play this game?" is misattributed to Yogi Berra but was actually said by his mentor/manager Casey Stengel who also noted about Berra that "He'd fall in a sewer and come up with a gold watch."

To my point, I had a dinner (if you can call it that) at a neighborhood Italian/Pizza place because, well you don't won't to know, let's just say like we did to our chidren - "Because."

I enter with no expectations and like in Italy the TV is on - good sign - except it's not futball but some esoteric French oceanography thing but there's a real pizza oven and holding myself back from ordering a full order of linguine special with vongole, I ask demurely could I have a half-order as a starter - without batting an eye she says with her eyes "Idiot" but her lips "Sure, at the same price."  Loss of 6 E there.

So I plunge into a Pizza Regina.   And, it's got a soggy crust and crummy/crumby ingredients but better than usual spicy/spicey oil, so I do my duty. 

But all the while I'm thinking, how come when I'm in Nice/Lugano/Mont Blanc - the pizza, made by Italians, is horrible, while in Courmeyer/Ventimiglia/Valsoda it's wonderful?  And why can't even the Italians make risotto outside of Milano and why can't the French (and Americans) make French fries?  I know, Belgian goosefat.

These are greater questions than "is God Dead?" or "is Elvis alive?" or even "does it really matter?"