travels

Phone, St. Tropez, and autre detritus

I received directions from mademoiselle at the front desk to a phone store, to le Geant, a WalMart with a French name. I drove out of town looking despairingly at the stalled traffic attempting to enter and found the phone store. (Not before seeing two camels grazing by the side of the road, apparently part of a fair. Hunter Thompson indeed.) The very nice man at the store attempted to fix my phone to no avail, I ended up purchasing a new, very cheap one; not at all like my tres moderne Razr but it works, which is very much better. Function before form, after all. The good news is that I conducted the entire day in French, getting directions and figuring out the phone. They understood me, I basically understood them and no one had to repeat themselves. I try to imagine what I sound like, imagining someone speaking heavily accented broken English, and hope that it's not too bad. I'm sure I get points for trying and I've achieved all my objectives so all is well.

On the way home, while sitting in traffic, I called Tim to check in and get Colin's number. Tim informed me that at that moment, he learned that Adobe and Macromedia had merged, which caused a long moment of silence on my part while I absorbed the information. It is not particularly surprising when one thinks of it, but I hadn't thought of it. I have six more weeks of travel, so it will be some time before I fully grasp the implications.

I am now in an Internet cafe - Le Giraffe - with a fine, hardwire connection and a panache (beer and lemondade). I’m going to take advantage of the connection and upload some photos for your visual enjoyment. Bon soir.

Phase 1.5

Phase 1.5

It began at dinner, where my classmate Simon was feeling ennui. Simon is a Brit and I’m sure pronounces his name exactly as you just read it - Si-mon - but we used the French pronunciation and called him See-mo - the name I will think of when I think of him. I asked him if he could do anything to cure this feeling, what would it be? To which he responded and for this I will always respect him, I want to go to Monte Carlo and lose all of my money on one hand of blackjack. As the world’s greatest enabler, I couldn’t let such a mission remain a wishful thought so I uttered the only possible response - Let‘s Go. We finished dinner and began the good-byes, final pictures, and remembrances that comprise one’s last evening with a group. I could tell that Seemo was going back and forth in his mind about the viability of such an excursion but eventually curiosity won out and he approached me and told me to be ready. It was really no big deal for me, I had just about packed and the only thing left to do was get a ride to Marseille the next morning to retrieve my car. (In the interest of full disclosure, as I write this, my mind is thinking both the words that I’m committing to this page and the French equivalent, which I’m sure are only partially correct, in pronunciation if not in structure.)

I went back to my room and finished throwing things into my bags, a process made easier by time being more important than good organization. I had hoped to escape into the night by telling only an organizer that I was leaving and leaving my good-byes for later emails but it was not to be. At least five other participants and one instructor waylaid us on the way to the car and I’m sure we were a hot topic at breakfast the next day. Who leaves at 10 PM and drives to Monaco? Well, Seemo and me for one; I hope that there are others.

Once again, I must describe my setting, as I probably will with each entry. It’s just too interesting not to. And that is the point of this blog, yes? I’m sitting in an outdoor cafe on the old port of St. Tropez. A busker just began playing guitar and singing at the cafe two doors down. He’s not bad in the singer songwriter way. For my guitar inclined friends, it looks like he’s strumming a Martin, so he must not do too badly. There are about eight boats that cost the GNP of a small country docked within sight. It’s colder than it should be for my optimistic skirt but just about right for my new sweater. The cafe has a modern motif, with the outdoor chairs facsimiles of the (Eames?) tulip chairs. It is Monday and there are many strolling around sporting more or fewer layers according to their optimism or temperament. There are enough school-aged children to make me think it is school vacation somewhere. I know it was last week in Provence, perhaps these families are squeezing in one extra day. The busker is now singing a song with a refrain that has St. Tropez in it, reinforcing my initial thought that he is kind of a French Jimmy Buffet.

Alors, back to adventures with Seemo. After a little fussing about finding the right road, we began our adventure, wending our way down French country roads through small Provencal towns to the A8. As Seemo had some experience getting to and from Nice he basically knew the way. Radiohead was playing through the trusty Sony speakers, whose alarming lack of bass becomes apparent in the car but it was wonderful nonetheless. We both knew all the songs anyway so even a suggestion of a song was enough to satisfy us. As is the case with all good road trips, Thom would utter the perfect line that captured the exact moment. It would be eerie if I’d not experienced it before, as it was, I took it as a blessing. It rained on and off, not enough to make it dangerous, only atmospheric.

Eventually, we ended up in Monte Carlo. It was about 1 AM but who cares, as the casinos are open all night. We didn’t know, in any way, where we were or where we were going but as we turned a corner, there was L’Hermitage in all its glory. What could one do but enter and inquire if they had rooms available for the night? We did and they did; we inquired about the casinos. They were all closed, the monsieur assured us, all was closed. I thought it odd but perhaps my understanding of the place was in error. No, it was the day of Prince Rainier’s funeral and all was closed in his honor. The mission was delayed but the spirit was quite enough to keep us happy. The hotel was wonderful, the service impeccable and there was even a thunderstorm to watch from the terraces overlooking the harbor and the start/finish line of the F1 race.

The next day, I spent the morning lazing about whilst Seemo tried to find a casino to complete his mission. It was not to be as they opened at 5 PM and I needed to be in Marseille by 4 to pick up my car. The next few hours were spent traveling the A8 to Marseille and back to Nice, dropping off one car and picking up another. It was uneventful but a shame as it would have been better to spend the time seeing something of the Cote d'Azur. We ended up in Nice at 7 and found went to the Negresco, a hotel with a much better reputation than it deserves. It was fun nonetheless as we enjoyed a grande repas and a stroll along the water.

The next day, we had breakfast in the truly garish cafe in the hotel. It attempted to decorate itself as a carousel, with pink , green, and white icing, the booths little carousel seats and horses circling the perimeter. Every now and then music would sound and the horses would prance up and down on their poles while the . It was nightmarish and I felt the only way to truly experience it was a la Hunter Thompson. Fear and loathing in Nice.

After, I took Seemo to the airport, a task usually performed with only thoughts of pending travel but made more difficult by the very broken suitcase. When Seemo arrived, the French police decided his bag was a bomb threat and cut it open with a knife. Of course, there was no bomb and apparently they claim they could not employ the zipper to open the bag as it most certainly would have set off the imagined bomb. This made checking in and out of hotels amusing with the suitcase jury rigged with a strap holding it together and belongings threatening to exit at any moment but presented real difficulties for boarding the plane. All turned out well, as the nice woman in the airport office wrapped the suitcase in approximately 27,000 straps and air itself could not escape. At this point, Seemo was on his way and I was left to retrieve my car from the car park and head to St. Tropez. Le commencement a phase deux.

Phase Deux

Phase one of the adventure is over, phase two has officially begun. I may have actually moved to phase three or probably more accurately, there was a phase one and a half. I'll explain in a minute. Let me first explain my exterior and interior setting. My exterior is the Hotel Sube which is located smack in the middle of the old port in St. Tropez. The room is small, simple and comfortable. The double bed and its white cotton spread take up the majority of the room and the single window looks out onto a large palm tree. I'm sitting on the bed, lazily eating breakfast from a tray. The breakfast is typical and does not vary much from place to place - coffee, bread, jam, maybe a croissant or small pastry. The coffee is good and madam brought a small jug of fresh, warm milk which is so good I believe it to be unpasteurized. The iPod and his little Sony speakers are on random all and just moved from Sinead O'Connor's _Nothing Compares 2 U_ to White Stripes' _Cannon_. I didn't even know I had any Sinead O'Connor

My interior setting is a little jumbled. I awoke at 8:30 this morning after a long and much needed sleep. I spent most of the evening dozing with the very small television, perched on an equally small platform about a foot from the ceiling, tuned to dubbed British and American movies - Inspector Frost and some Lou Gosset stick. I was surprised at how much of it I could understand though I was so tired I watched only five or ten minutes at a stretch. My brain is still doing this split duty thing, thinking thoughts in English and immediately translating everything to French. I've even caught it thinking the first bit in French and translating it into English. It is now doing triple duty as it tries to craft readable prose out of its simple English thoughts. It's odd, as my mind works at creating thoughts in two langugages, it has no room or energy for extraneous words or thoughts. I cannot recall even the simplest memories, what actor played what role, the name of my favorite Beck song, or the more descriptive English words. I'm left with good, fine, can, can't, who, what, where, when, and how. It's serviceable, if not elegant. Yesterday, I discovered a little note on the tourist office, indicating that they are a WiFi hot zone, so I'm hoping the stretch of outdoor cafes along the port benefit from this and I can spend lunch time posting this and reading and sending emails. I'm a touch worried about my big bag, which is locked in the trunk of the car in the public parking lot; the hotel has no parking and no doorman, getting my bags from car to room was my task. I just couldn't schlep two months worth of my belongings across the crowded, cobbled streets, despite the wariness I had for leaving anything in the trunk. It is a crowded area though, full of yachts and people who like to look at them and the lot has security. I'm hoping for the best as one does after they've done something potentially stupid. The ultimate wisdom of the decision is in the outcome, which I won't know for a little while yet.

As I'm in St. Tropez the astute of you realize that I've finished my French course. It was a wonderful, wonderful experience; the people in the course and those who run it were, to a person, interesting, interested beings. I received my certificate and evaluation on Friday evening, which came as no surprise. My written and reading skills are reasonably high, I still struggle with listening and speaking. For starting at zero in June, I not terribly concerned and I have a few more weeks to practice. I've conducted a few scenarios completely in French, and though they were simple, I was pleased with myself.

Yesterday, I ate a small, very late lunch or early supper in a cafe just outside my hotel, then walked around a small part of old St. Tropez. It is a beach town with tourists and a disproportionate number of shops open on a Sunday evening. The sun peeked in and out of the clouds and I stopped to buy an off-white cotton and silk sweater to keep warm. Its texture and color reminds me of what you might throw on after a long day on the water, when the wind begins to chill your slightly sunburned skin. The streets are narrow, the shops luxe and there were at least five groups of men playing boules in the small park. I heard a smattering of English and German but mostly French. Today, I must contend with mostly practical matters, find a mobile phone shop to try to deal with my phone / SIM card issue. Despite a brand new SIM, I can't get it to work. I'd also like to find a leather shop to see if I can repair the little nubbin on my leather bag that holds down the flap over the pocket. It came off in a trick I could only attribute to a professional magician. This very large brass fitting escaped through a very, very small hole and I have no idea how to make it get back in there and do its job. I'd hoped to do laundry too but that seems a little ambitious due to the crowds, parking, hotel, luggage situation. I'm also planning on clearing up a little paperwork and studying a bit of French. Along with exploring more of the town, that should take up the day. It's a little cloudy today and I've not yet opened the window to figure out the temperature (il fait frois ou il fait chaud?) but I anticipate the high 50's low 60's it's been.

Ah - and about phase 1.5? I've reached my limit on prose and I anticipate you've reached yours as well. I'll leave it until next time. Suffice it to say that it began with a mission and ended in an airport two countries, three cities, two cars, and one very broken suitcase later.

To my family (and others who have written)

still struggling with the technology here. the sim card in my phone gave up the ghost and i'm pressed for time here in aix which means the following: i have read and very much appreciate your emails and even though i'm not responding today i will so you should keep writing them. i haven't received voice mails but will call as soon as humanly possible.

Finally a reliable connection - in Aix

I'm sitting in a lovely little cafe in Aix-en-Provence coiffing a beer and working on my very own computer. The folks who run the course were kind enough to offer an outing today (Saturday) and brought a number of us to Aix; the others are on a hike around the Gorge du Verdon. Since I was jonesing for a connection and a little city life, I chose Aix.

Things are going well, I continue to struggle with the language though I'm improving. I can understand the gist of most conversations but I sure don't speak so well. I'm in this twilight place where I'm thinking simultaneously in French and in English and you can imagine that my thoughts have slowed down considerably as I translate in my mind. Everyone is very nice to me and patient as I take my time forming sentences.

Mornings are in the classroom, which I love. It's the right speed and the right material and it gives me hope. Afternoons, we go on outings: Tuesday we hiked to Les Moustiers, Wednesday we visited the L'Occitane, Thursday we hiked to Riez to visit a beekeeper, Friday we visited a man who cultivates truffles. Each outing was conducted, as is everyday, entirely in French. It's amazing how much one can understand without understanding each word. Everyone who has been good enough to show us their work has been amazingly kind and truly interested in imparting what information they can. The gentleman with the truffle farm was especially sweet. He first took us through a PowerPoint presentation that explained the history of truffle cultivation, the horticultural aspects of it and the ups and downs of the business. As he says, it's not an occupation, it's a passion. No one would be crazy enough to do it for the money. After we viewed the presentation, we went out with his dog to hunt truffles, which the dog found immediately (small ones, as it's quite off-season) then we visited the fields of small oak tress that are home to the malady that creates truffles. With all that he does to cultivate them, the actually process is a mystery - it's magic, he tells us. After the tour, we repaired to a picnic table where he served us (on platters, with proper drinking glasses) Muscat and bits of toast with butter and truffles. It was a moment. I forgot my USB cable or I would upload the photos - those will come later.

It's interesting, I wondered who I would be as I lived without the weapon of language and it turns out I'm just me. I certainly can't verbalize much of what I want to but I know that the people I'm with have a very accurate sense of who I am. It makes me wonder what it is that gives people a sense of person, as it's clearly not just language.

Here in Aix, I spent this afternoon with a lovely woman from our course who is originally from Scotland and England but has spent most of her life in Canada. She now lives in the South of France, on the Cote d'Azur. We spoke English, spending a large amount of time with me and only speaking French would drive one crazy. I'm so glad we did as I was able to hear her life's story. At least as much of it as one can fit into a couple of hours. I was facinated she spoke of her begninings in theatre at the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre (now the Royal Shakespeare Company) where she worked alongside Gielgud, Olivier, Redgrave, Leigh, Ashcroft and all the other luminaries of English theater. She emigrated to Canada in the late '50's where she worked in theater in Toronto, Stratford, and Ottawa. She worked for the Canada Council for the Arts producing theater for the Centenial, she worked for the CBC finding new writers to produce, she directed and produced and generally spent her life in the arts in the '60s, 70's, 80's and onward. I know that I was exposed to only the broadest strokes of her life but I want desperately to hear more. I'm hoping we can sneak off somewhere next week to speak English again. I urged her to write it down and my mission before I leave is to convince her of the importance.

Tomorrow I do laundry and study; I have to make a ten minute presentation on Monday which will take me a good bit of work to prepare. Next week I'll continue my struggles and will come out the other end and begin my travels.

Arrgh, it lost my post

I just finished a very long post about my experiences so far and the connection went down as I saved it. UGH. I don't want to leave my faithful readers without a little more information, so I will create a synopsis.

French improving but it's very, very difficult. À Etats-Unis, je suis intelligent; à France; je suis un idiot. The setting is beautiful, the people are very nice and the food is amazing (trés jolie, trés gentil, trés, trés bonne). Yesterday we hiked about 6k across the mountains to the local village (Les Moustiers) and I learned the words for the flora and fauna, the animals, and the local history. Now I study (fais de devoirs).

J'ai arrivé

Oh la la. Alors, je suis ici.

Ok, I'm here. I'm typing on a French keyboard (clavier francais) which, like the rest of the country, is just enough different from what I know to make it very slow going.

The trip over was uneventful but long. I aquired a flu bug Wednesday in San Francisco which wiped me out. In that I had to fly home on Thursday night, pack, close down my work stuff, and get on a plane by Saturday afternoon, having a fever and a head full of gunk was the last thing I needed. Packing was a rather haphazard affair (and believe me, there are a million things I wish I'd brought) I didn't sleep much on the plane since I couldn't breathe, and I spent all day Sunday in the airport (the morning in Paris and the afternoon in Marseille). As I felt my brain slip quietly into a coma, I prayed that the instructors of the language course would ease into this whole parle francais 24/7 thing. But no! Catherine picked us up at the airport and it began.

Uhoh, it turns out my class is meeting now. More later...

France and the online world

I live much of my life online and for good reason. It's part of my job but more importantly, it allows me to accomplish things on my schedule. No driving around looking for goods, no store hours, massive amounts of research at my finger tips. In general, I don't want to deal with people, it's much more effective to find the information I need and complete tasks on my own than trying to describe to someone what I want. I  shop, book travel, bank, buy tickets for shows and music, and communicate on my computer. I do it at home, at work, in cafes, in airports. The internet is open 24/7, I don't have to worry about making time during the day or being on the road, it's the same world no matter where I am or what time it is.

Planning for this trip, I naturally started online. While it was clear that I was going to buy guide books, they're not online and I do want something to toss into a bag, I did research which books were likely to target a traveler like me and purchased them on Amazon. (Note: Karen Brown's site offers itineraries in PDF form for about $3.95 a piece and they were very useful.) I studied sites where I had reward points to figure out what I could reward myself with in France and easily planned and booked hotels and airfare. What is weird is where it started to break down.

Many hotels sites take reservations but the process is ended by a call or a fax. Other hotels not only don't take reservations online, they only take them by phone. The language school I'm attending advertises online, has an extensive web site and allows you to sign up online. I filled out the forms and they responded by sending me large paper packages that contained exactly the information I accessed online. And even though I submitted my information online, it turns out I have to fax a form to them (I have no idea where the form is, I still need to figure that bit out). 

The US companies are not immune either. In February, I filled out the forms at Europe by Car to lease a car. When I didn't hear from them, I tried again. Still nothing, so I wrote an email.  They answered a couple of days later saying that the forms were only for leasing. I replied that was what I wanted. I finally had to call to find out that they hadn't received either of my submissions, didn't seem to think this was a problem and that it was too late to arrange for the car. I ended up having to pay a rush fee, overnight written forms and suffer angst over not getting the car I wanted (I really, really wanted a convertible for that drive from Nice to Monaco - see first post). At this point it looks like it's going to be ok but what a lot of time and energy for something that should have been taken care of (for less expense to the business too).

Three hotels and a French travel site were very good however. Michel Bras (their customer service has been impeccable and I'm expecting the experience will be too) the Windsor in Nice, the Villa St. Maxime, and the France Hotel Reservation site all let me live the online lifestyle. They followed up with very nice confirmation emails and in one case, a call when the price changed.

Here's what I take from this. What I'm looking forward to experiencing in France - small, independently owned businesses, a slower lifestyle, a sharper focus on the moment - is exactly why these people don't have a virtual presence. They're too busy with their real presence. The other thing I take from this is that the idea of existing online and what that means only goes so far. Many small businesses probably think that putting up the web site is the end, when in fact it is just the beginning. It takes knowledge and energy to ensure that a web channel is working and that it is as important a customer service experience as any other part of the business. When I think about it, I actually don't know how these small businesses would ever possess enough knowledge or energy to run what is effectively a completely different, and for anyone who has worked with computers knows, very tempermental business. Maybe there's a business opportunity there...

One other funny note, there was one hotel that I wanted to book who didn't have any online access so I called them. They only took reservations by phone from 9 - noon. That would be 3 am for me. Luckily my friend Christophe translated the phone message for me or I'd probably still be calling. I ended up booking one I could get online.

The good news is now have my lodging taken care of for all of April and the last week and two random days in May and I plan on winging it for the rest. Even better news is that my sister Penny is going to join me for a week and it will make the trip so much more enjoyable. She's also studying French so we can charmingly butcher it together.

Eight days to go and still so much to do. How does one pack for two months anyway?

Expensive Hotels

This is not an entry about the expensive hotels that I'm going to stay in but about the expensive hotels that I want to stay in. I love nice hotels. I love them beyond what is normal. Some of my fondest memories are of night's spent in world renown, over the top, luxury hotels. I don't care that in my day to day life, my little town house is quite modest. I love it and I'm proud to call it my own. But every once in a while, I stay in a hotel that costs per night what I might pay to stay for five nights somewhere else. But for that day and that night, and until four o'clock the next day (thanks to American Express) I am the center of the universe. The hotel makes, and keeps, its reputation by thinking of new and innovative ways to make me feel wonderful. Fresh fruit in the room, exclusive skin and hair care products in the palatial bath, employees who actually take the service part of the service industry seriously. It feels so right; it feels that life should always be this beautiful, this sensual, this smooth running. For a couple days, I have people. My people have people. I no longer have to expend energy on the little things. It's so perfectly relaxing.

As I'm doing my research into where I'll lay my head each night in April and May, the hotels that promise this experience keep poking their heads up and encouraging me to read their descriptions. Who can resist reading about the hotel that lives at the top of the list, the hotel with the big star next to it, the one in red letters. When you set out to do something, you want to do it as well as you possibly can. This is also true of vacationing. I know how well I vacation in these spots. And it's only money, right? But unfortunately, while I have no issue paying for a trés cher night or two once in a while, when confronted with the proposition that I have to pay for approximately 60 nights lodging, I begin to see the reality of the situation.

First off, the euro is strong against the dollar. Actually the dollar is weak against everything else but I have to ignore that or it would drive me crazy. Second of all, hotels in France are even more expensive than here. They are more than what I would pay in New York or San Francisco. For example, I really wanted to stay at the Plaza Athénée in Paris. The really cheap rooms are about 555 euro per night. At today's exchange rate, that's about $750. Multiply that times my 60 nights and it's starting to look more like a mortgage on a modest (but charming) town house than a vacation.

And really, I wasn't looking at Plaza Athénée rooms everywhere but there are some fabulous and charming (and often historical) destinations out there. I want to try them all, however, my current plan is that I'm going to budget for two very nice stays (of two - three nights a piece) and then keep it more modest the rest of the time. I will list my contenders here, so you too, can experience the agony of saying no to these potentially peak experiences.

As a night in a gourmet restaurant sitteth on the right hand of a night sleeping in a luxury hotel, there are two experiences that are calling my name so loudly, I don't even hear the French accent.

I stumbled on this one yesterday: Michel Bras three star Michelin restaurant and accompanying hotel. Look at that architecture! For a modernist like me, it looks like what's behind Peter and the gates. And the food. I've had fine, fine meals in my life but I've never experienced whatever it takes to get the third star.

Another was recommended to me and keeps springing up, the Oustau de Baumanière. It is another of the Relais & Chateaux properties (Michel Bras (different link) is as well) and is known for it's fine cuisine.

There's a laundry list of others. I've gotten over the need to stay in the chi-chi hotels on the Riviera. I think they're more image than substance and I'm sure I can find a charming small hotel that is every bit as centrally located and comfortable. There are a few that are moderately interesting however, the Martinez and Carlton in Cannes, the Negresco in Nice and Hôtel Hermitage in Monaco.

A couple I'm still considering are in St. Paul De Vence - La Colombe d'Or and Le Hameau. The La Colombe d'Or has a special appeal as it found itself with one of the finer 20th century art collections by virtue of their policy of taking paintings as payments when the likes of Matisse, César, Calder and others stayed there. The art now hangs around the hotel as if it were the manufactured prints of most large hotel chains today. Le Hameau is recommended as a more moderate priced hotel with gorgeous views and leisurely breakfasts. My attractions to St. Paul De Vence itself, is the Fondation Maeght a beautiful piece of architecture that houses an amazing permanent collection of 20th century artists.

There are numerous other wonderful places, pointed out to me by Relais & Chateuax, Karen Brown and others. And they all cost too much money. I'm sure I will find myself charmed and content in a number of small local inns and the lure of luxury will dim but I may need to have someone else help with reservations, just to keep me real.

Oh, and don't feel too badly about the Plaza Athénée. My virtual residency at the Westin St. Francis in San Francisco over the last two years has netted me enough points to afford me six nights at the Hotel Prince De Galles.

Electronics

Not that I intend this blog to be a postcard for crass consumerism, but part of planning for big trips is about getting new gear. For this trip, it was important that I miniaturize a couple of key pieces so that I can comfortably carry them with me - my laptop and my camera. I have a great Thinkpad for work and while I regularly tote it around the world, it's big, heavy and belongs to work. Time to get my own.

After investigating a few of the subcompacts, I was torn between an IBM and a Fujitsu and there didn't seem to be a clear means of determining which one was better. First of all, I couldn't find a bricks and mortar store that carried both so I could try them out and the reviews were about equal. But as fate would have it, I saw the guy in front of me in a security line at the airport pull out the Fujitsu to put through x-ray and I got a first hand review. It was a rave and I ordered one the next day. If you're interested, it's the Fujitsu P7000D and it's pretty adorable. At three pounds and 10.5 hours of battery life I can take it with me everywhere to upload photos, write, check email, and blog away.

I also needed a new digital camera. While my Olympus 3040 has been a good camera, technology has advanced significantly in the four years since I bought it. It was now possible to get 5 megapixels in a pocket size package. After a little more online research, I ended up with a Pentax Optio X, also on recommendation. 5.1 ounces and .4 x 2.1 x 0.7 inches, it's small enough to fit in my back pocket.

A number of people have said that I should stay disconnected and inferred that taking a laptop would somehow sully the experience. I disagree. I'm going to be traveling alone, for the most part, and I like the idea of being able to stay in touch with friends and family. I also like the idea of being able to write (I can type far more quickly than write longhand), do research on the web (I plan on booking hotels online as I go), and get new tunes for my iPod. I like being digital, I like being connected. I don't intend it to take away from my experience but to enhance it. It will be interesting to see how many of the French are living the wireless lifestyle.