aqua-velva

Having just returned from a fantastic, educational and relaxing vacation in the Aquitaine and Medoc regions of southern France's Atlantic Coast, I wanted to take the opportunity to round-up a few photographs that did not make the travel blog and a few pensées (after Blaise Pascal's random collected thoughts and enigmas, like, the parrot wipes his beak even though it is clean). 

The area was just incredible--the port of La Rochelle along with this other hidden cove of Meschers-sur-Gironde with troglodyte dwellings pounded by the surf into the cliff was like a pirate theme-park. The caves there actually saw some piratery and were once host to French protestants who had to practice their religion in secret.

A sort of regional mascot too was a donkey in pajama bottoms, and later I learned that these pants were worn to protect them from mosquitos while working in the salt-flats that brought these cities great prominience.

The city of Bordeaux has a crest that resembles a bio-hazard or toxic-spill clean-up symbol, though I am sure there is no relation.  The coast was also dotted with these colossal and exemplary (really just like the perfect dreamscape of what one would imagine a fort or a castle to be with winding causeways, endless stairs, turrets, towers, loopholes and murder-holes) bastions from the handiwork of the Marquis de Vauban to protect trade and the rich harbours from foreign navies, but there was one inland garrison town that fell victim to the environment that created this wealth.

The mud-flats that are part of the oyster culture and the salt-flats which gave Aquitaine a monopoly are nourished by sediment washing in from the mouth of the Gironde colliding with the silt of the ocean.  Eventually, and probably rather sooner than anyone expected, the sediment choked this fortress off from the port by a good ten kilometers. 

Not useful for fending off invading ships, the town--which was also the birthplace of promogenitor Canadien Samuel de Champlain, the fort and billeting has been well-preserved.  There was a lot of neat stuff going on here and I have a lot of homework to do.

nam alii oc, alii si, alii vero disunt oil

"Everyone has two countries, his or her own--and France," someone once said. PfRC is going on holiday to the Aquitaine, the pays d'òc. Traditionally, this area was one of the areas where Occitan (Provençal) was spoken. The Latin phrase in the title and language itself is from Dante's observation that for yes "some say òc (from Latin hoc--this), some say sì (from sicut--thus), and others oïl (from hoc illud--this is it)." Please stay-tuned to our little travel blog for regular updates and more adventures.

foundry sans informal

Though I hope I am not too much of a font snob or look down my nose too much at Comic Sans, but I do appreciate the attention to detail, aesthetic balance that goes into type-setting. Scribble (via Neatorama) has a nifty flow-chart and other guides to facilitate choosing the appropriate font. Personally, within the quiver of standard type-faces, Gill Sans is quite presentable. It's similar to the lettering the British Broadcasting Company uses and to the style of German traffic signage, DIN (Deutsches Institut für Normung) 1451.

flea, fly, flea-fly-mosquito

Though I generally am little disappointed by the effort, I usually do read through the comments section after a news article. Beyond destructive criticism and roundly sharing blame and deeply personal affronts, there are sometimes interesting takes and tangents on the news.  And sometimes there is the serendipitously non sequitur, like dadaist graffiti.  After an article about the economic situation in America, there was a comment, ignored but weirdly trenchant--FACT: Bears eat beets. Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.  I thought that was priceless, and a lot more arresting than normal angry opinions-to-power.  FACT: Cats fly cranes. Cats. Cranes. Cook County Sheriff.