Not the Da Vinci Code tour – part 1

Posted by jerry on June 26th, 2006 — Posted in Journal, Travel

It began one summer evening, when celebrated semiotician, Jerry, was giving a presentation at a conference in Paris – he even had his Moleskine notebook (standard issue for all celebrated semioticians). That evening the phone went (they’ll pinch anything around here) but actually on further analysis it was only the phone signal. Must buy another recharge card, he thought. He was startled from his reverie by the phone – this time it was ringing with that insistent frog tone that marked his phone from all the other corny ring tones. It was Sharon – something about the Louvre. Jerry headed straight over there, admiring the art nouveau Metro signs at the station.

metro sign

At the Louvre it didn’t quite add up – who put that ugly glass pyramid in front of this nice building? It was Jerry’s first brush with Modernism. Must have been the Chinese-born American artist Ieoh Ming Pei. He turned, like he had a sour taste in his mouth. Another mystery. There across the river – how did they manage to turn a railway station into the Musee d’Orsay? He headed over to investigate.

Musee d'Orsay

Now that was refreshing. His eyes glistened like Monet’s water lillies and he came away with the heady feeling like the world was flowing out of perspective, like Van Gogh’s bedroom – the air conditioning wasn’t working and he decided he was in need of Evian water.

Louvre museum from the rear

Later, in the parking lot behind the Louvre there was a sign – two signs, connected by some emergency tape. Some random youths were circling on in-line skates. Suddenly one broke free and raced for the tape (this could get ugly) and at the last moment he sprang up over the tape and landed skillfully on his skates. Another, this time on a push bike pedalled furiously while riding on the back wheel – then he lunged forward and coasted for several metres – on the front wheel. The semiotician analysed – what did this mean? And then he had it. “must be French” he muttered – they’re the only ones that skillful. Perhaps they were Templars. No, he decided, they were clearly Hospitallers. It was time to go to the Church of Saint Sulpice.

Church of Saint Sulpice, Paris

He found it further up behind the Louvre, on the road towards MontMartre. Not bad as churches go, he thought, but what caught his eye was the antiques market in front of the church – forget the gnomon – and he went to investigate. His gaze was attracted by some white porcelain – perhaps this was an Arzberg teapot? He was, after all, on a quest – and quests give meaning to one’s shopping. Sorely tempted by the antique model steam engine he tried to do a quick calculation of what one hundred and eighty euros was worth in Aussie dollars. He carefully replaced the steam engine – it would keep another day. He admired the traditional market games laid out in front of the church, and smiled.

Saint Sulpice market, Paris

It wasn’t too far to discover Paris’ true holy relic – Cugnot’s steam carriage, tucked away in the Musee des Arts et Metiers just past the national archive.

Having seen Leonardo’s Mona Lisa some ten years ago, along with the Virgin on the Rocks  (sounds like a Richard Branson cocktail drink) he decided it was time to compare the latter with Leonardo’s later version, which hangs in London’s National Gallery. Paris is a place to look up – above the shops are delightful balconies bursting with window boxes of colour. Parisiennes love their flower boxes. And if you don’t see the window boxes, there are always the wonderful baroque architectural details that add visual texture to the streetscape.
To be continued…


Cugnot’s steam tractor – Fardier a Vapeur

Posted by jerry on June 25th, 2006 — Posted in History, Journal, Steam, Technology

One of the little-known museum gems in Paris is the Musee des Arts et Metiers – the museum of technology. Among the amazing objects there is Nicolas Cugnot’s steam tractor – the Fardier a vapeur. This is the first steam propelled vehicle – from which the development of the modern automobile began.

Back in 1769, when Captain Cook was preparing for his voyage to Australia, a French military engineer was considering the merits of using steam to propel a vehicle. With the backing of the Minister for War, the Duke of Choiseul, Nicolas Joseph Cugnot (1725-1804) developed a prototype steam tractor for towing artillery without horses. The prototype was built under Cugnot’s direction by Army mechanic Brezin at the Paris Arsenal. The first protoype showed some limited promise, and he went on to build a second vehicle in 1770. His idea was to use a three-wheeled cart, with a high-pressure boiler placed in front of the driving wheel, and a two-cylinder piston engine to push on a notched disc each side of the wheel. The whole driving assembly was mounted so it could pivot on a vertical axis for steering – with a steering lock of about 15-20 degrees in either direction. It seems very front-heavy, but it was designed to tow a heavy artillery piece.

The machine has a reverse gear and could move its five-tonne load at up to 4 km/h. It was only partially successful, however. The fire-box was small, and the machine could sustain steam for only about 15 minutes before it ran out of steam pressure. And the lack of brakes and and slow steering (by geared rack and pinion) made the machine unwieldy. On an early test run it failed to make a sufficiently sharp turn and crashed into a stone wall, and the project was scrapped – after the first motor vehicle accident in history – in 1771.

The test vehicle was long thought to have been destroyed during the French Revolution, until it was discovered in Napoleon’s time. It has been preserved in the Musee des Arts et Metiers since 1800.

I am happy to report that the machine is still in an excellent state of preservation, and the workmanship of the mechanic, Brezin, was very professional in its approach. The two single-acting cylinders are 13 inches in diameter, and the structure is robustly constructed on massive timber beams. Cugnot himself received a pension of 600 francs, which was revoked in 1789, forcing Cugnot into exile in Brussels. He was brought back to France and his pension reinstated by Napoleon shortly before he died in 1804 at the age of 79 years.

The museum website has an excellent video presentation on how the engine worked

The vehicle’s scale is impressive as you can see in the following photos I took 2 weeks ago.

Cugnot's steam carriage
Cugnot’s steam carriage – the Fardier a Vapeur 1770

Cugnot's boiler assembly
Cugnot’s boiler assembly

Cugnot's steam tractor
Cugnot’s steam wagon – left view

Cugnot's drive gear
Drive gear on Cugnot’s steam carriage

Cugnot's engine valve gear - detail
Cugnot’s engine valve gear – detail

Cugnot's drive train
Cugnot’s drive train

Cugnot's 1770 Fardier a Vapeur
This picture is included just to provide a sense of scale to Cugnot’s steam wagon


Holy Grail found – in Berlin

Posted by jerry on June 24th, 2006 — Posted in Journal

Everyone has to have a quest – it gives meaning to one’s shopping. It all began ten years ago. It was a Thursday – and what had started as a normal day took an abrupt downward turn when I dropped the lid of my teapot, and it broke into several pieces. The teapot was not expensive, but it was a classic Bauhaus-inspired style: Arzberg Form 1382, designed by Dr Hermann Gretsch in 1931.
I tried the Australian shops – no, they vaguely recalled seeing one once. A couple of trips to the UK yielded a withering look, an arched eybrow, and a slight sniff as I was told “That would be a German make – we don’t stock those”.

In Europe I asked a few places – in Copenhagen I was given blank looks. In France, more blank looks – perhaps my schoolboy French wasn’t up to it. Finally, I wound up in a conference in Berlin this week. I pondered – perhaps there might be a slim chance?

I took a chance during a lunch break and headed out down Friedrichstrasse, and down on the corner of Alexanderplatz, I found a porcelain shop. Alas it was the royal German manufacturer’s outlet. Then a glimmer of a sign: “Arzberg is the name of a town”, the assistant said helpfully, “Are you sure that you have the manufactuer’s name or is that a type?” I assured him it was indeed the manufacturer’s name. He shook his head sadly, he had never heard of this brand. I mentioned that it was a Bauhaus design – by Dr hermann Gretsch. His face lit a little, “Yes I know of the designer Gretsch”. His tone softened towards me. “Perhaps you could try a place across town, a department store that has many kinds of porcelain, called KaDeWe – it is quite famous you know.” I didn’t. But I had a map, and got him to point out the location. Then it was time to head back to the conference. But I had a clue – the trail had warmed slightly.

The following lunchtime I took a taxi to KaDeWe and set off to find a floor with porzellan. I made my way to the fifth floor, past the ladies fashions, the mens fashions, the ladies underwear, the manchester – perhaps this would be like so many other department stores – all clothes and no porcelain. But I kept going ever upwards on the escalators, and quite abruptly, there was the porcelain section. Royal Doulton, the German KPM (Royal German porcelain manufacturer) Wedgwood were all in evidence – everything but… I sighed. I was approaching the end of the porcelain department.

I looked around and spotted an alcove, and there emblazened in discrete signage was the familiar Arzberg inside a plain oval ring. Below the sign were some unfamiliar designs. Perhaps it isn’t made anymore in that style? – Finally I saw a shelf unit emblazoned with ‘Form 1382’ – a whole cabinet with the familiar Bauhaus design, and there on the top shelf was a very familiar teapot.

The loud ‘whooppeeeee’ that escaped my lips startled some nearby shoppers – one doesn’t normally make that kind of sound in THAT kind of store. Yes, I bought the teapot – and its smaller sibling.

Arzberg teapot style 1382

So you see, the holy grail is not a cup after all, nor a genealogy – as a certain movie would have us believe. It is in fact, a teapot. Eine teekanne. And it is real.

This year marks the 75th anniversary of the design. From his development of Form 1382, Dr Gretsch was awarded the gold medal at the 6th Triennal in Milan in 1936 and another gold medal at the World Exhibition in Paris in 1937.

Gretsch was born in Augsberg, Germany in 1895 (died 1950), and studied architecture in Stuttgard, but sat his final exam as a ceramicist at the Arts and Crafts school in Stuttgart. In 1930, he became a Government architect and the following year became artistic consultant at the Arzberg porcelain factory, and later chairman of the regional trade museum, as well as acting director of the regional trade school. In 1945 he returned to his original profession as an architect.

The Form 1382 series is also on display at the London Design Museum. Arzberg Porcelain Factory also has a website.


They don’t make them

Posted by jerry on June 2nd, 2006 — Posted in Journal

How many times have you had that response from  shop assistant when you go back to a shop to buy a replacement for something you bought there just six months ago: “They don’t make them”. We’ve never stocked those” “It sounds like a good idea though…”

The other day I went to buy a binder – you know, the ones with two flat metal strips and a slidey thing to keep it closed. I went into a shop where I know I’ve bought them before. “No, they don’t make them”. “We have binders with a clip” – I laughed, because that was the fourth time this year I’ve had that response.

Travel technology – do they stock a CD burner for travellers – where you just push in the camera card and you can burn CDs – no computer needed? “No they don’t make them – sounds like a good idea though.” I eventually bought the Apacer 200 in London – last one on the shelves.

I’d like a book light please… “a what?” You know, clips on the book and shines a light on the page – so you don’t disturb someone trying to sleep. “Sounds like a good idea” the assistant said doubtfully “but I don’t think anyone makes them”. I tracked one down in the fifth bookshop for Aus$14.95 “They don’t make them” I said as I handed over the cash.

It’s time I upgraded my camera – do you have one that takes Compact Flash cards? “They have a flash built in” No I mean a flash card  – for storage “They don’t make them. They’ve never made them.” This time I came prepared: Here’s the camera they’ve never made – it’s called a canon “Fancy that!” Yes I said as walked out of the shop. I bought it here six months ago.

But it’s the simple things – like storage boxes – ever tried to match one with one you bought six months ago? Or long lighters for gas stoves. One response from a supermarket “They don’t make them” I bought one here four weeks ago – which aisle will I find it on? “We’ve never stocked those” It was in aisle four – and they do stock them still.

Maybe it’s some form of new-management retail unhelpfulness training? It’s okay I’ll find one eventually.


Flying lesson

Posted by jerry on May 20th, 2006 — Posted in Journal, Travel

Well, it ws a calm day, partly cloudy and time for a flying lesson – something I have wanted to do since I was a kid 🙂 So it was with a tinge of excitement and anticipation that I drove into the airport and parked next to the transportable office with the glass door marked “Brindabella Airlines“. I was quickly introduced to my pilot and he calmly explained the control surfaces and the the three directions of movement provided by the controls. He explained that I would have some good hands-on time when the aircraft would be fully in my control. It all sounded reassuringly straightforward.

light aircraft

The plane is tiny – the size of a small car with wings – and it was reassuringly basic. We started off with a thorough pre-flight inspection – make sure none of the rivets have come loose, or that any of the wire split-pins had come adrift, and that all the control surfaces worked easily, and to check all the leading edges (including the propellor) for any dents or nicks. Then check the undercarriage and the brakes. And then the all important stuff – fuel. This thing runs on 100 octane avgas and it was important to ensure there was plenty of the stuff in the wing tanks, and to check the relief valves and make sure there was no water or grit in the fuel.

The plane is a Cessna 150 which weighs just over 500kg (just twice the weight of my motorbike and lighter than my car) and has a top speed of 202kph (slower by a fair margin than the top speed of the motorbike!) and seats two – a generous assessment.

  • Dimensions
    • Span : 9.97m (32’9ft)
    • Length : 7.34m (24’1ft)
    • Height : 2.59m (8’6ft)
  • Weight
    • empty : 501kg (1,100lb)
    • max : 757kg (1,670lb)
  • Power Plant : 110hp Avco-Lycoming )-235-N2C
  • Performance :
  • max speed : 202kmh (125mph)
  • ceiling : 14,700ft (4480m)
  • range : 1,158km (719m)

The engine – a 110HP horizontally opposed four cylinder air cooled Lycoming motor uses only about 27 litres an hour, so with more than 70 litres of fuel on board we had plenty for my half-hour flight.

The pilot took care of the radio stuff and went through the checklist, and started the ngine, setting the throttle to a bit above idle and got me to feel the brakes and the foot controls. Then with the instruction to taxi following the yellow line he handed over to me. First impression – it feels really counter intuitive to press a right pedal to turn right. So with a real conscious effort I managed to mostly follow the yellow line, and was slightly relieved to find that we would be turning with the ailerons, rather than the rudder. Perhaps it is a car thing – you know, turn right by pushing on the steering wheel with your left hand and pulling with the right – it somehow just felt wrong…

cockpit of light aircraft

Anyhow from there things got much better very quickly. After waiting for a passenger jet to take off and a Dash-Eight to land, it was our turn to line up on the runway. After clearance from the tower, my pilot took over and opened up the throttle and launched us down the runway.

Once in the air and up to about one thousand feet the pilot handed over and asked me to turn left – just use the ailerons to roll a little (just like a motorcycle) and keep the nose up … “that’s it, now bring it back level – good, so I can relax and go to sleep now?” he said. “Well, maybe in a while” I said – I could feel some mild turbulence, and it took a little while to get used to the feel of the controls – how much movement of the controls produces how much movement of the aircraft. Surprisingly, it didn’t take very long at all before compensating for the small air bumps became fairly straightforward, if not entirely automatic. Soon we turned again and flew over the racecourse, then on to Black Mountain tower – by now we were about three thousand feet. Steering just left of the Tower, we passed over the lake and over Parliament House then another small turn to head towards Woden.

We turned again at Mount Mugga and headed back towards the airport. The airport radioed to let us know there was a Dash Eight making an approach and we could slot in behind for our landing. It didn’t take long to spot the other plane off in the distance at right angles to our path, and we kept going straight in a ‘square pattern’ until the Dash Eight had made its approach, then I turned the plane to line up with the runway as we began our descent. It soon became apparent that the wind was not as calm at our altitude and a 25 kph wind kept making us drift offline. Once I had manoevred us back on track I handed back to the pilot for the landing – and I was glad I did as the approach had a bit of turbulence. But as we levelled out over the runway on our approach the air became smooth again and all too soon we were back on the ground, as I made a rather better fist of taxiing than when we started.

light aircraft - pilot side

I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as we walked back to to the office and I inquired about what I would need to do to qualify for a basic licence. It actually started to sound quite reasonably priced – and I am very tempted to at least do a follow-up flight very soon 🙂

The folks at Brindabella Airlines are very professional in their approach, and very conscious of safety – I shall certainly fly with them again:-) Thank you Eve – that was a wonderful present!