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As mentioned in my Thursday entry, yesterday was the day for my electroretinography (ERG) test at the General. It went smoothly but was all a bit surreal. At the entrance to the building, I donned my mask and got into a physically distanced line-up with two or three people ahead of me. Then I had to answer a list of questions to assure them I had no covidian symptoms and had not been outside the country in the past two weeks. Then I was directed to the elevators - maximum 4 people in each, and those are big elevators too, meant to accommodate stretchers and hospital beds. When I reached the Eye Institute on the 3rd floor, I was "processed" again, answering the same list of questions before depositing my health card in a sterile tray for the receptionist to take down my particulars. Then I was directed to a waiting room where half the seats were blocked off with yellow tape.

When my name was called, I was directed to a room with various optical machines of one kind and another, and given a series of different types of eye drops. After some basic measurements and tests where I mostly just had to stare at a light and avoid blinking, she brought me to another room where the ERG machine was (apparently the only one in Ottawa). Then she scraped me a bit (it felt like sandpaper) where all the contact points were and I was wired up with little stick-on things - on my forearm, behind my ears and on my eyelashes.

By that point, the pupils of my eyes were sufficiently dilated that she could proceed with the test, which involved staring at an X in the middle of a honeycomb-type pattern for 60 seconds at a time while she made a bunch of flashing lights go off. I think she did perhaps ten of these mini-sessions and she was very good about letting me know when there were 30 seconds left, or 15 or whatever. I can't say it really hurt, although it brought to mind some of the torture tests you see in the movies for getting secrets out of people: "We have ways of making you talk..."

Having arrived early for my 8:30 AM appointment, it went well, everyone was friendly but efficient and I was down in the lobby again shortly after 9 AM. But I must admit I didn't realize until yesterday evening and still today, that it had still taken its toll - I'm feeling quite sluggish and run-down.

As I looked through my e-mails, it struck me how creative folks are being in the whole re-opening process. Today, for example, I got a message about before- and after-hours shopping slots you can reserve at Indigo; also one about the various city museums that are now open a few days a week.

There was no Victorian Tea in the Arboretum this summer but the Billings Estate has a COVID-19 version of tea on the lawn, take-out picnic style. It's something we may consider.

Although I've been back since last Monday, I still haven't fully acclimatized to the 6-hour time difference between here and France. But beyond that, there were very few real down-sides to my week-long trip that was part business, part pleasure. France, somewhat to my surprise, welcomed me with open arms!

The reason for going to France this year was to attend the annual meeting of the International Federation of Library Associations (IFLA), held this year in Lyon (next year it will be in Capetown, South Africa; I don't plan to go). After my experience being scrunched up on an Air Transat flight from Toronto to Glasgow a couple of years ago, I decided with this Air Canada flight (Montreal to Paris) to treat myself to something called "Premium Economy" class. You're still in an economy class cabin, but near the front. You get priority boarding along with the Business Class folks, more leg room and space generally, 2 free checked bags (though I managed with just one carry-on), free newspapers, a slightly nicer meal (including free wine), and a little takeaway care package including earphones, toothbrush and toothpaste and a couple of other goodies I can't recall). The trip back home was even nicer. I had checked in from my hotel room and although they preassigned me a seat for the very short Montreal to Ottawa leg of my trip, they indicated that my seat for Paris to Montreal would be assigned at the gate. When I arrived, they said I would be paged before boarding to get my seat assignment, but that never happened. So when priority boarding time rolled around, I presented my boarding pass at the gate, the nice flight attendant took it to her desk, returning seconds later with a new one, complete with seat assignment - in Business Class.

It was quite the experience. Tons of room. Sparkling wine prior to takeoff and plenty of food and drink throughout the flight. An upgraded care package including a very nice pair of socks. Very attentive service. I could get used to this!

But back to when I arrived in France, on the morning of August 19. I was amazed at how easy it was to get into the country. When I've visited the U.K. or the U.S., the border guards usually ask the purpose of my visit, how long I plan to stay, whether I packed my own luggage, whether I'm bringing certain things into the country ... well, you get the idea. All of which can make for long lineups and long waits. But with France, there was none of that. The "border police" took a cursory look at my passport photo, a cursory look at me, then stamped my passport and I was on my way. To the airport's train station where I was able to get a train directly to Lyon's Part Dieu railway station. Unfortunately, I had not pre-booked a ticket so the economy or second-class was full. So I splurged on a first-class ticket for the two-hour journey to Lyon.

That's actually one area where I think Via Rail Canada in many ways has the edge over French trains. Admittedly, the French train was modern and spacious and had a nice smooth ride. But they don't have service to your seat, they don't give you a free meal even in first class, and... well, I guess it was just different. I did the return journey from Lyon to central Paris via regular coach class and concluded it's not really worthwhile getting a first-class ticket if you have the choice.

On arrival in Lyon, I didn't have to go far before seeing huge posters welcoming IFLA delegates to Lyon in all five official conference languages and informing us of exactly which buses would take us directly to the convention centre. Without luggage it probably would have been quite walkable, but since we got free transit passes as part of our conference package, and since I was still very jet-lagged from having been awake all night, the short bus trip and chance to see Lyon at street-level was welcome. Our conference materials were packaged in classy navy-blue laptop bags - something I can definitely reuse, unlike a lot of the bags I've brought home from similar conferences.

It was around 2 PM by this time. I was glad to be staying at Residence Temporim, a kind of self-contained apartment-with-maid-service, just steps away from where the conference sessions were being held. Only problem was that there weren't too many places nearby stocking basic groceries to bring up to my home-away-from-home. Plenty of restaurants but nothing like a corner-store or supermarket. But I did manage to take out some supplies from a coffee-shop/deli type of place in the vicinity.

That first day, I managed just one session, from 4:00 to 6:00, on library services to LGBT (etc.) populations called "Addressing the Silence", a panel with a variety of interesting speakers from diverse countries with diverse cultures and degrees of diversity-friendliness - Sweden, Hungary, Bible-belt USA, Brazil, U.K., Canada... Some important issues came up and I wish I'd been a little more awake and alert for it! Afterwards, I went back to my digs, had a light supper and slept for over 11 gloriously unbroken hours!

What with attending conference sessions on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I didn't really see as much of Lyon as I would have liked. We were, for example, practically on the doorstep of the huge, beautiful and tranquil Tete d'Or Park and I could easily have spent a day just exploring that! I did get to see a very interesting exhibit of Treasures from the Lyon Public Library.

Friday was the day we got to do full-day tours of out-of-town libraries and I had opted for the Bibliotheque national de la France (two of its larger branches), in Paris. I had also decided to extend my stay there and spend the entire weekend in Paris before flying home on Monday.

Ah, Paris! My hotel was on rue Jacob in the 6e arrondissement, the St-Germain des Pres area, where you can't walk two steps without stumbling upon history and the spirits of famous people who have called Paris home. Hemingway. Gertrude Stein. Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. Richard Wagner. I was steps away from the Cafe aux Deux Magots and the Cafe Flore. When I got up to my room, via the minuscule elevator, there was a 375 ml (or 37.5 cl, come disent les Francais) bottle of Mouton Cadet awaiting me, with a note from the hotel management urging me to enjoy my stay. On my final day there, they left me a plate of macarons, those wonderful sandwich biscuits that are native to the area.

Since my time there was fairly limited, I generally avoided very touristy places like the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre (though we did walk through the grounds and gardens en route to the Richelieu site of the national library) which can be a bit overwhelming. On the Saturday, I made use of my 3-day Metro pass to visit Pere Lachaise Cemetery, while Sunday was devoted to exploring on foot the area around my hotel. This included visits to the Eugene Delacroix Museum which has a wonderful garden and at the moment a special exhibit called "Eugene Delacroix, le plus legitime des fils de Shakespeare", and the Museum of Letters and Manuscripts, celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. In addition to letters of famous figures in French literature, this museum also included: a letter from John Lennon to someone called Christine, an impassioned plea to end world hunger; and a storyboard for the Orson Welles film The Trial (based on Kafka's famous novel) which, coincidentally, I had just recently watched on the Turner Classic Movies channel.

There were some surprises. The first related to language: the number of people who spoke English and the number of signs in English, as well as the country's hospitable-ness to people speaking other languages: for instance, you could buy a Metro-Pass or withdraw money from a machine in any of five or six different languages at the touch of a button. After being used to Quebec with its language laws that was a welcome surprise. The second related to the hours kept by French shops and other businesses. I suppose I had thought Paris was too far north to be in a siesta-oriented locale but in fact, many places did close between about 1 and 3 or 4 PM and then remain open till at least 7 PM. Moreover, if I had the choice, I would not visit France in August again, simply because that's when the French take THEIR holidays. Of course, the touristy places were open, but the smaller (and often more distinctive and interesting-looking) places were often closed for the entire month, or at least the middle two weeks of August. The notable exception was the Bibliotheque national, which apparently has its BUSIEST time in August, as many French folk apparently consider the library an ideal place to spend their vacation!

The third surprise related to rituals associated with food and drink. Of course, I had to experience sidewalk cafe culture. But at most of these establishments, the chairs (two or three rows of them) were turned OUTWARDS towards the sidewalk, the clear message being that you're not looking at your dining companion, you're looking at the people walking past! Smoking is still very much in evidence there too, at least at the outdoor tables. And the coffee itself? Well, if you order a coffee in France, you shouldn't automatically assume you'll be brought milk or cream with it. You'll get plenty of sugar and often a biscuit too, but in terms of coffee, you'll probably get a tiny cup of espresso and your cup will not automatically be refilled, either. To my surprise as well, a "cafe au lait" request does not typically yield one of those large white bols like you get here but merely coffee with milk on the side. I learned to request "cafe creme" to get it to my taste.
Seated out on the patio enjoying "le brunch" at Cafe Bonaparte on Sunday, I watched the flaneurs of Paris flane by - the man on his bike flogging Sunday papers, the organ-grinder with a little dog instead of a monkey... it was wonderful!

Still on the theme of food and drink, you shouldn't assume when they bring bread to your table that they will also bring butter. Or, for that matter, margarine or oil or any of the other things they might serve here. Now, one thing I DID discover while browsing the Marche St-Germain on Sunday was "pineau", a mixture of cognac and red grape juice. Quite tasty!

I wonder when (or if) I'll have an excuse to go back?

So apparently "Sex: A Tell-all Exhibition" is a little too racy for Ottawa audiences. It's already travelled to Montreal and Regina, where it barely evoked a murmur of protest but here in Ottawa, the minimum age for attending it solo was raised from 12 to 16 - this before the exhibition even opened! Heritage Minister James Moore considers it an insult to taxpayers that our money is being used in this way (though he later very carefully said he respected the independence of the museum) - heaven forbid that our young people should be better informed and maybe even get the impression that ordinary people are engaging in sexual acts! But then, it's pretty much what I've come to expect from him. He objected to the Sixties exhibit at the art gallery a couple of years ago and has yet to respond to the letter sent back in February by the president of Ex Libris (a group of retired librarians) protesting the recent drastic cuts to the Library and Archives Canada and other government libraries. I think the only kind of culture he understands is the variety you get in a pot of yogurt. Or maybe real men don't eat yogurt.

I do recall many, many years ago, when the mosaic of a moose (definitely a bull-moose) on the floor of the Museum of Nature (then known, ironically enough, as the Museum of Man, and encompassing the exhibits now housed in the Museum of Civilization in Gatineau), was covered over with a large carpet, because it was deemed just a wee bit too educational for all those school groups that regularly took field trips to the museum. But that was a couple of generations ago. I find it disturbing to see that mentality persisting to this day. Most evidence seems to suggest that the better informed our young people are, the less likely they are to suffer from unwarranted guilt, loneliness and despair, or to find themselves surprised by an unanticipated pregnancy or sexually transmitted disease.

Are there legitimate objections to this exhibition? To be honest, I don't know. I haven't yet seen it myself, and can only go on the basis of second- and third-hand anecdotal evidence. I do find it interesting that a few parents who've commented in the media actually said they were all set to petition against it until they went and saw it for themselves - whereupon they promptly changed their minds! I suppose some adults who were there to explore the exhibition might find it off-putting to find prepubescent young people making sarcastic comments and giggling or snickering over particular exhibits, or taunting those who seemed to be genuinely interested. Teachers, clergy and people who were just plain shy, I suppose, might hesitate to go to the exhibition because, well, what if their neighbours saw them? What if they were reported to their bosses as being dirty old men and women? If that were to become a problem, though, surely there are some measures that could be taken. For example, they could perhaps have specific hours when it was to be viewed only by school groups or only by adults.

In today's Citizen, long-time columnist Dave Brown lamented the modern-day tendency to separate sex and love. It's an age-old argument, of course, and one which I believe has some merit. But does the exhibition do this? The abovementioned parents who changed their minds seemed to do so partly on the basis that it seemed to present all sides of the issues and inform young people that they have options (amongst others, presumably, that the right to say yes does not preclude the right to say no). Mind you, this is the Museum of Science and Technology that is hosting the exhibit - so isn't it only to be expected that it would be the scientific and medical aspects of sex that would be the focus, rather than the emotional, commercial, spiritual, or artistic ones?

It will be interesting to see what unfolds as more people view the exhibition - as they no doubt will in droves now that it has given birth to so much controversy! I plan to be among those going to see it, and may devote a future blog to my first-hand impressions.