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Entries from July 2009

07
28
2009

</IE> or hoping for the Internet Explorer plague to go away

A long time ago, a talented hacker named Bill Gates decided to take control of home computers worldwide and he launched a massive virus called Windows. Bundled with the virus came a web browser labeled Internet Explorer. The browser was very similar to its Windows host in that it was buggy, crippled, imperfect and vulnerable - but therein resided its strength: early release allowed Microsoft to inundate the market with a less-than-perfect product at a rock-bottom price with the promise of updates and improvements that, it turns out, never came. But in those days, IE had an almost-total monopoly and was considered better than nothing.

Sure, there were updates. But they never fixed anything. The browser remained bugged and more importantly, its many subsequent versions never became standard compliant. You see, there are a bunch of very smart and Microsoft-proof people out there who set the standards for web programming languages and protocols. They are the ones who shape up the internet as we know it, by adopting new guidelines and progressively enhancing old ones. They don’t decide of anything, but they are the authority on the subject. When designing a web browser, one would be smart to follow their lead and comply with widely accepted standards. Gates never has.

As a result, even in its current 8th version, Internet Explorer still plain and simply sucks. It remains the least standard-compliant browser out there ff-ieand is every web designer’s nightmare. It forces one to double-code and invent workarounds for many features and visual design aspects that work well with most browsers but still fail on IE.

And so if you are reading this from the lazy comfort of your good old Internet Explorer version.x, I have bad news for you: you are not getting the full effect of this web page, and neither will you on a growing number of other web sites. Many designers, me among them, are stopping once and for all the impossible quest for IE-compatibility and creating web sites that are specifically optimized for better-complying browsers, Firefox obviously being the leading contestant. Much of this has to do with simple eye-candy and won’t necessarily affect the core functions of a page. But in an age where web programming languages have evolved to the point of allowing full application-like interfaces, incredible user interaction and fluid animation, eye-candy is really one of the hottest feature out there.

As a small example, consider this very blog. Every main browser out there, be it Firefox, Chrome or Safari, will render its various boxes and frames with rounded corners, and will apply elegant drop-shadows to picture thumbnails, quotes and comments. In IE however, you’ll see none of the above. All corners (apart from those rendered at the template level with images) are square and drop-shadows invisible. Does that affect your reading of the blog? Probably not. But you are missing something, not seeing the page as I intended it; and somewhere along the line, at an artistic level, a absent drop-shadow becomes as important as period gone missing at the end of a sentence.

So what are your options? a) Stick with Internet Explorer and become a dinosaur, accept or ignore the headache you are causing me and many designers, and slowly fall behind everything so Piecool the web has to offer. b) Get yourself a new browser. It will take minimal getting used to, and then you will be all set. These browsers are free and none of them is force-integrated with an operating system the way IE is.

My recommendation? Get Firefox. I’ve seriously tested Chrome, Safari, Opera, Firefox and IE in their latest versions and Firefox remains my absolute favourite in terms of overall performance, speed, ease of use, security and customization options. The ex aequo second-best would be Chrome and Safari, in terms of standard-compliance. However, Chrome seems to be the new fast-rising kid on the block with the recent announcement by Google of an upcoming open source Chrome OS, a lightweight and mostly web-based operating system initially targeting the laptop market. I can already hear Bill’s teeth grinding...

The pie chart above right represents visitor browser distribution on my site for the last 30 days, as per Google Analytics. As you can see, Firefox is going strong. Of course this isn’t necessarily representative of the internet as a whole because of demographics and subject-specific browsing trends. But it shows the 3 major contenders these days. I believe that a global survey would reveal Firefox slightly ahead of IE, both of them in turn largely ahead of the competition.

Any way. Switch. Jump. Take the plunge. Ditch Internet Explorer. You won’t regret it and I sure will breathe easier next time I add a feature in here!

 

 Posted at 11:22 AM in Ticks and tricks: & Web site news: 5 Comments » Toggle display • Reply
07
27
2009

Stormy Brooklyn rooftops

One area in which the East Coast buries the Pacific Northwest is storms. I’ve seen more interesting clouds in my 2 weeks here than I had in months of Vancouver’s rather laid back weather. Living right below the rooftop might imply searing heat at times but it sure guarantees easy access to the best views. I haven’t even explored the actual roof yet, these were all taken from the terrace, at various stages of the storm - and of our lovely evening.

Finding strong similarities with Marie’s post? Well, these were after all - and for the first time in many moons - the same clouds photographed from the same vantage point. Hallelujah!



« Beautiful clouds with very temperamental weather, whirling in and out, with lashings of heavy rain, splashes of lightning, boiling thunder and then bursts of ragged sunlight... »

Marie - 66 Square feet

 

 Posted at 1:24 PM in New York: 1 Comment » Toggle display • Reply
07
26
2009

First we take Manhattan, then we take Brooklyn

I’ve adjusted the run to avoid going down to Battery Park and then backtracking up the East River shore and I now initially cut across Manhattan straight off the Brooklyn Bridge via the little City Hall park, head towards Ground Zero, over the West Side Highway and reach the Hudson River where things get better.

For a while, as I run south along the fancy waterfront, I could almost be in Vancouver, somewhere on False Creek. Glass towers to the left, yachts to the right, joggers everywhere, a few cafe terraces, the afternoon sun, a sea breeze. Here, the view carries far away over the Hudson, past the Statue of Liberty and into New Jersey.

I then approach Battery Park from the north, round what I have nicknamed Cape Manhattan and join my previous route back up to the Bridge. This works much better for me as I don’t do very well on back-and-forth runs. And either by coincidence or clever planning, I end up with a 10.5K run which is exactly what I am used to running.

Next, I’ll look into local Brooklyn solutions for interval runs and also a longer route to Prospect Park. Thanks to the Forerunner, things are looking up. And the heat won’t last forever. Soon, I’ll have to deal with Montreal frost bites.

But, for now, the highlight of running is the return home...

 

 Posted at 6:10 PM in New York: & Running: 4 Comments » Toggle display • Reply
07
22
2009

What it's all about

Being able to enjoy this moment without the dreadful knowledge that a plane ride is about to dilute it with 5000 km of loneliness. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi to a comfortable routine, when that routine is made of organic love and called home. It’s soft, and it’s warm and it’s cozy and slow and languorous and plush. It’s ours.

 

 Posted at 9:46 AM in Always: 6 Comments » Toggle display • Reply
07
21
2009

Running New York: First Blood

I have long known - and dreaded - the unavoidable fact that after three-and-a-half years of running along Vancouver’s Seawall, Montreal and the Big Apple would pose some serious challenges to my exercising routine. If there is such a thing as a runner’s high, I knew I was headed for my runner’s low.

With a difficult month-long campaign in mind, I’ve began to investigate New York as a running ground, looking for exclusive pedestrian paths, parks and other ideal areas. An initial search confirmed what I had feared; Vancouver, Stanley Park and the Seawall could never be matched. Starting a run in Brooklyn was going to force me to run in the street, something I haven’t done in almost four years. And it was going to make me aim, via various routes, towards either Prospect Park or Manhattan’s waterfront.

Brooklyn Bridge run

Google Maps and especially the Gmaps Pedometer are fantastic tools for calculating distance and establishing routes, but they only serve for approximate planning or retrospective analysis. With so much to explore, so many experiments to be run - pardon the pun - and so many variables involved, the prospect of my runs became a little dark. I don’t use running as an exploration game where diversity and surprises take the lead. I need to have a few well designed routes and stick to them until they become hypnotically rhythmic and I know exactly where to pace and where to push. The view is there as a reward, not a distraction.

So I indulged in a new toy, giving myself a few weeks to get acquainted with its multiple functions. I bought a refurbished Garmin Forerunner 305. The little beauty is barely larger than a watch on my wrist and arrives with a chest-worn heart rate monitor sensor, which will come in handy because I want to start High Intensity Interval Training. But most of all, it is GPS equipped and plots distance and speed in real time. Wow.

Suddenly, I could improvise, turn right and left, be stopped by a traffic light, change my mind, double back, and the 305 kept track of it all, live. My running most likely has changed forever. The Forerunner is a brilliant tool and while wearing it won’t make me a better runner, trusting it might.

I set out for my first Brooklyn run on July 16, having spent 12 hours on the train from Montreal the previous day. New York was experiencing its first real heat of the summer and humidity was soaring. I opted for running across the Brooklyn Bridge, down to the tip of Manhattan and back, which was supposed to yield just about my usual 10 km.

The Forerunner looked at me funny on a street corner when I had it acquire its satellites; it had become used to Northwestern Pacific skies. I must have looked funny too. I was sweating even before kicking into a slow warm up jog. I’d bought a small water bottle but seriously wished I had my Camelback.

From Henry Street, I aimed right towards Walt Whitman Park because its path would be familiar ground and it leads straight unto the bridge via a dark staircase. I started slowly, with the firm intention of finishing as slowly, acclimating to the heat and the crowds. I had no idea.

From a pedestrian perspective, the Brooklyn Bridge is a zoo. There’s no other way to put it. It features a superb reserved path located above the car lanes on the south side of the structure and divided in two by a white line. Pedestrians on one side, bikers on the other. At least, that’s the theory. It turns out, however, that the bridge is busy 24 hours a day and plagued by an unusually high concentration of tourists, to whom the white line means about as much as the CDI of an old analog VOR Indicator. What, you have no idea what I’m talking about? My point, exactly.

Trying to run through that traffic was like flying IFR in a sky filled with crazy VFR pilots, out of control, off course, chasing their needle, oblivious to other traffic. They step up suddenly in front of you and your only option is to jump into the bike lane and hope to avoid a collision.

By definition, a bridge features two inclines, one going up and the other, down. By the time I had verified the first fact of that statement, I was already sweating profusely, quite exhausted, and my heart beat was an alarming 10 BPM higher than usual. And I hadn’t even done one fifth of the intended 10K. I tried to use the descent to recover and cool off, but as I approached Manhattan, a new fact became alarmingly clear: there would be no cooling off, and my heart was stuck on high.

The slight breeze that had blessed the bridge disappeared and was replaced by heavy exhaust. By coming down the bridge, I had reached the peak of civilization. With a deeply disturbed thought about Stanley Park’s incredibly pure air, I contemplated passing out to benefit from an ambulance’s O2 supply but rejected the idea since they would probably have charged me half the cost of the ambulance for it.

So I pushed on, doubled back towards the water, passed under a highway and joined the waterfront, zigzagging to negotiate with more tourists. The old adage spun in circles in my head: « If it’s tourist season, how come I can’t shoot them? » From there, it should have been relatively smooth sailing to my turnaround point, somewhere near Battery Park. But this was New York and as I was learning fast, plans here must be very flexible.

A little beyond an old sailing vessel docked near the highest tourist concentration, my waterfront path was blocked by barriers and a heavy police presence. I had to divert to the street. Over my left shoulder, I saw 3 large helicopters on a landing pad, and recognized the famous United States of America lettering. I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t be allowed to run my waterfront route because the President was in town. New York is full of restrictions. It’s hard being a citizen here, I would imagine. One must allow for presidential movements.

By the time I reached Battery Park, I was totally beat up. The stop-and-go style of street running had taken a heavy toll on my rhythm and even as the late afternoon turned into a hazy evening, the heat was still tremendous. I barely looked at Lady Liberty stranded on her island, and did a 180 back. Down here, at the very tip of Manhattan, the crowd was much more local, lots of suits and high heels, but nevertheless quite annoying.

I dragged myself and my forerunner back to the bottom of the Brooklyn Bridge, ignoring until the last minute the terrible fact that I would have to run back uphill before I could slide down towards Brooklyn and my salvation. Surprisingly, I made it to the top of the bridge without hitting anybody. It must have been the snail pace I had fallen into.

Down on my side of town, I followed the little park back for a while, turned right and then left, and I was done, and Marie greeted me with the sweetest smile, and the cat purred and lead me to his food bowl, hopeful. I was home for now.

I looked at my wrist: I had fallen short of the intended 10K and gone for 9.5. That would have to do. The good news was that the worse was over. There would be a lot of psychological trauma to come which I was hoping to survive without therapy, but physically, the next run would be easier. I had crossed an invisible line. I had drawn first blood.

 

 Posted at 1:41 PM in New York: & Running: No comments yet »  Post one!
07
19
2009

Visiting Governors Island along with 10,000 friends

It was Sunday. We’d decided to have a picnic. Governors Island sounded like a decent choice because of its abundance of shade, free ferries, a blessed absence of cars and nice panoramic views of Manhattan.

When we left Brooklyn at 1:15 to catch the 2:00 PM ferry from the bottom tip of Manhattan, it all seemed possible. The F train, however, had other plans. Afflicted by a high week-end fever, if was avoiding our Bergen station altogether and forced us to negotiate a longer route and additional stopovers.

New York subway stations in the summer have much affinity with hell. Same heat, same hopelessness, same funny crowd. At least that’s what I gather from the stories I’ve heard. I haven’t been there.

We emerged from the subway, after much waiting and 3 transfers, 10 minutes too late. But never defeated, we headed towards the ferry terminal in case the web site had been misinformed about its own product. It had. There was an extra ferry leaving at 2:30. We lined up to be searched - this is New York after all and no one boards a free ferry for a 5 minute ride without opening their bag. Sadly, inside our bag was a small bottle of cider for the picnic. « Cider is like beer, » the guy said. « You can go back outside and chug it or give it up. » With a smile.

We did neither. Turning around, we picnicked in Battery Park instead, sandwiched between a mega family of noisy Venezuelans (¿Cómo está la vaina?) and a lazy Spiderman waving at kids without ever showing signs of intending to do anything entertaining. The cider was well worth standing up for, and lunch was delicious - left-over lamb in a sandwich and superb egg salad on crackers, flavoured with all kinds of herbs from the terrace.

And then we tried our ferry luck once more. The search was expedited and we were allowed inside the terminal to line up again as the boat was docking. A sign said that no more than 540 people were allowed on board and a pragmatic attendant commented casually that they had « done » 10,000 people the previous day. I had a cheerful thought about Indonesian ferries and brushed it off. If they can rescue airplane passengers off the Hudson River, fishing out ferry riders from the East River should be a breeze.

We boarded and sat on the upper deck in the sun, and waited for departure looking at the New York skyline and many helicopters buzzing around. The ride to Governors Island is more a hop than anything else. The ferry blows her horn as the Captain backs up, she turns around, heads out, crosses the wake of a few other ships and you’re there. Their docking technique is a bit mystifying but it seems to work. And then 540 people pour out onto the small island.

The first perfectly normal reaction of a visitor tackling insular life is to seek the bathrooms. Then comes the first set back; on Governors Island, there are no proper bathrooms. Instead, they have plastic portable things they call royal flushes, without a trace of humour. On a construction site, maybe. In a park visited by 10,000 people daily, I don’t know...

So we walked around and took the usual tourist shots of Manhattan giving us its best profile, a Norwegian cruise ship headed to sea, many ferries zooming by and the gigantic post-super-Panamax gantry cranes over on the Brooklyn side. We also visited the Waterpod, a artistico-scientifico-socio-green project that strands 4 people on a barge and forces them to eat only whatever food they can grow on their own - so we’re talking veggies and veggies and veggies, chickens for the eggs, composting, recycling, and the occasional chicken Mc Nugget when they get fed up with proper etiquette. No, really, it’s cool. The French guy volunteering on board said with a ferocious smile that the chickens hadn’t been laying too many eggs since they were towed to this location and were exposed to the non-stop wave action of high-speed ferries.

We also walked the moat. This is a highly ritual activity that consists of entering, following and then exiting a grass covered trench between an old building and its surrounding fields, and imagining it water-filled and under siege. I think the Grand Canyon has very little to envy this moat.

But all good things must end and we had to get back in line to board our return ferry, already dreaming out loud of a shower and A/C coolness. And of washing our hands. The line was so long that we couldn’t even see the start of it. I went on a mission to buy water bottles. When I came back, things were looking much improved, the line had crept forward and, as it seems so frequent in New York, Marie had managed to run into her very good friends Mimi and Eric, also waiting to go back home. Assuming that another 10,000 people crossed over to the island on that day, what were the odds?

We were all herded on the ferry - and I mean literally herded since there were two lanes, one labeled goats and the other sheep. I swear.

Back in Manhattan, we opted for the R line as an experiment that worked rather well, dropping us off within walking distance of the Brooklyn stores we needed to restock for dinner, but that’s another wonderful story. All and all, 10,000 people isn’t that bad when one can hold a beloved hand.

Ouf.

 

 Posted at 6:47 PM in New York: 1 Comment » Toggle display • Reply
07
18
2009

The eagle has bounced, many times, and finally landed

Bear with me. Many habits have to be twisted. Bearings shall be taken. Solutions must be drafted and ideas might sprout. It could be as simple as looking for a spot to lay my laptop or a way to hang clothes. Sometimes it’s as comical as comparing our evolutions in the tiny flat to that of submarine crew members. Everything has a place, square inches must not be wasted and sequence does matter. The bowl goes on the shelf before the cup or it will not fit. It’s chaos theory at its funny best. The cat meowing a snappy order for someone to clean his litter box triggers a chain of seemingly uncoordinated events that depend on our close quarters coordination and flexibility, as all three of us do not always fit in the same space simultaneously. We are learning an intricate dance, the ultimate demonstration of symbiosis, and loving it. The submarine is cozy and comfortable, though, and so tastefully decorated; no sharp metal edges here nor hard bunk beds. And it has a gorgeous pink terrace instead of a periscope. When we want to surface and watch the world, we just slide a door open and walk into the garden.

So my initial posting patterns will most probably be inarticulate or erratic while I gather momentum and define a new operational routine. I am severely distracted by Marie’s divine cooking and Estorbo’s fierce appetite for affection and the strangest foods. I’ve taken many pictures already, most of which probably won’t make it to the blog. But again, bear with me. Order will come.

For now, as I am experimenting with new running routes and dealing the best I can with the unbearable lightness of being on extended leave, here are a couple of pictures taken from a New York rooftop while Marie was meeting with a Russian TV crew.

This bumble bee, oblivious to all that media frenzy, took off right into my lens on a critical mission to the next flower. The mighty Empire State Building was asleep in the background...

 

 Posted at 9:10 PM in Always: & New York: 1 Comment » Toggle display • Reply
07
15
2009

The Adirondack Train to New York

July 15th, 2009

A coffee at my side, I’m sitting in the almost deserted café car of Amtrack’s Adirondack train to New York, pondering how much more comfortable than planes these trains are… A wide table all to myself that could sit four people easily, the smell of coffee and breakfast, the gentle rocking - I love restaurant cars. They represent everything a plane still can’t offer, decades after Boeing came up with its Jumbo jet’s hump as a potential lounge area. On a train, one can stretch legs and walk around without having to fear the wrath of overzealous and security-obsessed flight attendants. Individual seats are as wide and comfortable as airline first class seats, they recline further, have knee and foot rests, a wide unobstructed window, curtains, and ever-changing scenery. And on top of that, there’s a 120 V. power outlet for each passenger, hence my typing of this on my laptop, live. The posting will be delayed a bit. No Wi-Fi yet.

Having left Montreal’s Central Station at 9:30 AM, we’ll arrive at New York’s Penn around 8:30 PM, hardly a swift way to travel when a direct flight would take under 3 hours. But it’s as much fun and quite cheaper; a round-trip from Montreal to New York and back on Amtrak costs US$ 120.00, or roughly the price of a cab ride or two from Brooklyn to one of the local NYC airports.

Our train is rather short. Five cars and a engine, the café car being tucked half way down the row. It opened soon after we left, closed during the border crossing and re-opened afterward.

The train stops about 20 times along the way. Most spots are in semi-rural areas and in some cases the station platform is so short that the train stops right across a road leading to it, blocking rare traffic for a few minutes, and forcing the crew to only use the one exit on the entire train that faces the platform. At wider stations, a crew member passes by to announce which door to use if we want to stretch our legs for two minutes in the sun or smoke (!), and this is always a different door then the exiting/boarding one. The full-trip passengers have been seated at the rear of the train and we are being given a little extra consideration. But these guys are operating on time and the crew man on the dock calls the remaining stretching time in minutes and seconds! At 30 seconds, he’s herding everyone back on, or else.

We initially followed Lake Champlain’s western bank to the south and then pushed on. The so-called Adirondacks were quite disappointing. I could only handle so many identical fields and trees and green prairies and eventually fell asleep for a while. After Albany, we picked up some speed. The tracks must be better down here, and there are less road crossings. Yet the engine is still blowing its whistle – which sounds more like a horn - almost constantly. Or maybe we’re just late.

The pattern is always the same: two long blasts, one short, one long. How long they are seems to depend on our speed. The faster we go, the longer the blasts. We haven’t seen much opposite traffic at all. At one point, our conductor explained that we were parking on a side track for 10 to 15 minutes to give way to the northbound train, a sister Amtrak convoy which passed us with a merry whistle blow.

But it won’t be long now. Soon, the train will leave the Hudson’s eastern bank and plunge underground for a final stretch into Manhattan. I will have arrived. Marie is waiting for me at Penn Station. Ah, les quais de gare...

Apologies for the very crappy pictures taken from a fast moving train, barely worth posting...

 

 Posted at 7:03 PM in Always: & New York: 3 Comments » Toggle display • Reply
07
11
2009

Free @ YVR

It’s 9:26 AM. Finally, Vancouver’s International Airport offers terminal-wide free Wi-Fi access. I’m sitting in the more modest Domestic Departure Terminal, gate B21. Westjet flight 506 is on time, bound for Montreal Trudeau International, aka good old Dorval airport.

Even though I’m still in town and I didn’t have to clear customs this time, Vancouver and the West Coast have already receded far behind the horizon and an imaginary but very tangible line now separates me from an old home, drawing me towards a new one.

My heart is heavy. British Columbia is an extraordinary place and will be dearly missed. But where I’m going, no time to cry; many more jewels await and my own star shines with infinite grace on the Eastern Seaboard.

We leave small pieces of ourselves everywhere we go, but take so much in exchange along with us, to keep us warm, to keep us amazed, and growing. Change is a blessing. It reminds me, always, of the uncanny ability of this universe to keep surprising me. I wonder how the other ones work...


"Everything will be alright
Everything will turn out fine
Some nights I still can’t sleep
And the voices pass with time
And I keep

No time for tears
No time to run and hide
No time to be afraid of fear
I keep no time to cry"

The Sisters of Mercy - No Time to Cry


 

 Posted at 12:26 PM in Always: & Schtroumpfissime: 1 Comment » Toggle display • Reply
07
05
2009

Good bye Vancouver

As I sit at home in an almost empty apartment, sorting out my fireworks pictures while waiting for Craigslist to do its magic and rid me of a few remaining pieces of furniture, I am peering through my immense window at the city beyond. Without leaving my seat, I can count around 60 buildings - the tallest being Shangri-La at 62 floors - and less than 10 of these are office towers. With more than 100,000 people living on a 5 by 5 km peninsula, the heck if I can’t sell a couple of dressers, a table and a bed.

The July 1st fireworks seemed lame but I was stationed further away than usual. I had decided to include more skyline in my shots and parked myself at the very beginning of Coal Harbour, where the city meets Stanley Park and water is at its calmest.

In any case, I thought it would be proper to end my photo posting from Vancouver with fireworks. These will be the last pictures taken in Vancouver this year, and maybe - who knows - forever. I hope to be able to post something from Quebec next week-end, maybe a trail run report from revisiting the good old Dieppe run on Mont St Hilaire. And then entries will resume from New York, and this blog’s name will change slightly. Stay tuned!

As for you Vancouverites, « I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve... I regret to announce that - though, as I said, three and a half years is far too short a time to spend among you - this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE! »*

* Borrowed from Tolkien.

 

 Posted at 9:09 PM in Schtroumpfissime: & Vancouver: 11 Comments » Toggle display • Reply
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