Miscellany.

Facebook took a few days to figure out it should be pushing me the Menton municipal page, which is too bad because I found out on the day after it happened that there had been a little wreath-laying ceremony, with a color guard and US/UK flags and national anthems, commemorating the 81st anniversary of the Allies’ liberation of Menton. That would have been cool!

But the honor guard was formed from the crew of a French naval vessel called Le Pluton which docked in the harbor for the occasion, and they were open to the public and giving tours. So when we went out for afternoon gelato we wandered to the harbor and joined the tour.

Our guide talked very fast and I followed him pretty well but I couldn’t translate much and listen at the same time. Fortunately, a naval vessel is, as Mark put it, a “context-rich enviroment,” and most of the things that Simon wanted to know, Mark could guess or tell him based on prior knowledge and I could confirm from what I could pick up. Like: “That, son, is a hyperbaric chamber.” Moments later I heard hyperbare and subsequently what was obviously an explanation of the bends.

I threw random facts back at them as I sifted them from the patter. Ship launched in 1985. Supports “plongeur-démineurs”—divers who defuse explosives? Some of these folks.

So, that was pretty cool. Zodiacs on the deck, the kitchen, the bridge, the naval map spread out of the whole eastern French Riviera.

I don’t much like messing about in boats, but there is something I love about getting to see the inside of a working vessel when it is safely docked. The way all its parts fit compactly together like a puzzle, the abundant signage, the clever little racks and attachments that keep things where you left them, the low ceilings that cause sub-five-footers like me zero trouble, the way space is not wasted…

…the way the enviroment is so context-rich, I guess.

But also the way the humans who occupy the space leave their mark behind: a scribbled note tucked into the corner of a display board, a jumbled messy-desk visible through a hatch, and a joke Mark photographed: a three-ring binder among a stack of operation manuals whose cover had been replaced with a French version of “Machinery for Dummies.”

I think if I were a small child I would come away wanting to go to sea, because I would imagine having a tiny cozy capsule of a bunk, and cooking in a fairy-sized kitchen, and having a lot of specialized tools.

I am not a small child, however, and I know better! But it’s still fairly entertaining to crawl all around and spider up the impossibly steep stairs, looking at everything. The best might be the view of the harbor from the window, though.