Doors offer access even as they block it. In my apartment-building doors are what keeps the world outside and firedoors what creates a notion of safety inside. You see the building had suffered a fire years ago and like London post 1666 the psychosis among the natives is palpable. I buy it, I understand it, but I also, as a Greek feel odd about it. Fire hazzard drills were non-existent in Greece where cement just makes us assume a posture of hubris; that is till the forest next to us burns... Meawhile in my own abode, the logistical possibility of hosting people has just been created as my couch-bed has arrrived making my space more friendly to visitors. And even as my place is ready to be lived-in, I have to abandon it in order to play tour-guide for 29 young Canadians. Good luck to me and to them.

A new day brings me closer to the departure, but also directly into a new kind of work and life arrangement as by now I am getting to test-live my new place. I have not used the bedroom yet but I am settled on my desk and dealing with the bureaucratic and research issues that constitute my life at this stage. It is not the brightest of days, which is an understatement for :it has been raining all day and I just saw a bit of light from the south east," yet it feels good listening to the Band and editing a future article. The new work area is pretty good and well positioned for Vancoveur's grey reality, just under the main living-room windows. More work to be had, not more procrastinating.

Here I am in new environs. This posting will have the mundane but necessary function of guiding you through my new abode. It starts from the middle. We skip the entry and the front door as I simply did not photograph it. Maybe a sense that the name "Oakcrest" written on the translucent door window would invite mocking comments. Or maybe just a haste to drag you into the very inards of my world. What you see here is the living room with emphasis on the windows and the Audio-visual equipment. Should you wish to escape this second picture shows you the way towards the corridor. One could argue that the breadth of this hall is space wasted. To be frank, in my previous space this hall would have made up a bedroom. Still should you wish to leave here is the door. So, you are still here. Let us then turn towards the food preparation laboratory. To reach it we have to go past the dining room. One is linked to the other and both are connected to the living room as is plainly evident from this next picture. To the left side of the dining room just before the windows there is space for a bookcase. Unfortunately it simply did not fit the stairs up to my aprtment. It patiently waits dismantling and reassembly. Glory and curses to IKEA. So you arrive to the dining room, which has pretty decent light. In fact the apartment in general has very good light, which I am afraid may mean that I will be warm in the summer. Contributions to global warming are expected as an airconditioning unit may be purchased. Smaller than my previous kitchen, this one is less kitsch and at the same time has at least as many cupboards and storage. Overall an improvement though I will miss the in-kitchen table. On our way out of the kitchen we get the opportunity to look at the living room from the very corner of the dining-space and get the full size of the windows looking on oak. I should be getting pictures of the mountains to the north-east. Yes I can see them from my windows. I lack balconies though. We move to the bedroom. This is the view from the bathroom accross the hall and into the bedroom. As you can see the light is pretty good in this area of the apartment as well. The bedroom is also used as an office and yet it does not seem as if this makes it crammed. So this is it. I may post more as paintings go up the walls and as my desk and bookcase are positioned in place. More of the bedroom will also follow. For now a break. Health.

The early morning rise has its rewards. You see a world untouched yet from the fretfulness of the day that runs on coffee. I drove N to the airport and then took the bus to campus. Some work to be done on my course and a medical kit to collect for the field -school. Even as I ride the bus I feel my self getting aggravated by the bumps on the road shaking my note-taking tablet. Even as the day grows older I feel anger seeping in me. I have to wonder whether life is mostly a process of anger management. The ones of us who do it best are the either successful or quietly irrelevant. Those who fail are incarcerated, killed in a blaze of rapid machine gun fire or simply rise to become Attila the Hun. The day however, is still young and the sun pierces the dense forest on the hill to my work. Not a bad moment even if I feel the urgent need for sleep, or maybe more coffee. I have arrived at the office and among other things I am once again facing a naked door. Someone removed my name tag from the door. It is the second time and it is a bit annoying. You assume that once you got your F you turn to self-reflection and work harder. I need to be careful however, who knows how one moves from stealing name tags to shooting the professor. Maybe this will be the next form of academic attire. Please excese the gratuitous use of sexy bullet proof vest model.

There is something reassuring in seeing an electorate learn. The French are certainly still in an existential crisis regarding the direction of their republic, they have nevertheless learned an important lesson: if you do not want the fascists in the game and if you want to have a choice between slightly different visions of the future, you need to vote. Apathy is not a political statement. With participation in the order of 80 t0 85% the French have made this Sunday a celebration of the political process, with football games on the side as a refreshment to boot. So Lyon is winning the championship for this year in France and the Sego-Sarko shootout will entertain us in two weeks time offering a true clash of distinctly different ideas rearding France's future direction. Whether we like the two clashing visions or not is another story. At least for now we can be consoled in the existence of la différence.

To return to a tired subject I will quote people I normally dislike, the Economist: "Americans are in fact queasier about guns than the national debate might suggest. Only a third of households now have guns, down from 54% in 1977. In poll after poll a clear majority has supported tightening controls." I will stop at this point writing about guns in the US. I am not exactly sure what prompts me to even bother. Maybe the feeling that this constitutes one of the more egregious violations of reason on the part of our neighbors in the south. For now then lets leave it at that and focus on writing a biography of a medieval Byzantine bureaucrat and meeting my students for punch and chatter. The new big question is the following: how to put the life experience of your friends in a biography of a medieval man and make it relavant. To offer a hint, it is the big man in the City whose life I find useful for historical analysis.

Tim Kaine noted with an air of righteousness worthy of a medieval pope that he has "nothing but loathing for those who take the tragedy and make it political." Well, not that it matters, but I have nothing but contempt for people like Tim Kaine. People who have been instrumental in converting the term "political" into a slur only to themselves score points in a political board-game. By making this statement Kaine was embarking in this most "Bushian" of activities: pre-emptive strike. Not politician of note in the US made a statement linking guns and the crime on VTech's campus, not one, that itself a sad reminder of the collapse of meaningful debate in the US, and of the sterilization of politics from anything like substantive discussion. Yet the Democratic governor struck and made a hyper-political move by attacking those who had not expressed themselves, i.e. the cowed, defeated majority of Americans who want gun controls. Like a nasty tyrant unleashed on the hopeless majority, Kaine created a false enemy and then savaged that imaginary foe, so as to strike a chord with the demented pro-gun electorate he serves in Virginia. As if the gun-control majority has not been savaged enough over the years by representatives too weak to take a stand and legislate. It is Kaine who deserves loathing for libelling the gun-control majority and scoring political points with the gun-totting nuts. It is Kaine who is a sad reflection of what the future of the Democrats and the country as a whole looks like. I would be ready, if not too happy, to accept this type of Democrat if at least they were truly liberal in issues of class, if they represented an odd gun-slinging ABBA-style scandinavian economic vision. Yet I think that we can safely discount this. Just because Webb is a populist, it does not mean we are in for a new New Deal. Be pessimistic people, Tim Kaine is evidence of days to come. And I loath the days and the governor.