Gadget inspectors

A trip through the French countryside puts tech to the test -- not to mention a son's relationship with his dad.

The writer and his father, Peter Louderback, check out some new travel gadgets at Dulles International Airport in Virginia before taking off for France.

For father's day this year, I gave my dad an early present: a trip to anywhere in the world, just the two of us. I know it sounds extravagant, but it was also his 70th birthday, so I splurged. Dad had always wanted to visit the fine winemakers in France, so it was off to the chateaus and vineyards of Bordeaux.

When I last terrorized Europe, 15 years ago, the sum total of my travel preparation amounted to the purchase of a EurailPass, a "Let's Go Europe" guidebook and a newfangled internal-frame backpack that, with a few zips, transformed into a suitcase. The one electrical device I carried was a flashlight.

Fast forward to spring 2002. The Internet is big on everything travel, from researching any imaginable destination to making reservations at trendy three-star restaurants in foreign countries. And all manner of cool little gadgets have been invented to eliminate mishaps along the way, designed to conquer everything from language barriers to driving dilemmas.

Sound too good be true? Well, I myself was a tad suspicious of all those high-tech travel aids. After all, this was my dad we were talking about, and everything had to be perfect. I aimed to put technology's promise to a pretty heavy test.

It started with the planning. Internet travel sites abound, and most hotels, restaurants and chateaus have Web sites, too. Although I did buy a few guidebooks, I made all my reservations through e-mail. I don't speak French, but that wasn't an obstacle: Free Web services translated my English requests into français -- and the French replies back into English. I even made dinner reservations at Arzak, one of the hottest restaurants in Europe, and just over the border in Spain -- without knowing a speck of Spanish. Within a few hours, I had accomplished what would have been impossible, or taken weeks, even a few years ago.

Better yet, I made some new friends, full of great advice. While investigating a wine Web site, I sparked up an e-mail acquaintance with Kathleen Buckley, a travel writer from Napa, Calif., who now lives in Velines, France. She was brimming with tips on wineries, and she even invited us to her house in the French countryside. Her dinner party, with two winemaking families, was the highlight of our trip.

A toast to the World Wide Web! But what of those snazzy gadgets?

This device was perfect for two guys who refuse to ask for directions.

You know how your own little idiosyncrasies are charming, but when your parents do them they're embarrassing and annoying? Well, at least I didn't have to worry about our inability to ask for directions, because I picked up a little item that promised we'd never get lost. This handy device from a company called Garmin is the size of a medium cellphone and uses satellite signals to determine where you are and even how fast you're going. It stores detailed European street maps and provides explicit driving directions.

It's not perfect -- you still need maps -- but without it, we'd still be rambling about the hills of St. Emilion, stoically refusing assistance, searching for the tiny Chateau Guillemot (excuse the oxymoron, but it's small by French chateau standards).

I had similarly high hopes for the cellphone I brought. Before leaving, I purchased a "world phone," which let me roam through Europe as if I were just one state away from home -- but at an absurd $3 a minute. So I also bought a special French chip, called a Mobicarte, designed to make my American phone speak French, complete with local French rates. Unfortunately, when we arrived, the Mobicarte and the phone just couldn't get along -- quel dommage!

The best technology smoothes out the creases and wrinkles of travel. And my dandy new pocket translator did just that, albeit in an unexpected way. The device supposedly understands what you say to it in English, and then translates it and speaks French out the other end. It's a great idea that probably will work in 2008. But today, computers, like the French, still have huge problems understanding English.

But it wasn't a total disaster. At Kathleen's dinner party, it turned "Thank you for the great dinner" into "It was disgusting," and "You are very beautiful" into "How much?" What better way to break the ice with a roomful of total strangers in a foreign country whose language you don't know? Bon anniversaire, Papa!

Contributing Editor Jim Louderback is author of "Secrets of the Digital Studio".

Photo of the Louderbacks by SAM KITNER for USA WEEKEND