THIS AND THAT IN FRANCE: 12 FEBRUARY, 2026

 in no particular order…

 

POWER OUTAGE: As I sit at my keyboard, we have been without electrical power for about 30 minutes, the consequences of a major storm that dumped tons of rain with winds of 40 miles per hour or more over the course of several hours. Power outages beyond the occasional blip that cause the electronics to blink don’t seem as common as they were 10 years ago. But both power outages and loss of cellular service are a fact of life in the rural south. Unfortunately, we’ve modernized. We’ve turned in our gas range for an induction hob. So no coffee in house until the power returns unless why try to use the Weber to boil water. A French neighbor has rung the bell, though, to let us know that she still cooks with gas, so we are welcome to come over. It’s getting towards lunch time. Nice to have an option. (Edit: After about two hours, power was restored for us, though not for everyone in the village. Friends were still without power 18 hours and counting after the storm hit. Winds exceeded hurricane force. Trees are down throughout the region. Major highways are closed. Houses of friends are damaged. Serious storm.)

 

pétanque: Over a year ago, I was part of a group of expats organized to form an association, basically a nonprofit that is recognized by the regional government, to make use of the town’s underutilized indoor facility for playing pétanque, a steel building with an interior that can be configured to accommodate 15 terrains (courts) as well as a small kitchen. The building’s primary use over the years has been to host community yard sales and the distribution of the Christmas trees sold by the school’s equivalent of the PTA. A typical French bureaucratic snafu complicating our application developed. Apparently, although we were never notified, our application had been approved. But in the meantime, and without knowledge of our effort, a different group composed entirely of native French in the village had the same idea and began the same application process. After some huffing and puffing, the leadership of the two groups held a meeting, smoothed things over, and decided to merge their efforts. The French group will fold into and take leadership of our association, which is fine with us given that we agree on how things should proceed and that our group will have equal representation on the board. Shout out to our secretary Annette, who has taken on the work of getting the mounds of paperwork sorted.

REVIEWING MODERN POP: I cruise YouTube daily. I enjoy trying to figure out what Sabine Hossenfelder has to say about the science of particle physics. Clips of The Crown bring back pleasant memories of the initial binge watch. And I enjoy listening to the music videos of my favorite artists like Gov’t Mule. Check out Warren Haynes’ version of She Said, She Said if you get a chance. Great Beatles cover. As always, the algorithm has suggestions for me. And the suggestions have been running to reaction videos. If you’re not familiar with the genre, it’s apparently become very popular and, not coincidentally, a significant source of income for some of the more savvy YouTube operators. And the videographers, all a third as old as I am or younger, react to what I would consider the classic rock groups. If you take them at their word, they’ve never heard the music of the likes of Jethro Tull (Is the lead singer the one whose name is Jethro and is that a flute?) or Led Zeppelin (They’re almost as good as Tool.). And so, I had a thought. Dangerous, I know. I should use reaction videos of my own, not as a way to make money but as a way to explore modern music that I would otherwise not be inclined to expose myself to. There might be hidden gems. I can report that Chappel Roan is not a hidden gem. In fact if you follow the Grammys, you’ll know that there’s very little that Roan hides at all. But there’s Billy Strings and Mon Rovia and, to my surprise, Billy Eilish. I’ll put together a post with more samples sometime soon. Above is the video about the group Wolf Alice, 2.5 Stars out of 4.

LA DISTILLERIE: RESTAURANT REVIEW

 

Every once in a while, you just get lucky. 

 

I was checking out a different restaurant on Maps when I noticed La Distillerie nearby. Menu looked good, if a bit too comprehensive for comfort. I worry that such menus mean that the dishes are being pulled from the freezer. The prices were right, in the sweet spot between bar food and fine dining. Some friends and I decided to give it a go. We were not disappointed. In fact, I have no doubt that La Distillerie in Saint Marcel sur Aude will become part of our regular rotation.

 

A meat locker displaying beef and duck and lamb and more met us near the front door on arrival. Next to the meat case was a sizeable wood-fired grill. So far, so good. The dining room is high-ceiling and airy. The house cat seemed right at home sitting on one of the tables at the back. Animals are a feature of restaurants in France, if you didn't know. That bothers some people. Not us.

 

We all ordered from the 27€ dinner menu. Gravlox to start for four of us plus one moules gratinées. And then entrecôte for all. 

 

The gravlox was superb, a good portion well presented. and the dishes were properly chilled. The moules were perhaps a bit cheesy, not what our table mate was accustomed to. But the beef…

 

We all agreed, perhaps the best steak that we’d had in France. Seriously. Moist and tender, not chewy, and cooked to order. Impeccable, as were the frites. If you show interest, staff will happily describe the home from which the contented cows came.

 

The desserts were fine, as advertised if a bit anticlimactic. It was the beef the made the evening. Maybe it was a function of our general disappointment with the quality and taste of most beef served in France. The typical steak/frites can be a workout for the jaws. But I don't think so. We all agreed. An honest-to goodness, lip smacking piece of meat.

 

With two bottles of wine and a small round up to show our appreciation, 40€ per person.

 

We’ll be back often. I’ll try other menu items too. I'm a sucker for good grilled lamb. Anything close to as good as the entrecôte will be worth the drive.

LO CAGAROL - RESTAURANT REVIEW

In front of a warm fire in a pleasant room, Cathey and I spent two hours enjoying drinks and dinner, well prepared and cheerfully served, in the restaurant Lo Cagarol in the village of Aigne in the direction of Minerve from our home in Quarante. 

The mussels were small but the portion was sufficient to share. The broth was lightly spiced and plentiful. We were given bread to sop it up and a soup spoon to finish it off. I never did figure out how to use the little springy doodads that were provided.

My duck yakitori was a tasty fusion, properly seared with good color and creamy mashed on the side. The best duck that I've had in a while. 

Cathey’s St. Jacques could have been better, served as it was in a deep bowl that didn’t allow the pasta to breathe, a minor but real disappointment. 

At dessert, I simply asked our server if there was anything chocolate, and chocolate arrived in the form of a gooey lava cake, a scoop of dark ice cream, and chantilly. 

All in all, a comfortable and satisfying dining experience. Our 45€ per person freight included two aperitifs and a bottle of a favored pink from a regional domain Cailhol Gautran. Worth a visit for a tasting. 

We won’t return to Lo Cagarol often. Our preference runs to less formal village bars and inns. But we will return.

A TYPICAL FRENCH VILLLAGE: Nothing Typical About It

 

Our First House in Quarante

Walk out of our front door, turn left, go up the hill about 25 meters, and look to your right. You’ll see a tall stone wall, the ramparts of the old city, a defensive wall that’s close to 1,000 years old.

Walk out of our front door, turn right, walk down the hill about 25 meters, and look up and to your left. You’ll see a pimple, about the size of half of a melon, stuck into the façade of one of the houses. A cannonball, a remnant of a 16^th Century siege of the village conducted by Count Montmerency during the French War of Religions.

Quarante, the village that I’m describing, is perhaps the only village in France whose name is simply a number. Quarante. 40. Why name a village after a number? There are a couple of proposed reasons. The most likely is that the name is derived from the Latin word Quadraginta, the word for 40, signifying the distance in leagues from Quarante to the largest Roman city east of Rome at the time, the city of Narbonne.

Quarante is not on the radar of most guidebooks. It’s not on the Canal du Midi. The Abbey Sainte-Marie de Quarante, constructed in the early 10^th Century, is not nearly as ornate as the places of worship in most of the surrounding villages. And modern Quarante has never been the home of many more than 2,000 souls. But unlike other, better-known villages of its size, Quarante offers a full menu of important services:

· A bakery 
· Two butchers – though one may be on the cusp of retirement
· A tabac, home to a small épicerie (grocery) 
· A bar/café 
· A doctor 
· A pharmacy 
· A post office 
· An école maternelle (preschool) through a collège (middle school) 
· A kinesiologist – the French equivalent of a chiropractor 
· A dentist (recently retired) 
· Two hairdressers 
· Various local artists and artisans 
· Several local winemakers 
· But no petrol station and no cash point

And then there’s the walking group. Founded by a serious walker, a Brit with a handheld GPS and laminated maps of local rambles, the group has been taken over by an American otherwise reluctant to exercise (me). At any one time, walking together might be Brits, Americans, Canadians, Scots, Germans, Italians, Swedes, Swiss, and more. Yes, French too. The walks conclude with coffee at the local bar, at a tabac that serves coffee in a neighboring village, or at the home of one of the walkers. A weekly email designates meeting times and places for thrice weekly walks. 68 names are on the distribution list.

A typical village? Clearly not. A typical French village is supposed to have a bustling weekly market in the village square. Quarante usually hosts just a single veggie lady. A typical French village is pictured as having blooming flowers on display from early spring through fall at the entrances to the village and in the squares. Quarante’s lone public gardener prefers local flora that can stand Mediterranean heat and doesn’t require constant watering. A typical French village should have a Michelin-worthy chef who just wants to create amazing little dishes in a small restaurant that only the locals know about. Alex at Quarante’s Bar 40 is one fine French cook, but not a Michelin chef.

But clearly, yes. Quarante is most definitely a typical French village. Thank heavens. Because there’s nothing cookie cutter about French villages. If you want to take a picture of a 16^th Century cannonball stuck on a wall, Quarante might be the place for you. But a couple of kilometers to the northwest, there’s a typical village with a dinosaur museum. Amazing, almost-complete skeletons. In the typical village on the Canal du Midi a few minutes to the southeast, one can view strikingly preserved medieval paintings along the rafters of the Castle of the Archbishops of Narbonne.

So how do you define a typical French village? Drop the word ‘typical’ and you have it. A French village is a French village, each and every one worth exploring.

Laundry in Paradise

Adam and Eve’s defiant, irresistible urge to take a bite out of that particular apple led to one very unfortunate result. I’m not talking about sex. I’m a healthy male human. I do not consider sex unfortunate. I’m not talking about children. Although we have none, I thoroughly enjoy spending time with my niece and nephew and their children…in carefully controlled increments. No. The unfortunate result of the bite of that apple was the consensus-driven predilections for humans to wear clothing. And with clothing comes laundry. So while France may be viewed as Paradise by Americans looking for relief from the Hell that has been created in the Colonies, it falls to me to report that it is still necessary to do laundry in Paradise. And run the vacuum cleaner. And wash windows. And, I have recently discovered, learn how to wipe the induction cooktop clean.

Pets shed in France. Birds poop on your car. Entitled assholes steal your parking space and cut in line at the checkout.

In other words, much of the day-to-day annoyances that plague your day-to-day if you are still living in the USofA will likely find their counterparts in France. And be forewarned, living in France comes with particular annoyances all their own. I can’t speak to what’s annoying in Paris or other major metropolitan areas. We don’t live near a city that hosts cruise ships or has had its housing market distorted by Airbnb. No, we live in a quiet rural village of 1,500 souls who know each other, at least by sight, and get along reasonably well with each other. We live surrounded by the largest vineyard in the world, seven times the area of Napa, three times that of Bordeaux. Small, compact villages connected by well-maintained two-lane blacktops, surrounded by seas of carefully manicured vines, the largest vineyard in the world. What could possibly be annoying about that?

To my way of thinking, not much. What’s that, you ask? You list annoyances that can subtract from the enjoyment of a pleasant, fulfilling retirement in the rural south of France, then claim that they don’t really matter? Well, they don’t. Not to get all Zen about it, but living a satisfying life involves understanding the rhythms of the life that surrounds you. Household chores are necessary and, when done effectively and efficiently, can be fulfilling in and of themselves. That’s the simple part. More importantly, the culture that surrounds you has a rhythm to it that needs to be observed and understood. Shopping at the village butcher is a perfect example.

When our old butcher retired and sold his business to a young local, his younger wife stayed on to run the front of the shop as she had been doing for many, many years. Smart move for all concerned. Nadine was a fixture who would represent continuity to the community, she knew the work inside out, and she could put in her hours and leave her work at the end of the day without taking her work home with her.

Nadine is an important nexus for local news and information. There’s always a conversation along with the service. Four patrons may be in line, ready to buy the makings of their dinners, but there’s conversation. It’s not that Nadine doesn’t know that you’re waiting for her. It’s not that she doesn’t care. But everyone gets their turn to hold a conversation with Nadine. When it’s your turn, Nadine will give you her full attention. Full attention. If the conversations that precede you include catching up with grandkids or the best way to use a particular cut of meat, so be it. You wait your turn. Patiently. You might have news to impart or questions to ask too. Some might call the waiting annoying. Those that do aren’t attuned to the rhythm of village life.

And the rhythm of the seasons in our rural setting keeps us on your toes.

As soon as a renewing spring threatens, groups of (mostly) men dressed in Spandex take to our narrow two-lane blacktops that are just twisty enough to make passing interesting. And the law gives them the right to the full lane. Their speed (and their Spandex) could be annoying if you let them be. But it’s spring and I’m retired, so what’s the rush?

We don’t live in a town of any great interest to tourists, but the region as a whole is saturated with places of interest that beckon travelers and owners of second homes in summer. Added to the tarmac mix that includes the bicyclists are the drivers of caravans and lost drivers of rentals. Well maintained, twistie tarmac is made for vehicular enjoyment by an old motorcyclist like me. But it’s summer and I’m retired, so what’s the rush?

And if the bikes and the strangers depending on GPS slow you down, just wait until vendange (the grape harvest) from late August through September arrives. It will be necessary to add time lost for following slow-moving agricultural machinery to any trip of significant length. But it’s autumn and I’m retired, so what’s the rush?

No. The answer to such annoyances is not simply to exercise patience. Patience implies the forbearance of an unpleasant circumstance. Taking time out to immerse yourself fully in the rhythm of the moment may feel unnecessarily slow paced by the standards that you are used to, hustling and bustling Colonial that you are. But it’s France and you’re retired, so what’s the rush?

FRENCH HEALTH CARE, SOME SILLY STUFF, AND IRAN: #25

FRENCH HEALTH CARE

Even though United Health Care sits at the top of the charts when it comes to denying coverage, and even though those denials have most likely caused many avoidable deaths, those denials are no excuse for murder. It's easy to believe that a denial of service led to the murder recently of United Health Care's CEO because for-profit healthcare in this day and age is an abomination, plain and simple. The data on both the ridiculous costs and the poor outcomes of the American for-profit system are clear and compelling.

Around the world, the United States ranks 48th in life expectancy. France is 13th. Of the world's 38 high income countries, the US has the highest infant mortality rate and the highest maternal mortality rate, averaging about three times higher. That's a disgrace. And yet the US spends nearly twice as much per capita for healthcare than France.

So Americans are dumping profit into a healthcare system that provides lousy outcomes while single-payer systems clearly supply the best bang for the buck. That's not to say that there aren't problems with single-payer systems, though. And the problems take two primary forms, funding and regional disparities in the availability of services.

Funding a single-payer system, if the single payer is the government, means taxes. And we are in a world in which rich folks are spending a lot of money, time, and effort to convince poor folks that they - the rich folks - are being taxed too much. So, incrementally, countries like France with vibrant single-payer systems are falling farther and farther into debt. We just have to look across the Channel to see a country whose single-payer healthcare system is almost completely broken, a country in which Thatcher joined Reagan years ago in making government itself villainous. That populist proposition, in France at least, is joined by a leftist philosophy that rejects any cuts in government services of any type while not having the balls to push for the taxes necessary to completely pay for those services. The result in France is a system that's still working quite well but that is in debt, limping along, waiting for the debt shoe to drop.

Two things have to be said. First of all, I'm an American expat with  limited understanding of the long term history of the various political movements in France and a limited familiarity of the thinking of the folks in Paris that shape policy. I'm just sticking my two cents in and my two cents is worth exactly that, two cents. This is simply the way that the situation looks to me today. And secondly, I report that the French system has never failed us. We see specialists when we must, we have scheduled medical procedures when needed in a timely fashion, and throughout we have been treated with comity and respect. We just have the weird habit of being concerned about the future.

About those taxes. The French pay just under 10% of their salary, capital gains, and most other forms of income to the government as what are called their social charges. Employers contribute as well. Public pensions, like Social Security Retirement, are not taxable. In return, the system pays about 70% of all medical and drug bills. And costs are strictly controlled. Our GP charges the mandated 30€ for each of our several annual wellness visits, less than our copay with insurance in the USofA. We get all but about 2€ back from the public system and from our supplemental insurance for each visit. The supplemental insurance is purchased from a for-profit insurance company, costs us under 2000€ annually, and covers most of the costs that the government program does not. The full cost without any insurance at all for a routine surgery, like for cataracts, runs under 2000€. With our public and private insurances, I paid less than 100€ out of pocket for each eye. Cathey had two dental implants, for which coverage is not very comprehensive, and paid just over 1000€ total.

Over ten years ago, before I left the USofA, I paid $6,000 off the top of my paycheck annually to cover Cathey and was paid $6,000 less that I could have been to cover my employer's cost for insuring me. Do the math. $12,000 not counting out-of-pocket expenses, not an insignificant amount if you have a health problem that your insurance doesn't cover fully. In other words, your not being taxed anew. It's that the money you are paying for your health care is being put in a different pocket, a pocket that isn't worried about how much profit can be realized from your illness.

We're fortunate that we live in a rural region that's close to two small cities, Narbonne and Beziers, featuring not one or two but several hospitals and clinics. We have a wealth of choices. The farther into the hinterlands that you live, the fewer services that are readily available and the farther that you have to travel to get more specialized care. Services do tend to congregate in the cities. It makes sense that retirees often do, too.

That's all for now. Happy to take questions.

SILLINESS - IT'S BEEN AWHILE

There are times that I just can't help myself.

It takes a sloth one month to digest one leaf.

Chicle is a tree sap that is used in chewing gum. You guessed it. Chiclets. Not only can't the body break chicle down, but more recently, they have begun replacing chicle with stuff like synthetic polymers that the digestive tract can't handle either. Your Momma was smart when she told you not to swallow your gum. It's almost certainly gonna come out the other end, whether you realize it or not.

Moving to a different vital bodily function, breathing, did you know that trees produce less than half of Earth's oxygen? Phytoplankton is your friend. Don't plant a tree. Save the oceans.

Enough!

IRAN

If you haven't figured out that the war in the Middle East is Israel versus Iran, you haven't figured out the war in the Middle East. Because of Iran, the government of Lebanon has lost control of its southern half. Because of Iran, the Houthis destabilizing Yemen fire missiles at Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and shipping in the Gulf. And Iran and Putin are apparently the last remaining friends of Assad, that beacon of democracy in Syria, and Iran has just decided to skedaddle. EDIT And as I was writing this, Assad skedaddled too.

Many blame Israel for growing instability in the Middle East. And of course, Western meddling is a convenient bogeyman around the world for folks with grievances to air. But if there is one simple way to bring peace to the Middle East, that is to topple the mullahs in Iran and end that country's sponsorship of terrorism in the region. There was a time when the United States would have tried to do that through covert action by the CIA. It was wrong then and would be wrong now. But that doesn't mean that we should not encourage at every opportunity any movement in Iran that encourages Iranian women to live freely as equals with Iranian men and encourage those Iranian men to dance with their women friends and partners in the streets.

LEAVING THE UNITED STATES: THREE REASONS

We sold our house in Pennsylvania and moved to a small village in the rural south of France a little over ten years ago. We haven't regretted that decision for one moment. It's been five years since we were last in the United States and we don't anticipate returning, even for a visit, any time soon. I've been writing a blog since before we accomplished the move. Poke around in it. www.southfranceamerican.com

Here, I'm going to discuss the primary reasons that we decided to establish residence outside the United States and why we continue to believe that the decision to do so was a correct one. But I'm warning you. American politics was not one of the reasons that we left, although the politics of such topics as health and healthcare did play a role. And yes, Bush the Younger was President at the time of our decision, so one could imagine fleeing his goofy act. But no, we chose as we did for personal reasons that trump elections. (Gives you pause, all of a sudden seeing that word, doesn't it? First and last time.)

TRAVEL IN EUROPE

What did we want to do when we retired? Travel. Where did we want to travel? Europe. Why not live there? Simple as that. Really. Simple as that.

We've been to the Roman baths in Bath, England. We've seen parmigiano reggiano cheese production in Parma, Italy. For our 50th anniversary, we saw Tosca performed at the Opera Bastille in Paris. We've shopped a couple of times a year in Spain, sampled the fascinating assortment of pintxos in San Sebastian, and visited the Guggenheim in Bilbao. We traced Cathey's family back into the 15th Century in an archive in Switzerland, a seven-hour car ride away. Seven hours on a train gets me to a friend's place in Germany.  And did I mention that the clean sand, clean water beaches of the Mediterranean begin less than 25 miles away from where we live? Get the picture? Retired. Traveling in Europe.

Politics? I suppose that you can say so. We admit to being Eurocentric. We've studied Romance languages in school, visited museums displaying European cultural relics and art, listened to European music that's considered classical. At our age, we'd rather dig deeper into what was in our air growing up than try to inhabit a new cultural space. We have plenty to keep us busy right here in our old neighborhood.

WEATHER

Simultaneous with the decision to concentrate our search for a retirement destination in Europe, Cathey set one of her foot-down conditions, a primary condition. "I will never shovel snow again." If it's going to be Europe, that limits the geography. As I write this, Thanksgiving is just a few days away. As I write this, friends in Cologne, Germany are reporting snow. Cologne's latitude runs through Alaska. As I write this, friends in Paris report snow. A little early, but not unexpected. After all, North Dakota shares its latitude with Paris.

Researching for moderate climates, we centered our search on the Mediterranean Coast, not because we are beach people but because the sea moderates both summer and winter weather. There's lots of pretty country in that European strip of land up against the Med, and not all of it is super expensive. We found a nice pocket in the rural southwest of France, in Occitanie. Hot summers, but manageable with judicious use of the heat pump. Temps touch freezing a night or two in winter. The fireplace place makes it cozy. No snow shoveling.

COST OF LIVING

It may seem counter intuitive to some, but a couple with average Social Security Retirement checks can live quite comfortably in our neck of France. Of course, having additional pension income or regular income from an annuity or other investments makes life more comfortable. And having the equity in hand to purchase a suitable place to live is important. As an American, you can't just walk into a French bank and get a mortgage. But if you figure out your housing at a reasonable cost, the rest comes fairly easily.

We eat foods that are in season and locally produced, not a hardship since growing seasons are long around the Med, including in nearby North Africa just a ferry ride away. And the food is grown for flavor. I don't know if we serve the best carrots that you've ever tasted, but we have had visitors who have said so. If you're an omnivore like me, in addition to veggies that taste like veggies, look for a village butcher who locally sources his meats. But beware the beef. Local beef is often grass fed and chewy, nearly game meat. 

Electricity can be expensive, sufficiently so that heat pumps are ubiquitous and it's not uncommon to see private/communal solar panels/farms. Healthcare is among the best in the world and the French single-payer system is affordable and responsive. The French spend about half as much as Americans do per capita for health care, and they live longer. It's nice not feeling as though you are profit point in a health plan's spreadsheet. 

When you add it all up including internet/phones (one-third of what I paid in the USofA before we left ten years ago) and taxes and water/sewer and gas/diesel and wine/spirits and restaurants and such, a pleasant and comfortable existence is easily doable with those two average Social Security checks that I mentioned.

YOUR EXPERIENCE MAY DIFFER

There are plenty of places in the world that provide even more affordable options for retirement living. If I read the current buzz correctly, Central and South America have replaced Mexico as the flavor of the month. And they probably are less expensive. But after research, expense became a secondary consideration for us. We knew that we could find a place that we could afford to buy where we wanted to live. And that's the point. We weren't running away from American politics. We were running towards a pleasant, adventurous retirement. 

If you are going to live in Europe, best learn the language in the country of your choice and learn it well. While it's true that just about everyone in Europe understands some basic English, requiring them to speak your language in their country does not build community. And rural life in general is not for everyone. Not exactly a hotbed for Uber Eats. Rural folks in France are nice folks, don't get me wrong. but they are not American folks. Be prepared. Businesses close on odd days and at odd times for a variety of unexpected and unforeseen reasons. You have to learn the customs. 

Renting for the long term before you buy is good advice, both in terms of France in general and your permanent landing spot in particular. We have a large house in the center of a very old town - small terrace, no garden, no garage, no pool. For each of those amenities, there's an extra few tens of thousands to pay. You have to decide what's important to you and what will be important to you ten years or more from now when the stairs are harder to climb and the garden threatens to get out of hand. All that I can do is repeat, we have not regretted our decision to move to France for one single minute.