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.

TWO MORE RESTAURANTS: GUINGUETTE LA BARRAQUITA AND CHEZ SIMONE

With Cathey's sister visiting, we've been traveling around the region, finding new places to eat. These next two restaurants are quite different from one another. In the woods along the Orb River, you'll find the Guinguette La Barraquita, next to a canoe rental and campground, as rural as it gets. On the other hand, Chez Simone sits at the end of a strip of restaurants that face the promenade along the beach in Collioure, one of the busiest tourist destinations in our region. Different locales. Different menus. But that's what makes the world go round.

GUINGUETTE LA BARRAQUITA

If you've been following along, you know that many guinguettes are temporary, seasonal. Such is the case with La Barraquita. They close for the season at the end of September. By then, the campground for kids next door will have closed down too. Perhaps the canoe rental will stay open. I wouldn't know. What I do know is that when the weather cooperates, the wide open terrace under the trees is a pleasant place to enjoy ice cream on a warm summer day. We did just that and we decided to come back in a few weeks for lunch. Unfortunately, on the day that we did return in early September, the wind came up and that terrace got uncomfortable. Not their fault. But it did cut into our enjoyment. That having been said, my guess is that we'll go back next year.

We started out with little slices of what the girls thought might be a sort of falafel made of chickpea flour. Maybe. Usually, between them, Cathey and Connie can take a bite of something and darn near create a complete ingredient list. Interesting that this one kinda stumped them. We skipped starters and went straight to the mains. Connie tried the fresh trout with aioli, side veggies, a little salad, and fries. Cathey had a huge portion of lasagna, the special of the day. Half of it came home with us. And I had 5A andouillette with creamy mustard sauce and the same sides as Connie. (For those unfamiliar, andouillette is one step above tripe, offal in a skin. 5A is the highest grade. I try andouillette once every couple of years just to confirm that I really don't like it very much.) Wine with the meal. Coffee at the end. Not expensive, not cheap.

This next part of this review is a bit tricky. The wind was such that we really were not very comfortable. Our server, attentive and concerned, offered us a change of table that might have been a bit more sheltered. On such an open terrace and in such a breeze, there didn't seem much point. How do you rate the food in such a circumstance? I'm tempted to say that all was as it should be, and it probably was, but we'll return in better weather next year to make certain. That should tell you something. We'll return. Here are some pictures. Note the chow hound. Hungry but respectful.

CHEZ SIMONE

Many years ago, we drove to Collioure. More accurately, we drove through Collioure and left without stopping. We made the mistake of arriving in the midst of the tourist season. No parking. Well, we could have parked two miles away from the shopping and restaurants and beach, but we decided not to. And we never returned. Recently, friends told us about taking the train, an hour's ride, a short walk to the center of town, and not too expensive if you catch a sale. (The French rail lines occasionally hold sales that take prices down to as low as 1€ apiece.) We decided to try it with a few friends. We're glad that we did.

One of those marvelous French beach towns, Collioure lies close to the Spanish border, so there is a touch of Catalan about the place. And the shopping isn't highest end, but it's not schlock either. But the featured attraction, for me at least, are the anchovies. Renowned for a couple of major purveyors who package and sell anchovies in every style imaginable, it's heaven for a guy like me who believes that a pizza isn't really a pizza unless it's topped with anchovies. And I don't need my anchovies on pizza. Just put 'em on a plate and give me a toothpick or a fork and I'm a happy camper. 

But I digress. Collioure. Beach town.

As is the case with most French towns on the Med, there's some sort of promenade along the water, be the water a beach or a marina. Collioure is no exception, with a broad walkway curving along the bay, a strip of restaurants with enclosed interiors up against the town wall on one side and shaded, open patios overlooking the beach on the other. The restaurant that I booked for our group of six, Chez Simone, was an exception to that rule with a rather small interior and only a couple of tables immediately out front. Be that as it may, we were pleasantly welcomed, attentively served, and thoroughly enjoyed our meal. Six of us. Six plates of tapas that came one at a time at a proper pace for us to pass one plate around before the next arrived. Plenty of food for everyone. Anchovies and charcuterie and Catalan potatoes and scallop sashimi and more. All well presented and well prepared. With a bottle of wine and other bits and bobs including a few coffees at the end, the tab came to less than 25€ per person. 

When we go back to Collioure, and we will, we'll probably try a different restaurant on general principles. But Chez Simone was a perfect introduction to culinary Collioure.

AUGUST IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE: A PERSONAL SNAPSHOT

Cooler, fresher air began filtering in during the second half of August this year, surprisingly on schedule in this climate-changing world. Drought persists in our little corner of southwest France, though. We’ve had a bit of rain lately, and the local vignerons say that it came at just the right time. I’m happy for my neighbors, many of whom make their living in one way or another off the land. Still, the water table remains well below normal and mild restrictions apply. But we’re retired. When the sky is this particular shade of blue, when there’s no noise to be heard on our terrace except the calls of two or three species of birds that nest in our rooftops, when our Siamese cats pose among the summer flowers, my heart tells me that, when we decided to spend the rest of our days in a rural French village, we made the right choice.

Make no mistake. We’re American. No matter how well that we speak the language, the French know that we are Anglo. It’s uncanny. Wearing clothes that have all been purchased locally, walking into a shop that we’ve never visited before and without saying a word, we are greeted in English. We must all be wearing an invisible sign that only the French can see. It’s not a problem, though. Often, as we practice our French on shopkeepers and tradespeople, they practice their English on us. These sometimes comical, impromptu language lessons are usually good natured, though, improving the vocabulary and grammar of both parties.

I digress. Blue sky. Birds. Yes, and sometimes a neighbor's wailing toddler. Even that poor, unhappy child adds to the feel of the place. I don’t mean to romanticize our village. It’s not special. Maybe that’s its charm. It’s just a place off the main road, without anything to attract tourists, where people live and work and send their kids to school and get together several times a year to celebrate holidays with each other. Writers like me may make it seem like Paradise, but we still have to do the dishes and the laundry, run the vacuum, and pay the electric bill.

I’m willing to bet that there are no cold calls in Paradise.

 

But I digress. Blue sky. Birds. And it being mid August, one other set of sounds begins to creep into the mix. Tractors and harvesters and bouncing trailers, empty going in one direction, filled with grapes going in the other. The vendage, the grape harvest, begins. First the whites, then the reds. Signs all along the two-lane blacktops in the region warn us. We add an extra few minutes to every car trip to compensate for being stuck behind a slow mover. And because the weather is also good for bicyclists, and because folks from the north take the month of August off, as the French do, and caravan to the neighborhood, the simple act of going out shopping can turn into an obstacle course. I used to be frustrated, back when I was new to the region, newly retired, and in a hurry. Not any more. Once you settle into the pace of rural life in the south, you wonder why you were ever inclined to hurry anywhere for any reason. I have informed Cathey that if I ever fail to notice the beauty of Occitanie, even while driving, she should just shoot me.

Another digression. Can't be helped. Birds. The swifts have gone, continuing their epic, migratory loop. We celebrate their arrival every spring and wish them God speed every August. Eating machines with the zoomies, dive bombing and swooping in raucous packs, eating bushels of insects that would otherwise be eating us. And kestrels and house martins and hoopoes and pidgins perching on the gutters and pooping on the sidewalks below.

 

Once again, I have digressed. Blue sky. Birds. Sunlight that seems to emanate from the landscape rather than reflecting off it. The Impressionists lived here and painted here for a reason. I don’t paint, but I can understand why. It’s August in the south of France. Nothing quite like it.

COST OF ENERGY IN FRANCE AND BITS AND BOBS IN BRIEF: #5 AND LAST OF A SERIES

 

* Although France depends more on nuclear power than about any other European country, that has not translated into cheap rates. And the rates have been climbing. In 2023, we used 29% less electricity that we did the previous year, but the bill was only 5% lower. So far this year we've used 10% less than last year, but our bill is 10% higher. Last year, my total bill was just over 2,560USD. This year, our first six months will run just over 1,500USD. So yes. The cost of electricity in France can be painful. If I had to say it. we are wasteful. If it comes to it, I can identify ways to economize. It's getting to be time that we'll have to.

* Another cost of living in France that can be painful is fueling the family car. We own a used Renault diesel. I like Renault because they are still going racing. I like diesel because the motors last longer and the fuel is cheaper. But because France has to import all of its oil, it ain't very cheap at all. When we arrived, I was paying the equivalent of about 5.40USD per gallon. Today, I'm paying 6.80USD. I get 42 MPG, but it's still a hit to the wallet. And France takes climate change seriously. That means that the sale of diesel cars is being phased out and that diesel cars are prohibited from certain cities during bad air days, certain downtowns permanently. But for now, I'm keeping the Renault.

* We heat and cool with a heat pump, so our heating is covered in the electric bill. But we supplement with a wood-fueled fireplace insert. As the cost of electricity and fuel oil has risen, so has firewood. It takes about one cord of firewood to take me through the winter. In the past three years, the price has increased by about a third. I expect that when I order my next cord in a few months, I will pay over 400USD.

* Like everything else, the cost of water has increased, not least because we have been experiencing a lengthy drought, so the water tables are low. And water is essential to the main crop locally, grapes for winemaking . We're paying about 90USD per month for water/sewer, up about 30% over the last couple of years.

* We pay about 60USD monthly for our landline, two cell phones, and 4G wifi. Free calls to the USof A on the landline, but we are more likely to FaceTime or WhatsApp than phone. Just enough data to get by because neither of us are screenheads, particularly when we are out of the house. Fiber was installed throughout the village last year and we signed up. 5G and more data would run us an extra 25USD monthly. We passed on that.

As you can tell if you have been following this series, I have not attempted to present a detailed, all inclusive budget. Just snapshots of the sorts of things that I think might interest folks. Specific questions? I would be happy to answer in the comment section below.

A TASTE OF LOCAL CULTURAL EVENTS: COST OF LIVING IN FRANCE #4

In the USofA, we lived in the Allentown-Bethlehem-Easton metropolitan area. The State Theater in Easton brought in class acts like Preservation Hall Jazz Band, The Beach Boys and Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull. The century-old, award-winning Bach Choir of Bethlehem is known worldwide. Allentown Symphony Hall supports an orchestra of reasonable repute. Local universities provide an impressive array of concert opportunities. And tiny Godfrey Daniels Coffee House in Bethlehem has hosted artists from Tom Paxton and Townes Van Zandt to John Sebastian and Peter Tork to James Cotton and Odetta in a venue barely seating 100 folkies, 

But we were going to live in the rural, politically very conservative south of France. We knew that big cities were not that far away. And sure enough. ZZ Top, The Rolling Stones and Bruce Springsteen have all recently toured within a drive of two or three hours. to Barcelona and Marseilles or Toulouse. The ticket prices are as you would expect, a couple of hundred USD and up. Same for the opera in Paris - 200USD for a world-class performance of Tosca. Would we have to travel that far just to hear less expensive sounds of music? We quickly learned otherwise. 

Cases in point:

Built about 900 years ago, nestled in woods and fields well off any main road, Chapelle Saint-Germain hosts an annual summer concert series. This year, beginning in July and spaced two or three weeks apart through early September, five concerts are on tap in the small Roman chapel with a dirt floor and about 100 mismatched lawn chairs. Programs range from Bach sonatas presented by the Baroque Ensemble of Toulouse, 15 artists when at full strength, to the Ensemble L'Archerona string trio plus soprano presenting sonatas from the less well-known 17th Century German composer Johann Michael Nicolai. Tickets run about 17.50USD per performance and there's a free tasting of wines from the domain on which the chapel sits.

At the other end of the scale, Catalan conductor/composer/instrumentalist Jordi Savall helms a concert series in the magnificent Cistercian Abbey Fontfroid not far from us. A Chevalier of the French Legion of Honor, a UNESCO Artist for Peace, and a Grammy winner, Savall specializes in Early Music but has presented snippets of world music and blues as components of his annual five-night series. Tickets for one evening of this one-of-a-kind series are running between 50 and 60USD this year.

But I don't want to leave you with the impression that the only music available to us locally in our little corner of France was composed hundreds of years ago. Down the road, in a concert series scheduled for the courtyard of the abbey in Saint Chinian, French sisters will present modern and traditional Celtic music. (Celtic influence in Europe ranges from southern Spain to Scandinavia.) Pianist Marc Olivier Poingt, who has collaborated with the likes of Lee Ritenour (American jazz), Omar Sosa (Cuban jazz) and Gilberto Gil (Brazilian jazz), will play solo. And the Duo Yakaira will lend their piano and accordion to Argentinian tango. Tickets for the series run from 20USD to a suggested minimum contribution of 8USD.

But I don't want to leave you with the impression that the only places to hear music locally are churches. While it's true that churches that are centuries old are particularly satisfactory venues for all sorts of music due to having been designed before the age of electronic amplification, they are not the only concert venues. We've heard New Orleans jazz performed by local French musicians on a boat moored in a canal down the road (free with a food order), Latin jazz played by a skilled combo from Toulouse while nestled among tanks of fermenting juice in a local winery (11USD donation suggested), a bad jazz trio performing on a stage next to a burger joint in a campground on the beautiful Gorge d'Heric (free with food order), and have heard various members of The Gypsy Kings perform twice, once on the lawn of a local chateau (free) and once during a fundraiser in the next town's community room (27.50USD). If you didn't know, The Gypsy Kings are French and the extended family comes from the area of Montpelier, about an hour away.

But I don’t want to leave you with the impression that the only cultural outings are music concerts. The cultural arm of regional government also supports children’s shows, magicians, comedians, acrobats, plays and readings. Of course, most is in French, so you will miss nuance if you are not fully fluent. But like reading the newspaper, listening to radio or watching television, exposing yourself to the language in multiple contexts enhances one’s ability to speak and understand your new language.

And I haven’t even mentioned the winery that hosted Nina Simone’s daughter Lisa or the little seaside music festival about an hour away that often has Sting on the bill.

So...

There are cultural opportunities aplenty. All genres. All prices. Locally and in the cities. Never fear. Even in the relative sticks where we live, the French, like Grace Slick, urge you to feed your head.

RESTAURANTS IN FRANCE: COST OF LIVING - PART 3

One of the great joys of living in France is the simple fact that the French take their food so seriously. I'm not talking only about the highbrow, structured craziness of the Michelin Guide and its star system. There's no doubt that folks looking for a Michelin star or two are serious about food. I'm talking about the local pub that serves lunch to workmen on a weekday as well, the neighborhood restaurant that families visit for a dinner out on a Saturday night. The one thing that they have in common is that, if they don't serve quality ingredients, well-prepared and well-presented, they simply won't last. I don't know if the statistics on the survival of new restaurants are as dire as they are in the USofA. But the restaurants that I enjoy and have enjoyed during my ten-year residence in the region have exhibited remarkable staying power. And those that have left me meh, haven't.

Let's start at the bottom and work our way up.

FAST FOOD

In less than a half hour, I can have me a Big Mac or a Whopper right here in France. Seriously. They look like and they taste like they do in the States. They might actually cost a bit less given the current strength of the dollar against the euro. Not that I'm a regular visitor. We stop at BK maybe once a year if we're out shopping and hungry. I can't abide Mickey D's except for the fries. I've had maybe two batches in ten years. There’s a KFC not far away, too. But I have to say that, having tried a bucket once, I’m not going back. I’m particular about my fried chicken, I can abide KFC in the States, but the French version just didn’t cut it.

Of course the French have their own version of fast food. There's a thing that the French call a taco. It's never seen a tortilla, though. A panini, really. Bread with stuffing. But they call it a taco. I may try one out of desperation if the opportunity presents, but I won't go out of my way. And there are cafeterias and buffets and burger joints in shopping centers and malls and on the highways and they are what they are. 

I've actually visited a couple of burger joints that are worth a second shot. A good burger is, after all, a good burger. Count yourself lucky if you've fond one. The problem is usually the bun. The French don't generally do soft, squishy, white bread buns. Most often, you get a sort of brioche bun that falls apart as soon as you put pressure on it.

Lots of pizza places, mostly inedible. The thin, crispy crusts amount to what I call crackers with toppings. On the other hand, Pizze di Rosa on St. Chinian serves pizza with interesting toppings, with Italian beer, and with a chewy crust to die for. We visit every month or so.

BAR FOOD

Most villages that are more than hamlets support some sort of watering hole, a place to go to at the very least enjoy a pastis after work...or first thing in the morning. It's 5pm somewhere. The best of them serve food, and we are fortunate to have two pretty good exemplars close by, one right in town.

Our Bar 40 serves lunch Monday through Friday and dinner Friday and Saturday night. The lunch menu changes every day and features a starter, a main dish and dessert. Add a glass of wine and pay a total of 20USD more or less. Starters are usually a salad that's a plateful and interestingly constructed or a charcuterie plate. Recent mains have included stir-fried duck, slow cooked lamb, beef stew, chicken stew, and beef tartare. Seafood every Friday. Ice cream or a cheese plate or a dessert of the day to finish. The wine comes from just down the road. What's not to like? 

Dinner on Friday and Saturday nights can be ordered from a menu that includes specialty burgers,  steaks, grilled and fried bits and bobs, and a special or two. Those sorts of menus in that sort of place can run from 18USD to 25USD per person for lunch and 20 to 30USD for dinner including a bottle of local wine. The quality and variety does vary from shockingly good to just average. Never inedible. Well, almost never. Once or twice in ten years.

HIGHWAY/NEIGHBORHOOD RESTAURANTS

Highway rest stops aside, there's a class of French restaurant called a relais. Recently, it seems to have become chic to name an upscale restaurant a relais, but that's not the original meaning. They were and are truck stops on back roads, roads that used to be main roads before the expressway. Mostly in smaller roadside villages, they are known for serving simple, inexpensive meals. Le Relais Bleu in Capestang, the next village over, is a bar/hotel/restaurant on the main road that runs through the south side of town. The website features two-course specials as low as 15USD. And for some reason, the sign out front makes certain that you know when couscous is on the menu.

At the same time, within several blocks of that main road back into town, you can find a dozen restaurants in Capestang, some new, some around when we arrived ten years ago. A restaurant featuring, but not limited to, wood-fire pizza. A restaurant advertising home cooking that folks say really isn't. Seafood and grilled meat and a place for dinner that you really should dress up for. All with distinct personalities and peculiarities.

In other words, in a small village of 3,500 souls, you can find a restaurant serving pretty much whatever you are in the mood to be eating. Keep in mind though, Capestang is on the Canal du Midi and is a popular vacation-home spot and tourist destination for boaters. That creates a little extra choice...and a little extra price. Still, an enjoyable, multi-course lunch generally comes in under 30 - 35USD per person with a glass of wine. Dinner, including a bottle, more like 40 - 50USD and up.

A STEP UP

We always have a restaurant or two that we save for special occasions, not necessarily a favorite or the most creative, but the one that can guarantee a satisfactory, relatively upscale dining experience at a reasonable price. In our neck of the woods, that could mean Auberge de la Croisade. With views over the Canal du Midi and an outdoor terrace, a glass-enclosed sun porch, and a well-appointed interior dining room, many friends celebrate birthdays and anniversaries there. Quality slipped a while back, but a new chef redeemed the restaurant's reputation. A three-course dinner menu starts at about 40USD per person plus drinks. More extensive tasting formulas and choosing from the menu is also possible.

Another favorite, Le Chat Qui Peche features a dinner menu composed mostly of hefty tapas, plates that feature interesting tastes meant to be combined to form a meal or shared around the table. With drinks, it's easy to spend 50USD per person. Always satisfactory mouth-tingling tidbits.

EXPERIENCES

And then there are the special places, not meant for everyone, even some of your friends. Our special place is the Auberge de Madale, about an hour's drive north up in the hills. Chef/Owner Stefan puts out a fixed price, fixed menu, five course lunch and dinner with wine included for about 50USD per person. Worth twice as much and indeed, you will pay twice that much for a similar meal in many places. Reservations only. The menu changes every two weeks and is posted on the internet. We're headed there next week. All of the below and more during three amazing hours of culinary delight:

Pork consomme with fresh herbs and asparagus tempura,

Pea and shallot tart with wild garlic sorbet,

Trout cannelloni,

Roasted duck breast,

Black Forest chocolate with cherries and kirsch,

Coffee and a homemade marshmallow,

 

Not everyone finds a medley like that attractive. Too fussy, one table mate said.  We don't find it so. Tasting menus are just that, diverse tastes and textures presented together, sometimes on the same plate. And did you notice? Wild garlic sorbet? You find it hard to believe that would work? Let me tell you. I thought the same about cauliflower sorbet. It worked.

THE REST

Asian Indian restaurants and Thai food trucks and and a place where servers wearing Levis and lumberjack flannels weave around statues of cowboys and Indians. Crepes can be filled with whatever you can imagine - savory and sweet. Chinese buffet? Check. Kebab joints? Check. Farms that raise the chickens that they roast on a spit in the fireplace, ten at a time? Check.

Mediterranean seafood deserves its own page if that's your sweet spot. Oysters and shrimp and mussels and clams and all sorts of little shelled creatures unfortunate enough to taste good to those willing to dig them out. Not my thing, though. My thing is grilled meat, Spain is just down the road, and the lamb chops are perfection, time after time..  

IN SUM

If eating is your thing, France is your place.

COST OF LIVING IN FRANCE: PART 2 - GROCERIES

 

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

It's France that we are talking about, after all. That I put HOUSING and TRANSPORTATION ahead of FOOD may seem evidence of mistaken priorities, but I assure you that I have a full appreciation of the various forms and flavors of cuisine that I have enjoyed here. Cathey is a talented multi-cultural cook with a well-stocked pantry. Even with the sacrifice of piles of cookbooks and magazines left behind during our move across the Pond, her bookcase today in the pantry behind the kitchen grows and overflows, And we dine at the houses of friends who are equally talented in the kitchen. Everyone has access to fresh ingredients, mostly sourced locally. When we dine out, we have been here long enough to know where to find good bar food, comfortable mid-range restaurants, fine dining, and unique experiences. Let's see if I can make it all sound as good as it really is.

I don't mean to come across as starry eyed, though. Life ain't all strawberries and champagne. (I knew that was bad wording as soon as I typed it. It's strawberry season, for one. French strawberries are as sweet as candy and available at peak for a very short time. Like right now. And the wine...) Anyway, below you will find aspects of grocery shopping in France that are less than ideal. We'll start with that and move on from there.

GROCERY SHOPPING

Shopping for groceries in France is the same as in the States, except when it's different. No fresh corn tortillas. Nearly every supermarket carries that El Paso brand stuff and people have said that they have dined in authentic Tex-Mex restaurants in the region. Maybe so, but they don't buy their corn tortillas at the super. Karo Syrup requires a substitute unless your sister brings a jug in her suitcase...like she brings the tortillas. Every supermarket has a bakery, but none of them bake bagels. There are shops that say that they bake bagels but they don't even make an approximation of a bagel. Just toroidal-shaped brioche.

The point is that there are specific food items that are just not available, or are only available in certain places under certain circumstances. That having been said, there are no really vital dietary components missing from the shelves and for those that are hard to find, there are workarounds.

Meanwhile, your grocery shopping choices here in the south of France are practically limitless given that our village is within 25 minutes from the urban center of one city of about 50,000 and a second of 75,000. You'll find hypermarkets, supermarkets, specialty markets, village shops, butcher shops, bakeries, ethnic grocers, farmers markets, roadside stands and more. Take your pick. Get panko at the Asia Market, pita in the Arab quarter (if you don't make it at home), and fresh spring rolls from the food truck in the Sunday market.

And remember, the French demand information. Is the product organic? What's the country of origin? What's the price per kilo? Stuff that you'd like to know but that's not readily available in the USofA.

During COVID, there were folks who never left our little village. We have a bakery, two butcher shops, a convenience-sized store that's affiliated with one of the supers, and a tabac that sells fruits and veggies, milk and other essentials. (Tabacs are stores licensed to sell tobacco and cigarettes. They usually sell newspapers and magazines., postcards, and sundry other stuff at the whim of the owners.) So we are fairly well self sufficient. But let's get down to prices.

It's hard for me, ten years out from our move, to have a true understanding of the difference in the cost of groceries between the USofA and France. Cathey's sister Connie lives in Houston and provides commentary, though. There's a chain here called Grand Frais that specializes in fresh fruits and veggies, high-end meats and cheeses and seafood, as well as imported specialty items. Connie says that a bag of veggies that might cost the equivalent of 30 or 40USD in Grand Frais would come to well over 100USD in Houston.

The baguette at the bakery 100 yards away, fresh baked and warm, costs a few pennies over 1.00USD. Leaf lettuce, dense and full, might be 1.25USD a head, less in season. And here might be a good time to talk about seasonal eating. The Mediterranean climate allows for a long growing season. We are in easy reach of the gardens of Spain and Italy and Greece. And North Africa is a quick ferry ride away. So while we are particularly fond of those items that are in season outside our back door, most fruits and veggies are in season somewhere close by, not a continent away, and grown for their taste and not their ability to survive shipping. 

From the weekly circulars of a couple of our favorite supers:

Tomatoes - 1.50USD/pound

Yellow Onions - .35USD/pound 

Cucumbers - .50USD/pound

Shallots - 1.00USD/pound

Boneless Pork Loin - 3.00USD/pound

Chicken Thighs - 1.75USD/pound

We're not impressed with French beef, grass fed and almost game meat. Not marbled at all. I just purchased a pound of ground beef from the local butcher, put in the hopper in front of me, and had to request that fat be added. The best beef is imported from the UK or Ireland, readily available and not terribly expensive in comparison to the USofA. On the other hand, lamb and pork are to die for and cheap as chips in comparison.

Other stuff that you buy at a supermarket might be a tad more expensive, but not always comparable in quality, although strides are being made. We no longer require travelers to bring us zip-lock bags. The plastic wrap has improved considerably. But aluminum foil still needs work.

Of course, the grocery stores sell beer and wine, but we usually buy our wine direct from the producers. We seldom pay more than 8.00USD for a bottle of fine sipping rosé, 10.00USD for fine whites, 15.00USD for a serious red. Beer is beer from 3.00USD for local commercial brew to 8.00USD for a good craft beer. I generally don't drink alcohol during the day, depending on 2 liter bottles of low-glucide fruit drink at 1.00USD a bottle.

Enough. You get the picture. Yes, there are street markets that generally have fresher, more locally produced fare - meats, cheeses, fruits and veggies, baked goods and the like. Not always cheaper, though. All in all, I stand by my earlier statement: A couple can retire comfortably in France on two average Social Security Retirement checks.

Next in the series: RESTAURANTS AND CULTURE

SPRING IN FRANCE, STEVE MARTIN, DICKEY BETTS AND MORE - #20

SPRING

It's spring in France and the sky is that special shade of blue. Close your eyes. Say that quietly to yourself. It's spring in France...in the southwest of France...not far from the Mediterranean and the Pyrenees and Spain. The color of the sky? Special. Indescribable. Cobalt doesn’t quite catch it. And with the way that sunlight pops off the landscape directly to your soul, it's no wonder that the Impressionists painted here.

Where else would I rather be? To use a phrase that makes my brain itch every time I hear people use it, I'm in my happy place. And because folks are traveling again now, I get to share that place. We've got a house with three spare bedrooms and it won't be enough. Three generations of family are preparing to bounce in and out. A dear old friend in the mix as well.

Have I told you the story of our first visit to the neighborhood? Recon expedition. Stayed in a traveler's hotel in a small town close by our eventual landing pad, the village of Quarante. We sat next to a pair of European couples in the breakfast room and talked about our decision to look for a little two-bedroom place somewhere in the region. We'd use the second bedroom as my office most of the time. No, they insisted, wagging their fingers. No. That won't do. Once your friends and family know that you are set and settled in the south of France, They will visit. They will all visit. Two spare bedrooms is the very minimum. You'll see.

It was good advice.

COST OF LIVING - PART 2 coming next week.

ANOTHER CONCERT STORY

Imagine that it's the early 1970s. You are attending a concert in the Great Southeast Music Emporium. (See #19) Given that the headliner is The Incredible String Band, your attitude has been thoroughly and completely chemically altered. But before that quirky, spacey folk band takes that stage, out trots the guy pictured above and yes, complete with arrow through his head. What do you think happened?

It wasn't Steve's fault that he got booed off the stage. He was just starting out. His shtick was not widely known - not really known at all. Years later, after the Smothers Brothers and SNL and the rest, he might have been welcomed with open arms. But not in Atlanta that night as an unknown. Way too unexpected for a crowd waiting to hear The Incredible String Band's The First Girl I Loved. (I just streamed the remastered version. The very essence of psychedelic folk. Take a listen.) Martin's humor was just jarring in that setting.

Oddly, I don’t remember The Incredible String Band's performance at all, but I certainly do remember Steve Martin’s disastrous few minutes. Funny that.

 

ASPARAGUS

 

It's asparagus season in the south of France. Since we enjoy eating seasonally, only those veggies and fruits that are in season in our corner of the Mediterranean make it to our table most nights. So we've been eating a lot of those tasty green spears lately. There's a farm just down the road that we visit. You can buy them by the kilo as they sort the fresh-picked ones by size. If you can't make it to the farm, the local super handles it after they've been sorted. 3 or 4USD a pound at the farm, a bit more in the stores.

 

After a year off the menu, the smell is always a surprise the first time that I pee after eating asparagus. It's the sort of thing that I notice with delight, much to Cathey's chagrin. Well, as they say, women marry men thinking that they can change them. They can't. Of course, the inverse is true as well. Men marry women thinking that they will stay the same. They don't.

 

 BIEWER TERRIER

 

Cute little thing, isn't it? New breed. Stands a few inches tall and weighs only a kilo or two. Affectionate. Loyal. And very importantly, not a yappie little thing. Lots of energy, but not a lot of yapping. New pet brought over from the Colonies by our good friends down the way. They named her Valentina. (I don't know the name of the dog in the picture, but could be Valentina's brother.) I'm a cat person, but these are dogs that I can like.

DICKEY BETTS

After meeting Cathey and spending time in the South, I learned to get into what some call Southern Rhythm and Rock. Blues-based, jazz-infused, and nothing like the Philly street-corner doo wop that I grew up with, I dove into the genre head first. One of the great regrets of my life is that, when I had the opportunity, I failed to see either Little Feat or the Allman Brothers Band live. I feel particularly stupid when, after leaving an all-night Grateful Dead concert at the Fillmore East in 1970, I looked up at the marquee, saw that the Allman Brothers were due in town and, not knowing any better, decided that I didn't need to see that Southern ricky-ticky band. I was that stupid. If it had been the booking in which they had recorded At the Fillmore, I just might have shot myself. But that night came a year later. Probably the best live recording ever produced. Even though Tom Dowd monkeyed with the solos on In Memory of Elizabeth Reed, taking Duane's from one night and Dickey's from another, it's 13 minutes of music that I listen to again and again and played more often than I should have in my radio days. 

Legend has it that, in setting the lineup for the Fillmore's final, invitation-only concert, Brian Wilson told Bill Graham that the Beach Boys wouldn't play if they didn't close the show. Graham had scheduled the Allman Brothers to close. "It's too bad that you won't be playing," Graham is purported to have said. The Beach Boys did play, but the Allmans closed.

R.I.P. Dickey.

10 YEARS OF EXPAT LIFE: COST OF LIVING PART 1

 I retired on April 1, 2014. Cathey and I boarded a plane at JFK on April 15th with four suitcases and two cats, determined to become lifetime residents of France. In the intervening 10 years, we have been back to the Colonies a total of five times - twice for me, three times for Cathey. Only for REALLY important stuff. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm American and I say so with relative ease and pride. But we've chosen to live in France. Chosen. Macron is my President.

SPOILER: Not a single regret. Not. One.

COST OF LIVING

From buying groceries to eating out, from going to concerts to partying with friends, what does it cost to live a satisfying retirement life in a small village in the rural southwest of France? You may be surprised to learn that an income equivalent to two average Social Security Retirement checks monthly is sufficient. (The average SSR check, which can be direct deposited to your French bank account, is currently just over $1,900 per person monthly.) 

Remember that legal residents in France get 70% of most of their healthcare costs either provided freely or reimbursed. (The French consider healthcare a human right. What a concept.) There might be what are called social charges to pay, a percentage of income to pay for the healthcare and other socialized services. But those charges at their very most would be a small percentage of your taxable income above a generous floor, can be offset by US taxes (which are credited against any French charges), and your Social Security Retirement income is not considered taxable income in France. 

The point of all of this is that, assuming you have a home and a car free and clear or loans that consume only a small percentage of your monthlies, and assuming the two SSR incomes, retirement life here can be rewarding. More income is better. Of course. Less is possible, but not an easy road.

Your experience may differ. Different folks live different lives.

HOUSING 

If you take the cost of healthcare off the table and if the tax burden is minimal, what's left is housing, transportation, food and entertainment. 

First, there's the problem of a bank account. There are people that I know who work entirely through their plastic from Wise (formerly TransferWise). But a bank account makes things so much easier. It's France, though. You can't get a bank account without a house and you can't get a house without a bank account. As digital as France has become (I have fiber and 5G.), it's still France. Patience and, depending on your circumstances, professional help may be required to establish a working relationship with French bureaucratic culture. But what can be done will get done eventually given unfailingly polite but insistent determination. 

If you are reading this, you have some personal interest in moving to France. My suggestion is to carefully research the region of France that most seems to suit your requirements. Must you be near snow skiing or ocean sailing? Can you stand Mediterranean summer heat in order to be free of winter frost? France spans from the Med to the Atlantic, from the Pyrenees to the Alps. It's northern tip lines up with Brussels. So finding the France that's right for you demands serious investigation. 

What to do if you are certain that you've found just the right place? A number of the websites/blogs will tell you to rent first, for some months at least, and that's not a bad idea. You may have picked a region that really doesn't suit you after all. You may have pegged region correctly but picked the wrong town. At the very least, you'll have a base from which to broaden the scope of your search.

You might also consider a foothold, a relatively inexpensive village house with just enough space to cram your stuff into until you get set and settled, looking for a more suitable landing pad. All of this assumes that you have sold your house in the States that is going to be your nut. Or that you have been prudent in the markets and come to France with a bit of cash in hand. Either way, a foothold gives you more than a base. In some small hamlets, you may be welcomed almost as a celebrity. Or shunned. In some tourist towns, you may become part of a thriving expat community. Or become part of what your neighbors see as a growing problem. Either way, home ownership, particularly in a small village, makes you a part of a community in a way that being a renter does not.

A small foothold with 100 square meters of living space or more that doesn't require extensive remodeling, with a reasonably-sized terrace or courtyard, and with two or three bedrooms and functionally modern plumbing and electrics can cost you 125,000USD, less in the deep sticks far from shopping and services. Count on 175,000USD more or less in our neck of the semi-rural woods when all of the fees are paid and if you want a garage and serious outdoor space. In the most popular places like Aix-en-Provence or Paris, mortgage your firstborn child. (Actually, compared to similarly popular American locations, even Aix is relatively inexpensive. But if you look at what's available within a couple of hour's drive, it's off the charts.) If you choose to jump directly into the fire, a larger house that has a mature garden, a good-sized garage/workshop, a small pool, and is otherwise good to go will sell for 300,000USD if you are lucky and go up quickly from there. In our neck of the woods. At least. Today.

The seller pays the real estate agent, the buyer pays the notaire - the French equivalent in France of a property lawyer and notary. Add anywhere from 5% to 10% depending.

We were fortunate in our house hunting. We found a house that was a bit more than a foothold that met all of our requirements except one that we didn't anticipate - the ravages of old age. Well, maybe that's a bit harsh. The house served us very well for eight years. But the stairways were narrow, steep and winding. Very common in a small, village house in France. What had been a snap for us when we moved in became a burden on our older, less well-lubricated knees later on.

Because we had eight years in the village and had made a surprising number of close, endearing friends, it took a while to find the right place to buy in our small, rural village of under 2,000 souls that would be in our price range and had the proper interior and exterior spaces. Oddly enough, we found just such a house 75 yards from our old place, downhill to make wheelbarrow moving possible...with professional muscle moving the really heavy stuff for us at the end. 

You never know what's beyond the facade of a village house. Often courtyards and terraces are not visible from the street and can be extensive. Look for a side gate wide enough to accommodate a tractor and there's no telling the size of the yard and outbuildings that might be behind that gate.

I have left out our trials finding a bridge loan/mortgage/home loan. Story for another day. Banking is another post entirely.

Your experience may differ. Different folks live different lives.

TRANSPORTATION

France mimics the rest of Europe in that public transportation at almost all levels is safe, reliable and affordable. Ride sharing is popular even over long distances. Check out BlaBla Car. Ride sharing on steroids. Busses and trains go pretty much everywhere and, within about an hour of our house, there are four stations that connect to about all of the country's routes. Short-hop airlines compete with the trains in pricing and time. Yes, you can buy cheap train tickets, There are sales and promotions. But if you are not flexible and need to go from here to there on a schedule, train tickets can be surprisingly expensive. Small airports like the one closest to us are under siege with the government subsidy running to 1,500USD per passenger. But two internationally connected airports are about an hour away and major international hubs are within about three hours.

And yes, the French hitchhike.

But mostly, when we go anywhere, we go by car. And that is getting interesting. More and more cities are banning smelly old diesels. I drive a smelly old diesel. Yes, Ginger is reliable and economical. (I name my cars. Ginger is a bright red station wagon.) But yes, Ginger is old and Ginger is smelly. The way that things are going, in a few years we will have to go gas, hybrid  or electric. Today, 5,000USD to start for a decent older used car. 10,000USD for something newer and more reliable. Some folks lease. New car prices are new car prices. Whatever, you have to factor that cost into your budget. 

I love my old diesel. Ginger is comfortable, reliable, and gets the equivalent of 42 MPG. Given the price of fuel in France, diesel costing the equivalent of 5.67USD or so, you need that level of fuel efficiency.

Your experience may differ. Different folks live different lives.

FOOD, BANKING AND MORE

That's PART 2. Internet. Grocery stores. Restaurants. Concerts. Wine! Lots to talk about.

GRAZIE TRATTORIA - MEZE RESTAURANT REVIEW

We're not water people, not swimmers in pools or in the Mediterranean. But some of our favorite restaurants are near the Med or on the Canal du Midi. Particularly when spring comes, before July and August when the French decamp to the shore en masse, we like to head for the coast for lunch on a sunny day, stop for a sip and a nibble, and watch the world pass by. On a recent Saturday, breezy but with clouds making way for a bright sun, we stopped at Grazie in Meze for lunch.

Grazie is a smallish space with a glassed-in verandah and a few tables inside across from the bar. Calls itself a trattoria. Due to the cool, breezy weather, the outside tables and chairs that could be set up across the pedestrian walkway next to the boats moored in the marina were stacked and unused.

The veranda filled quickly, about ten tables of from two to six diners including a couple of noisy children. No, I'm not a grumpy old man who can't stand children in a restaurant. But combined with a packed, happily gabbing crowd in a relatively small space, it became difficult to converse with my soft-spoken table mates. 

The servers were pleasant and attentive without being intrusive, explaining both a printed off-menu special and a chalkboard special. The main menu was a bit thin. Limited choices. Cathey chose the poulpe, Eveline the fish special - mullet, and I had a pizza. All arrived in reasonable time taking into account that it's France and we're retired so don't check our watches. And every dish was well presented, well portioned, and properly prepared. Cathey worked her way through more food than she usually does, a definite indication of a quality meal. Likewise, Eveline finished her plate. My anchovy pizza had a decent crust, not the typical French toppings-on-a-cracker, and was covered with caper berries.

The desserts mirrored the quality of the mains. Tiramisu for Eveline (Grandma's recipe, so the menu said.) and a medley of citrus tastes including limoncello for me, both fine finishes. 

With a bottle of wine, no coffees, about 35€ apiece. 

I have clearly picked a nit or two. I did enjoy the meal. But I'm compelled to say that Grazie probably won't join our regular rotation. Not enough choices. Not enough elbow room. But give it a try. You might very well feel differently.

JOE WALSH, RONSTADT, MEEZERS AND MORE - #19

MEMORABLE CONCERTS - PART 1

I first saw Linda Ronstadt in concert in about 1973 in a little venue in Atlanta called the Great Southeast Music Emporium. I have since seen on various websites that the capacity of the venue was about 540 people. It seemed smaller, a converted shopping center movie house that sold beer by the bucket. Literally. Little metal buckets. Search the name and read about the place. By the time that Cathey and I went to concerts there, some of the acts that they were booking went on to the big time. One such was Linda Ronstadt.

Imagine seeing Linda up close and personal in such a small venue, blue jeans and bare feet and with a band that would become the Eagles backing her. Imagine that it's the early show and she's just hit town and she's kinda tired so it's mostly ballads. That voice just a few feet away. Singing love and loss right at you. And imagine, when the show is over, that management comes out and says that, since the second show wasn't sold out, you could stay if you wanted. Yes, there was a time that Linda couldn't sell 1,000 tickets over two shows. And we were there.

I'll talk about other shows at that venue in subsequent posts. But right now I want to talk about pre-Eagles Joe Walsh and another venue worth mentioning.

St. John Terrell's Lambertville Music Circus was a one-off when it opened, a bowl in the Greek style serving up theater-in-the-round under a circus tent. Novel idea. Fifteen minutes from my house. The history of the Music Circus is littered with famous names of the 50s and 60s. The list of jazz artists who performed there reads like a Hall of Fame lineup - Basie and Brubeck, Ellington and Fountain. I saw Rita Moreno in West Side Story there. And I saw my first true guitar hero there - Joe Walsh.

It's difficult to describe a concert like the one that I attended at the Music Circus 60 years ago. Saying that the  James Gang was a power trio doesn't do the term justice. Maybe the James Gang actually defines the term. (Picture of Power Trio in the OED = The James Gang) Joe started the show alone, offstage, making sounds that I had never heard come from a guitar live before. The show hit me right between the eyes. It became my music then. It's my music now. I just can't help it.

    

MEEZERS

There's something about Siamese cats. I can't explain it. If you're not a cat person, you won't get it. Even if you are a cat person, the allure of Meezers may not get to you in the same way that it gets to those of us who have been captivated by the breed. Siamese...Meezers...are talkative to a fault. They are bossy and demanding. They are too curious for their own good, smart enough to open any cupboard door and find the tasty treat or chicken bone hidden therein. But at the same time, Meezers are beautiful to look at, regal in bearing, and loyal to their chosen human. One of the great mysteries of life...

MACRON IS MY PRESIDENT

We moved to France permanently in 2014. We have returned to the USofA on the average of once every five years. Our rural, quiet French village of Quarante sits in the middle of a relatively active tourist region but is not significantly picturesque or sufficiently close to a popular tourist destination to be on anyone's radar. The road to Quarante leads to Quarante and nowhere else.

It's true that Quarante is on one of the routes of the Santiago de Compostelle, the long road purportedly followed by Saint John as he brought Christianity to Iberia from Rome. And occasionally, pilgrims carrying a heavy backpack with an identifying seashell attached to the back will find their way to our village bar for a rest and a drink of water or something more bracing as they follow that ancient route. But they are few and far between. No, this is France Profund, Deep France as Cathey likes to say, a generation behind the rest of the country, the rest of the world.

And so we watch the goings on in the USofA with a certain amount of detachment. We are concerned for the future as it might affect family and friends, as it might affect the rest of the world. But deep down inside, if we are being honest, we've left the USofA behind. Thoughts and prayers...

Macron is my President.