ELECTRICITY IN FRANCE: IT'S DIFFERENT

Moving across the Pond from the United States to France is easier than it sounds. And harder.

Language has to be the most difficult adjustment for those not already fluent. (Speaking English slowly and loudly really doesn't work. Trust me.) You need a basic vocabulary and an ability to speak to the present, the past, and the future. It's true that most of the French in the region have some English given that it's taught in the schools and that Brits have settled here in considerable numbers. But I didn't come here to make France more like America. They already have Kentucky Fried and Subway. I came here to learn. That includes the language.

Once you have the language basics in hand, you can conduct the business of day-to-day life surprisingly easily. I do all of my banking online as I do most of my bill paying. Most every retail establishment, including the post office, accepts credit cards. At restaurants, they can even come to your table with a little wireless device that reads your chip. We do keep a little cash on hand for our fresh bread at the bakery every other day and for Fanny, the local farmer who sets up her produce stand in the church square twice a week. We get our cash from the ATM in the next village over. But otherwise, our commerce is all electronic and works as well as it should.

Which brings us, boys and girls, to our lesson for today. Finally. Electricity. It's different.

If you've traveled at all, you know that electrical service is fundamentally different in Europe. Not only are French outlets configured differently than American outlets, but French outlets deliver 230 volts as opposed to the 120 volt American supply. Thus most American appliances will not work in France, will in fact overload dangerously. Exceptions can include such items as the power supplies for laptops and chargers for cell phones and tablets. Always check to make certain. Find the small print on the device or its power supply. American chargers that will accept the more robust European current will have something like Input: AC 100V - 240V printed on them.  With the use of an adaptor, not a voltage converter that actually steps down the voltage but a device that simply configures the plug so that it will fit into the wall socket, you can use that device in France. And keep in mind, if you are going to travel to other European countries, that French sockets are configured differently from those of the rest of Europe. One size does not fit all.

In addition to a supply of adaptors for my laptop and those of our chargers that would accept French current, we brought a high-end voltage converter to France with us. Somewhat smaller than a bread box and heavy as lead, the converter steps the 230 volt supply down to 110 volts, allowing my wife Cathey to plug in various of her American kitchen appliances that she would otherwise have had to replace. The cost of replacing her KitchenAid alone would have been several times the cost of the converter.

So, we're set to go. We have an account with EDF, the major supplier that serves Quarante. I'd prefer a local co-op like we had in Cazouls, but we'll see. I pay EDF an estimated bill monthly, drawn automatically from our bank account and, in another six months or so they'll read the meter again and we'll settle up. We haven't had problems until recently. Lights, washer, dryer, fans in the summer, all OK. So far, so good.

But...

When we turned on our oil-filled electric radiators in mid December, the main breaker tripped and we lost all power. Here's the deal. Every room in the house has its own individually thermostatically controlled radiator with some fancy programming available. You can turn the radiator on or off manually and you can set the temperature up or down manually. Or you can use one of four 'Eco'
presets: heat for a couple of hours in the morning, heat for a few hours in the evening, heat both morning and evening but not in the middle of the day or at night, or heat right through from morning to evening but not at night. Of course, none of that matters if you can't turn on multiple radiators at once without tripping the main. We can't turn on multiple radiators at once without tripping the main.

I checked our EDF contract. In France, you don't simply pay for the electricity that you use. First, you decide how much electricity that you think that you will draw and pay an annual fee for the right to draw that much. Without going into too much detail, I discovered that our contract was for less than would be recommended for a house of our size with electric heat, hot water, and laundry. So when we turned on the radiators in several rooms at once, the main breaker determined that we were drawing more electricity than we were entitled to draw and shut us down.

After determining through trial and error just how much electricity we could afford to pull and therefore how warm we could be without tripping the main, I went to the EDF office in Narbonne and contracted for a higher level of draw. By appointment two days later, an EDF worker came by the house. He inspected our equipment and decided that the outside feed and the main breaker leading into our relatively new interior breaker panel wouldn't handle the extra power. They would need to be replaced. There would be an extra cost. He took pictures with his phone and promised to get back to us. This was on December 17th. I asked if we might have the better service by Christmas. He gave a very French shrug of the shoulders and noted that the holidays were coming up. Who could tell?

Three weeks later, well past the holidays, having heard not a peep from EDF, I called EDF's English language customer service help line. Even though my French is reasonably sufficient for face-to-face conversations, telephone conversations are difficult. I can't see the other person. I can't use my hands. I don't seem to have time enough to think of what I want to say. So I called the English language number. I talked to a nice, thoroughly unhelpful fellow. Unfortunately, technical services is different from customer service. And this particular guy in customer service didn't particularly want to talk to the folks at technical services. And the folks at technical services don't speak English.  So back I went to the Narbonne office.

There, the young lady was most helpful. Once she understood the depth (shallowness) of my language skills, she promised me that she would speak doucement (slowly). She pulled up our file. She called technical services. She waited patiently on hold. She were connected. She explained our problem. She took notes. I picked up a bit of what she was saying. They knew who we were. They had our file. They would call us at home after lunch. They would speak doucement.

We went home and waited for the call that never came. Instead, Miles called. You remember Miles. Franglo Fix It. He had set up our EDF account for us before we arrived and they still had his phone number attached to the account. Apparently, the call from the Narbonne office had stirred up the ant hill. Check your email, Mies said. And I did. And there was the devis (estimate) from the technical guys at EDF. 514.14 Euros. Print, sign and mail back the contract. Pay by credit card online. So I did and I did.

I'm a little concerned that I wasn't provided with a receipt for my online payment. And we haven't been given a date for the work to be done. So stay tuned. I'm going to post this and update later.

Electricity certainly is difference in France.

EDIT: The guys from EDF have come and gone. No nonsense, hardworking guys who came to do a job and did the job. Installed a new branch feed and remote meter reader outside and a new meter, breaker, and other bits inside. Made a mess and were good about cleaning it up. I'll need to build a cabinet to hide the workings but I was planning on doing that anyway and I'm glad that I didn't get to it before this work had to be done. All of the heaters are up and running. So far, so good. We'll see how long it will take to warm the house up to a comfortable temperature and keep it there. The only problem I can foresee is that the meter won't be read for several months. We may be in for a shock. Maybe one more edit in spring?




CAN A FLAT TAX BE A FAIR TAX? COULD BE...

One of the issues that falsely divides us in a variety of ways is the question of taxation. I'm not going to get into a critical discussion of supply side economics or the value of various incentives written into the tax code to the benefit of individuals or businesses. That way lies madness. I'm going to simply discuss how a flat tax on individual incomes can be structured to be easy and economical to enforce, progressive in its way, and equitable.

Why should this discussion divide us? If there's a cheaper and fairer way to fund our government, why shouldn't we be diligent in our exploration of it? There are three main reasons comprehensive tax reform has thus far failed to make progress. Briefly:

1. Folks at the edges of both political parties have championed a flat tax. When both Jerry Brown and Malcolm Forbes think that something is a good idea, there's gotta be a catch.

2. CPAs, lesser-credentialed tax accountants and preparers, purveyors of tax software, IRS workers, elected members of Congress on powerful committees, beneficiaries of those incentives and other goodies that have been written into the tax code over the years...all have either financial interests or positions of power to protect.

3. A flat tax is different. That means it has to be carefully explained. See below. Do you have the patience to read and understand the concept? Most don't. Sorry. Truth.

Here goes...

All income would be taxed and the definition of income would be broad and all encompassing - wages, tips, capital gains, bonuses, however it is that hedge fund managers get paid...whatever results in money in your pocket that wasn't there before. All gets reported. All gets taxed.

Now please, be patient with me. I'm going to make some assumptions and quote some statistics. Don't jump on me. For instance, I'm going to set the flat tax rate at 10%. It would probably be lower but I use 10% because that makes it easy to do the math in this sort of demonstration. I'm also going to set the poverty rate for an American family of four at $25,000. The feds actually set it a bit lower for 2014 but again, for the sake of the math...

We begin by deciding on the exclusion, that portion of income that is yours to keep in its entirety, that's not taxed. Think of it as the standard deduction in the current tax system. And let's say that we set the exclusion at 200% of the federal poverty level. Therefore, a family of four with a total income of anything up to $50,000 (twice the federal poverty rate of $25,000 for that family) will pay no taxes. Zilch. Two wage earners making $12 an hour each working full time, earning something over $40,000 total, will pay no income tax. As a percentage of total income, the effective tax rate: 0%

Now let's assume that the Mom and Dad in that family of four are social workers with a bit of seniority. They could be earning $50,000 each, making the family income $100,000. Exclude $50,000. That leaves $50,000 taxable. At 10%, the tax bill would be $5,000. As a percentage of total income, the effective tax rate: 5% (5,000/100,000 = 0.05).

Dad is an executive vice-president of a profitable local company earning a salary of $200,000. Mom is one of those $50,000 social workers, making the total family income $250,000. Exclude $50,000. That leaves $200,000 taxable. At 10%, the tax bill would be $20,000. As a percentage of total income, the effective tax rate: 8% (20,000/250,000 = 0.08).

A hedge fund manager makes $2,000,000 in 2014. Don't ask me how. His wife makes martinis. (OK. I'm a sexist pig. Roll with it.) His kids make Ecstasy in the pool house. Exclude $50,000, leaving a taxable income of $1,950,000. A 10% tax bill comes to $195,000. As a percentage of total income, the effective tax rate: 9.75% (195,000/2,000,000 = 0.0975).

Do you get the picture? It is indeed a progressive tax even though it's called a flat tax. The higher the income, the higher the taxes paid in both dollars and as a percentage of total income. Strictly limit deductions and other adjustments to taxable income. Move the exclusion as the poverty rate moves. Move the tax rate as necessary to cover the cost of government. Get rid of billions of dollars worth of tax preparation costs to the consumer annually. Slash the budget of the IRS. Figure your taxes on a postcard. What's not to like? If you understand the concept, what are the arguments against a flat tax? That it's too simple? That it's not progressive enough? What...?

Currently, about half of federal revenue comes from individual income taxes. About 10% comes from businesses taxes - down from close to 50% about 60 years ago. Lobbying pays dividends. This points out a major problem with a flat tax scenario. How do you apply a like, simplified structure to the self-employed, small businesses, and corporations? A topic for another day...




OUR FIRST FRENCH CHRISTMAS DINNER PARTY

We've been resident in France for about eight months now and I think that our French neighbors are finally convinced that we're here to stay. They're happy that a property that had been vacant for many years is now permanently occupied. And I feel as though we've been accepted into our cloistered little neighborhood that's situated between the church and the town hall on a narrow, cobbled pedestrian walkway smack dab in the middle of Quarante. Here's why. The other day as I was walking down our little alley, one of our neighbors wished me 'Bonjour' as our neighbors always do when we pass. Then, noticing the envelop that I was carrying, she asked if I was going to the post office. I was. Would I mail a letter for her, stamped and ready to go? Of course I would. Very neighborly. And not something that you would ask of a passing stranger. I was honored.

If I had been one of the many Brits in the village, I would have been honoured.

I should be studying the French language more assiduously. We've purchased Rosetta Stone and it seems as though it's a good program. But I've relied on my four years of high school French combined with one of college and a couple of more recent night school courses. Coupled with eight months of immersion, I do OK. Day to day tasks - buying our daily baguette, for instance - are accomplished easily enough. For less mundane tasks, though, I've learned to look up vocabulary first. I use Google Translate at my desk and on my tablet. If I know the correct term for the device that operates the power windows on my Citroen, I can ask the junkyard dealer for the right replacement part. (Leve-vitre, by the way. Literally: up window.) It's a good plan that's worked well. I just have to remember to use the feature that pronounces the words that I need through my speakers. Very important, as you will learn.

We've invited our friends Simon and Julia for a holiday dinner, not right on Christmas Day or New Year's Eve but during the weekend between. Cathey wants to prepare something special. The pork here is fabulous; it actually tastes like pork. So she decided she'd like to serve a marinated, roasted pork loin as the main dish. The menu will include her signature faux pate and other nibbles at the start, chestnut soup, appropriate veggies, bread pudding, cracklings, a fruity syllabub (sort of a parfait, sort of), and don't forget the homemade Christmas cookies. But the pork loin roast will be the centerpiece.

I confess that I didn't use Google. I checked out the packaged pork loins in the super. Longe de porc. Simple enough. We visited one of our two village butchers. (Can you imagine? Two old-style butcher shops in a village of 1,500 souls.) We'd used Alain on the Grand Rue at the top of the village for our Thanksgiving turkey, so we decided to give Philippe down below a shot at the loin. We dropped by a couple of weeks ahead of time.

We want a longe de porc, we said. Sufficient to serve four. The entire longe, not trimmed. (Cathey wanted to use the rind for the cracklings.)

No problem, Philippe said.

Then he started massaging his throat and indicating that we would get the whole thing. We smiled and nodded. Yes, we wanted the whole thing. But we weren't certain about the throat business. In fact, we were sufficiently nervous that after we returned home, I went up on the internet and printed out a graphic showing the various cuts of pork. I went back to the shop and showed Philippe the printout.

Those of you who are proficient in French may have figured out the problem by now. Longe is pronounced with a soft gee, like lounge. I pronounced it with a hard gee, like long. With a hard gee, the butcher assumed that I was asking for tongue: langue. I should have known. We live in the Languedoc (Language [Tongue] of the Oc), hard gee.

Well, we straightened everything out. When we arrived at his shop the day before our dinner, Philippe brought out a full loin for our inspection. We negotiated how much of it we wanted. He cut the chunk off and deboned it at out request. Cathey kept the bones. She always keeps the bones. Back at our house, we skinned off the rind, scored it in preparation for making the cracklings, and put it aside. Cathey bagged the roast with the marinade and made room in the fridge.

Next day, voila! It neither looks nor tastes like tongue. And I don't think that you get cracklins' from tongue, either.











COPS OR DEMONSTRATORS - GUNS OR BUTTER: FALSE DICHOTOMIES

We have become tribal and, in the process, become binary. Ones or Zeros. Yes or No. Pro or Con. We define each other through simple answers to complex questions. Such thinking, dividing ourselves in this way, is not in our own best interests.

That's not to say that there are no absolutes. I am not one of those who believes that being human means to think in shades of gray, that everything is relative, that there is no right or wrong, no good and no evil. I have my red lines. Red lines are healthy. They require us to think critically and make rational, informed judgements. But today I'm talking about the false dichotomies, questions that look as though they can be answered simply but that are in truth designed to force us to abandon critical thinking in favor of tribal fervor.

GUNS OR BUTTER

The Vietnam War shaped much of my geopolitical thinking. It seemed to me that it was foolhardy to think that, as the new kids on the block, Americans could do better in southeast Asia than the French, who had been in the business of colonialism for quite awhile. I have never had reason to doubt that simple analysis. Afghanistan, anyone? And today there are more hotels listed in Hanoi on the popular travel website TripAdvisor than are listed in Chicago.

At the time, when the War on Poverty was competing for funding with the Vietnam War, Guns or Butter? became a popular question to ask. It was not a new question. Eisenhower perhaps laid it out most starkly: "Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed."

Your answer marked you. Guns? Warmonger. Butter? Peacenik.

But with respect to Ike, the dichotomy is a false one. Putting aside the question of the fairness of the current tax code when it comes to funding our government and putting aside the waste/fraud/abuse in both the Pentagon and the Department of Health and Human Services when it comes to spending our tax dollars, we are a rich enough country to afford sufficient quantities of guns and butter to both defend ourselves vigorously and feed ourselves comfortably. Regardless of the current binary situation in Washington, we needn't cut the budget of the Pentagon in order to properly fund HHS. It is not a zero sum game, though game we have apparently allowed it to become in our march toward tribalism.

Our elected officials simply need to make sane judgements regarding our tax code and our spending priorities, in our decisions concerning war and peace, untainted by the influences of campaign funding and temptations of wealth and power. Simple, right?

COPS OR DEMONSTRATORS

Questions regarding our system of criminal justice are among the most emotional of the moment. Male black Americans are in statistically dangerous territory when it comes to being stopped by the police, charged with a crime, found guilty of a crime, and/or incarcerated. Such constant and contentious contact with law enforcement inevitably leads to frustration and violence on both sides. There are two factors at work here, neither of them pretty.

First, racism exists. It exists at all levels of our society. Don't argue. It does. This is one of those red lines that I talked about. Racism exists. Denying that racism exists is either racist itself or just stupid. Police and the court system are not immune.

Second, police cause crime, particularly in impoverished and segregated black communities. That's not to suggest that all police, or most or even a plurality, are criminals. Not at all. But 50 years ago, Malcolm X predicted the scenario that's being played out today. He pointed out that even then, when an incident occurred in Harlem, however minor, swarms of police responded, multiples of the number that would respond to similar incidents in other parts of the city. But more aggressive policing did not and does not lead to a community feeling a sense of safety. On the contrary, communities feel threatened. In the face of an increasingly militarized police, the threatened communities either exhibit the self-destructive rage of the powerless or feel the need to take steps, however futile, to protect themselves. Hence the demonstrations and the misdirected violence, both inner directed and directed toward law enforcement.

As the demonstrations and the level of violence and the ever more shrill reporting in the media of that violence mounts, we get the false dichotomy question: Do you support the cops or the demonstrators?

Cops? Racist. Demonstrators? Anarchist.

Now that's just stupid. We are a nation of laws, laws that protect individuals from the bad acts of other individuals. We need strong, active, skilled policing. Who else you gonna call? Ghostbusters?

But because we are a nation of laws, we are also protected from bad actors who act in the name of the government. And that includes cops. In the words of John Marshall, the first Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court: "The government of the United States has been emphatically termed a government of laws, and not of men. It will certainly cease to deserve this high appellation if the laws furnish no remedy for the violation of a vested legal right."

It is possible, logical, and downright American to support our police forces while condemning excessive behavior by individual police officers.

So where does this leave us? I submit that we are left with the necessity of viewing any number of issues that have been presented to us with less binary, more critical thinking. Israel or Palestine? Carbon-based or renewable? Flat tax or progressive rates? There are many such issues that have been used by cynical manipulators to divide us. It's time to look at each with fresh eyes. Stay tuned for a discussion of the flat tax versus a progressive rate tax code.

JOE COCKER - A MEMORABLE NIGHT


In May of 1969, I went to the Filmore East to see Jeff Beck.

NRBQ opened the show. I was never much of a fan but, live and in color, they put us in the mood.

Then The Grease Band played their first couple of numbers. These guys were more like it, playing a version of blues-tinged rock and roll that I could really get into. And as you know, the guys went on to pretty fair careers after The Grease Band folded. You could look it up. After a couple of instrumentals, they brought out their lead singer. First night of his first American tour. Joe Cocker.

We had never seen anything like it. We had never heard anything like it. Initially, both the spastic-seeming gyrations and the sheer force of that wailing voice coming from that slender body behind a thatch of wild scalp and facial hair took the focus away from the music. But not for long. You couldn't ignore Joe's music for long.

I can't say that I remember the set list. I remember Delta Lady and Dear Landlord and She Came In Through the Bathroom Window. I think. He probably did a couple of the numbers that Chris Stainton wrote, maybe Sandpaper Cadillac. The point is, though, that by the time he finished With a Little Help from My Friends, the folks downstairs were dancing in the aisles and those of us upstairs were shaking the rafters. 3,000 people in Lower Manhattan had become total Cocker fans.

After we'd settled down, Jeff Beck came onstage. The man can play guitar. He whipped through a couple of numbers, then brought out Rod Stewart for vocals. Remember, these were the days before the glitzy Stewart, when Stewart was simply Beck's vocalist. They had just finished laying down Beck-Ola. It wouldn't be too long before Stewart would leave Beck to gig with Faces and, within a couple of years, record Reason to Believe and Maggie May as a solo act. Stewart was on his way to the big time but he wasn't there yet.

Well, Stewart barely made it through his first number. Laryngitis. Aw, shoot. But wait a minute. Out comes Cocker. And he does the whole set with Beck. Damn and double damn.

The rest is history. Woodstock. Mad Dogs. Leon Russell. The Letter. Wonderful stuff.

And now it's time for the great gig in the sky with Joe trading vocals with Janice, Jimi on guitar, Jack on bass, Bonzo on drums...

RIP

LA MAL COIFFEE - A REVIEW




As I've discussed previously, C.A.P. 34 (Artists Collective of Capestang) presents concerts in the public spaces of Capestang, often with aperos (light, homemade munchies and local wine) available at a reasonable price. The first of the winter season featured La Mal Coiffee (Bad Hair), a group of five ladies singing acapella with simple percussion instruments.

The evening began as these evenings all seem to do, with aperos and local performers - a young female singer playing accordion; a female trio with guitar, clarinet, and washtub bass; and a female singer/guitarist. Good amateur fun. The aperos began with a plate of tasty bits - a wedge of quiche, a slice of cheese, a smear of humus on a thin slice of bread, and such - followed by a bowl of soup and/or dessert including a fine cheese cake with a raspberry puree.

La Mal Coiffee were a joy. These five ladies obviously enjoy singing and enjoy singing with each other. They took turns announcing the numbers - that were in Occitan mostly, I think - and taking the lead vocals. They performed a single set that lasted at least an hour and a half, finishing covered in sweat and completely drained.

Admission was free, amazing when you consider the quality of the performance. Watch the video and consider what you would pay for 90 minutes of that level of entertainment. We are so lucky to live where we live!

LAS SIMPLES COSAS - LA RETIRADA & L'EXIL - A REVIEW

 Cathey and I have been impressed with the quality of musical programming that comes to our region in the south of France. I'm not talking about the cities of Beziers, Narbonne, Carcassonne, and Montpellier, from 15 minutes to an hour away and drawing some of the world's best acts in jazz, blues, ethnic, and world music. I'm talking about our little town of Quarante and the small villages within a radius of a handful of kilometers proximate to our portion of the Canal du Midi that have populations of under 5,000 souls. In some cases, concerts are presented by a cultural consortium sponsored jointly by the villages. One independent presenter is a group called C.A.C 34 (Artists Collective of Capestang). We've been to two of their shows and been blown away. The first featured La Mal CoiffĂ©e, a dynamite group of ladies who sang up a storm. For some reason, I missed reviewing that show. Next post.

Last night, we were privileged to witness a special, multimedia performance based on La Retirada & L'Exil, a book written by Francesc Vidal, one of the hundreds of thousands of Spanish refugees who came to this part of France fleeing the ravages of the Spanish Civil War in the run up to WW II. Before the performance began, the elderly Vidal took the stage to introduce himself and his story. He talked of the importance of keeping the story alive for the generations that followed. The performance was interspersed with readings from his book by Eric Fraj, who adapted the story for the stage and who added his powerful voice to the early songs. Las Simple Cosas played numbers describing the times as well as tunes that were popular at the time. And behind the musicians as the show progressed, regional artist Bernard Cauhape painted two large panels depicting the story. The concert took place in the Capestang Hall of the People, a simple auditorium with a nice stage and decent sound and lighting that seats about 200 people.

Las Simple Cosas is a trio comprised of Guillaume Lopez (flute and vocals), Morgan Astruc (flamenco guitar), and Pascal Celma (upright bass). They were joined by frequent collaborator Simon Portefaix (percussion). An uncredited - and I believe local - violinist joined the quartet onstage for the final couple of numbers. These young men are accomplished musicians. Their flamenco was spot on. When they moved out of the traditional and into more modern, brief, jazzy riffs, their improvisational skills were impressive. Many in the audience appeared to be of Spanish heritage and they were clearly thrilled and boisterously appreciative.

The evening began, as these evenings often do, with aperos, the local term for aperitifs...appetizers. If you make reservations rather than just showing up for the concert, the folks at C.A.C. 34 prepare a plate of homemade munchies for 4 Euros ($5.00 at current rates) in this case consisting of a wedge of quiche, a chunk of cheese on a thin slice of bread, a smear of tapenade made from local olives on bread, and a bright red shredded beet salad. Cathey had a bowl of butternut squash soup ($2.50) and I had a wedge of a very thick and dark chocolate cake ($1.25). With 4 glasses of local wine at $1.25 apiece, the food - that substituted for our dinner - came to $18.75. The folks at the door seemed quite satisfied with our donation of 10 Euros ($12.50) for the concert, so the total for the night out, dinner and a show for two, came to $31.25. In the States, at our favorite venue for listening to 'serious' music, that would have been the price for one ticket.

I couldn't find a video of the show or the trio in performance. I did find THIS, a video about the basic trio as artists in residence in an institution up towards Toulouse, I think.

CHEZ JEANNETTE: ANOTHER QUIRKY RESTAURANT REVIEWED

Some restaurants are easy to describe. This one has a standard white-table-cloth-and-crystal vibe with food and prices to match. That one ca...