Tonight we learned that power in France is about more than plug converters and transformers.
Bill has been trying to set up the computer… and all that goes with it. I’m not even sure what all that really involves other than a tangle of cords and plugs and battery back up thingamagiggers. Nearly every time he plugs something in, all the power in the house goes out. Plug in… lights out… plug in… lights out. Now maybe to those who have called France home all their lives, this is totally normal. Expected even. For those of us who have called France home for a few weeks, it is frustrating. Annoying even.
The root of this evil in our maison seems to be traceable to one power strip that the electricity just doesn’t like. No, mabye Bill said it is one transformer. Yea, that’s it the transformer. So the expensive (I still don’t know what we paid and still don’t want to) transformer he bought in the United States yields our home power-less. Good if you’re talking about a super hero taking on an evil scientist. Bad if you’re talking about plugging ordinary items into a socket.
I’m not saying we should just chuck all of our American goods and rush out to Carrefour to buy French stuff. But I do think that messing around with transformers and the like to do something as routine as plug in an alarm clock isn’t really worth the hassle. For what I’m going to imagine is a small fraction of the cost of the transformer in the bedroom, we could have bought a clock that not only plugs directly into the wall but that you can actually set. For whatever reason, the clock we have juiced up with good ol’ American help cannot tell the time. I’m just going to go turn on my French coffee pot and brew a little java… er, cafe… and sit back and enjoy the candlelight.
I hope what handstands we’re going thru in Rancho Mirage will result in at least power that stays on and is ample. I don’t envy what you’re facing with that over there! Love, Dad