August 31, 2007, Power and money, understanding CFE, By Timothy Morrier, Spuns, forcs, naivs and how to say ‘I love you’, By Kendal Butler, La Princesse Margaret et moi, By Kendal Dodge Butler, LETTERS

READERS’ FORUM

Power and money, understanding CFE
By Timothy Morrier

There has been discussion about CFE’s billing practices recently. This article attempts to clarify how CFE charges and to explain how to reduce your electrical consumption and energy costs.

Let’s start by understanding exactly what an electrical utility is charging us for. The unit of measurement that is used is called a kilowatt hour kWh, which is equal to using 1000 watts for a period of one hour. If you were to leave a 100-watt light bulb on for one hour, you would have consumed 1/10 of a KWh; after 10 hours you would have used 1 KWh. As you can see, it is both the age of the appliance as well as the amount of time that it is running that determines the cost.

Over a 60-day billing period, a 60-watt light bulb that is left on 10 hours a day uses (60 watts X 10 hrs X 60 days)/1000 = 36 kWh! Take a look at your electric bills and see how many kWh you have been using; a complete year’s worth will give you a clear picture.

Now that we know what CFE is charging us for, let’s look at their rates per kWh. CFE starts a new client on tariff 1, which is their lowest priced electrical rate. (You are considered a new client when there is a change in names for billing purposes at an existing address.) It is heavily subsidized for low-income families that use small amounts of electricity. To stay on tariff 1, your average monthly consumption over the past year must remain under 250 kWh per month.

Those households that use more electricity and exceed the tariff 1 average monthly consumption level will see their tariff change to DAC (servicio doméstico de alto consumo or High Consumption Domestic Service) at the end of one year.

It is possible to return to tariff 1 if you can reduce your consumption below the 250 kWh per month for a year and submit a request to CFE. The difference in cost for 500 kWh over a two-month billing period is 356 pesos at tariff 1 or 1288 pesos at tariff DAC. Also be aware that rates increase on a monthly schedule. If you wish to consult their rate schedule, visit CFE’s website at www.cfe.gob.mx. However, the schedule is available in Spanish only.

Here are some suggestions to reduce your energy consumption and thereby reduce your costs. In the cold months, avoid using electric heaters. A portable heater draws 1500 watts when in use, using a propane heater is more economical.

When using your clothes washer, fill with large loads to cut down on the number of loads per month. Try to use the clothesline instead of the dryer, even in the winter. With the sun and low humidity we have here, clothes dry fast. Dryers have electric motors that turn the drum and use 500 to 700 watts of power. Four or five loads a week represents 6–(N)14 kWh per month. Consider just fluffing your towels in the dryer for 10 minutes.

Keeping your fridge and freezer full will reduce the amount of time the compressor runs. If you have a second fridge, it should be turned off when not needed. Purchasing an energy-efficient model is highly recommended.

Avoid incandescent light bulbs; use compact fluorescent bulbs instead. Replace light bulbs with compact fluorescent bulbs of one-fourth the wattage (15 watts replaces 60 watts). Compact fluorescent bulbs cost more to buy, but they last much longer and cost less to operate, thereby offsetting the purchase price. Compact fluorescent bulbs come in a variety of shapes and sizes. However, compact fluorescent bulbs don’t work with dimmers.

No matter what the light source, avoid leaving them on unnecessarily. Use timers or photocells to control outdoor lights. Computers should not be left on when not in use. A desktop computer can draw 100 watts or more even when not in use. Add to that the consumption of the monitor, and you can see that it adds up at the end of the month. Turning off your computer equipment when not in use will also reduce the possibility of damage from dangerous voltage fluctuations. If you have a water fountain, use a timer to reduce the number of hours per day it runs, and turn it off when you are not at home. Is the TV turned on but no one is watching it? To sum up, look at what is turned on around your house and for how long.

Timothy Morrier is a certified master electrician from Montreal, Canada with 29 years’ experience. He has directed and participated in several large energy management projects over the years. He can be reached at t_morrier@hotmail.com.

ADVENTURES IN LANGUAGE

Spuns, forcs, naivs and how to say ‘I love you’
By Kendal Butler

Kendal Butler provides an excerpt from her father’s first travel book, How Green Was My Father, which describes the Dodges’ trip to Mexico in 1946.

Published Nov 5, 2004

In the bottom of the pocket there was a wonderful little booklet the like of which I had never seen before. I stole it and had it for a week before I found a note on it urging me to take it along when I left the plane.

It was entitled The Air Traveler’s Dictionary, in English and Spanish. Whoever compiled it had condensed into a few pages a lifetime of experience. Equivalent phrases were spelled out phonetically in the two languages, and for one of those Mexico City wolves making his first trip to the States, the book would be invaluable. On the plane he could pester the stewardess with, “Mei ai jav ei drinc uv uo’-ter (co’-fi), (tchac’-let), (friút yius)?” Arriving at the airport with all those liquors sloshing around inside him, he would greet the United States with the simple, friendly question, “Juér is di mens rum, plis?” whip past the Im-i-grei’-schen In-spec’-ter, and be on his way with “Plis cól ei taxi.” At the hotel he would ask for ei sing’-l rum uid bad (boy, what that would get him!) and have dinner, using the spun, forc and naif brought by the ueí-ter to eat his fud (Ugh!).

The book makes no bones about what he is going to do after dinner. He heads right for the lábi where he sits down next to ei yung leí-di, puffs furiously on one of those stinking Mexican cheroots and says, “Des di smok bá-der iú?” (The book classifies that as an “Everyday Expression.”) From there in the picture is a little cloudy. One of them says, “Jáu ar iú?”; the other replies “Vé-ri uel, danc iú.” I followed the negotiations that far, and then the book wandered off into a jumble of nonsense about Men’-dei, Tiús-dei, Uens’dei, blac, bliú, juait, grin and yel’-o, and uen, tu, dri, fór, faiv, sics.
The plane reached Tapachula at tuélv-dir’ti.

A Lesson in Love

It was a beautiful, warm, tropical evening. The beer was cold and tangy. The moon was full. Everything was peaceful and romantic. After we had sat there quietly for a while, swigging beer and holding hands, Elva murmured dreamily, “Yo amo a usted.”

The general idea, of course, was that she was crazy about me, but it would have made any Spanish scholar wince to hear it put like that.

I said, “You use the second person, or familiar, address when you tell somebody you love him. The correct phrase is ‘Yo te amo.’”

Nothing happened for some time. Then she took her hand away.

“Where did you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“How to say ‘I love you’ so smoothly.”

“I don’t know. Out of the book, I guess. Why?”

“I just think it’s funny that somebody who can’t even order a box of matches can be so glib about saying ‘I love you.’ You never practiced it on me that I remember.”

“I never practiced it on anybody.”

“I suppose you just learned that particular phrase better than any other in the book.”

“Listen,” I said. “You’re full of beer. Let’s not...”

“I am not full of beer. And I want to know—”

“For heaven’s sake,” Kendal said, sticking her head through the window behind us. “Stop shouting. I’m trying to go to sleep.”

“I’m not shouting!” I shouted. “I was just explaining to your mamma how to say ‘I love you’ in Spanish, and she—”

“Don’t you yell at my child!” Elva screamed.

“I’ll yell at her if I feel like it!”

“You will not!”

“Quiet!” Kendal roared.

They sent a mozo out to shush us on behalf of the other guests in the auto court, and we all went to bed in grim silence. I still can’t say, “I love you” in Spanish without getting sore about it.

One year when I was a little girl and we lived in the south of France, my parents and I spent a few weeks visiting the great cathedral cities—Chartres, Rheims, Rouen, Bourges—during the off season. One afternoon in Rouen, I think it was, I lagged behind as we walked back to our hotel, and as I trailed behind my parents I was approached by an old woman in a black shawl curious to know where the étrangers were from.

It was the early ’50s; there weren’t that many foreigners visiting cathedrals in those days. Somehow, she’d figured out that I was associated with the strange couple but would nevertheless be able to understand her.

“Que’est-ce qu’ils causent?” she asked me. What are they speaking?

“Ça, c’est de l’anglais,” I answered. “Ils parlent anglais.” That’s English. They’re speaking English.

We walked along as she digested this information and tried to figure out how to make conversation about English. Clearly, a response was called for if we were to continue the conversation.

Her brow cleared. She smiled. She’d thought of just the thing.

“La princesse Margaret est très jolie, n’est-ce pas?” she inquired.

La princesse Margaret, just a few years older than I—her older sister was not yet queen—was indeed very pretty, I agreed. La princesse, however, was English, I explained, while my parents were American.

“Des américains?” she repeated.

“Oui, madame. Des États-Unis,” I added. From the United States.

That stumped her. She didn’t know anything about the States, couldn’t think of anything to say about Americans to keep the conversation going. Then she stopped, very disconcerted.

“Tes parents?”

Yes, I said, they’re my parents.

She thought it through.

“Mais alors, tu es américaine aussi?”

Well, yes, I had to admit, that meant I was American too.

“Mais tu es française, voyons!”

“Non, madame,” I replied sadly—I would much rather at that point have been a normal little French girl than the weird American kid I would shortly become, “Je suis américaine. Vraiment.” I am American. Truly.

“Pas possible,” she said firmly, and went off muttering, sure she was the victim of some prepubescent practical joke.

It was a delightful conversation while it lasted, and the neatest conversational ploy I’ve ever run across. I still tell the story occasionally, when there’s a dead spot and we’re all wracking our brains for something—anything—to keep silence from taking over.

Princess Margaret is very pretty, isn’t she?

Works every time.

LETTERS

Dear Editor,

Over the years my family and I have been coming to San Miguel on a regular basis. We have stayed in many nice homes and B & B’s. Lately, we have noted a serious deterioration of quality of life in San Miguel. Since we do not know the authorities/tourism organization, we kindly ask you to forward our concerns to whom it may concern.

We always come to San Miguel to find some “magic.” However, the magic of San Miguel has just about disappeared. We like to have fun, go out and party. On the other hand, we also like to have a peaceful night of sleep. This is simply no longer possible in San Miguel de Allende. Just about every night at the most impossible hours we are woken up by mega firecrackers. Not just in May or the beginning of June, now just about any time we come here there is no peace at night or early in the morning.

This time we stayed in the Cinco de Mayo area. In addition to suffering from all the firecrackers, we also noted the dreadful autopista traffic from the worse than ever Caracol/Manuel Zavala Hwy. What a terrible way to ruin a beautiful city. The traffic noise, day and night is very disturbing, the pollution even worse. And driving to the supermarket (up or down) is a very dangerous undertaking. What is happening to San Miguel? We might have to find another place soon.

Malcolm Oriano

Dear Editor,

Due to the extreme brutality and cruelty in the production of foie gras, it has been banned in over a dozen countries, the entire state of California, the city of Chicago, and legislation is pending in New York City. At a young age, ducks are subjected to brutal, intensive force-feeding by having a metal pipe thrust down their throats several times a day. The ducks become so overweight that they cannot stand, walk, or breathe. Their livers become ten times the normal size. At this point their throats are slit and their livers are peddled as a “gourmet” delicacy. It is horrifying that some of San Miguel’s leading restaurants are featuring foie gras. If Wolfgang Puck refuses to serve it, so should they.

Henry Petrie