169. TVPI - our local Pays Basque TV

3rd November 2011. I finished the latest large lump of work today. I've been working 12 hour days - and longer - to break the back of this job. Tomorrow, I'll have to start reviewing and checking all I've done. A satisfying feeling though.

If you've ever wondered what Bayonne is like (and come on, be honest, who hasn't!) then here are a couple of short films from our local TV station - TVPI. If you pronounce this in the French fashion it comes out as "Tay Vay Payee" - Pays being French for country. It's not an exact translation though as Pays in French has a strong connotation with the part of the country you're from - as in roots. Here's one about a local knife maker.. 

 

And if you've ever fancied a flight in a paramoteur (not sure what the English word is for this) when down in the Pays basque, then this could be for you:

And as we head into the darker days of autumn and winter, here's a reminder of summer fun at St Jean de Luz..

4th November 2011. I stopped off at Carrefour today to have a quick look at their wine dept to see if they stocked Château Bouscassé.. Interestingly, they did - but where the display should have been was a large empty space - so I'm obviously not the only one who likes it.. I fancied buying a few bottles before the Christmas shopping avalanche starts - although I might already be too late! 

5th November 2011. Around this time last year the rains started.. it rained every day for a month. OK, sometimes the rain arrived overnight but there wasn't one day for a complete month that didn't have some rain in it. This morning, at 6.30am it was raining when I let the dog out for his early morning inspection of his territory. Not sure about rowing yet this morning.. I don't mind too much if it starts raining while I'm out on the water but putting a boat out in the middle of a downpour ain't my idea of fun. We'll see.

We went across the border to Spain as there's a small shop there that makes copies of Hermès handbags at a fraction of the price of the real thing. Afterwards we were in St Jean de Luz in the late afternoon for a few errands - we (the royal we) were window-shopping here in the Rue Gambetta (the main shopping street) when a rain shower blew through so we looked around and we noticed that we were only a quick dash away from Maison Etchebaster - a long-established (1909) pâtisserie and chocolatier and another good address (I hope you're making a note of all these!) for a hot chocolate and a macaron. Just after we found a table, other people came in dripping and suddenly the place was full. This was the first time I've had a macaron from here and it was deliciously heavy with ground almonds.

In keeping with the French predilection for occasionally giving their shops bizarre names - we saw a supermarket called Le Mutant (left) up near Arcachon a few months ago - and on the way back home to Bayonne I saw a sign for the Café Bullimic (exactly as it was spelled) in Bidart I think.. I imagine they'd need security on the door there to keep the crowds out!

I mentioned macarons above and I should point out that these come in different styles. There are these that come in a range of luminous colours and are quite addictive. Paul make them as do Dodin; L Raux at Bayonne; Henriet, Biarritz; and there must be others.

Then there are the ones made at Maison Adam (below).. a delightfully old fashioned pâtisserie & chocolatier (established in 1660..!) in Saint-Jean-de-Luz. Check out their surprisingly modern web site. You're going to hate me for telling you this but you can order online.. and with Christmas looming over  the horizon, why not give your lady an unexpected treat..?

Explaining what they all taste like is impossible in words so the only solution is to make your way down here and get stuck into some real hard work of comparative tasting. As the saying has it - it's a tough job but someone has to do it! My particular favourite are the pistachio flavoured ones from the multi-coloured range above. And maybe the dark chocolate ones. Well, you can't stop at two - which is why they come in boxes of 6, 12 or 24..

I must admit to being quite taken with the macarons we had this afternoon at Maison Etchebaster.. The price was a pleasant surprise too - at 1.60€ for two.

6th November 2011. Downstairs early this morning (~7am) to let the dog out - which is normally an occasion of great excitement for him. This morning? He poked his nose out of the door to the garden, sniffed the air for a few seconds which was full of rain lashing down before he reluctantly decided to step outside. Wonder if we're in for a month of rain like last year?

7th November 2011. Day 3 - still raining..

8th November 2011. Day 4 - it must have rained during the night as the terrace was wet this morning. Uh-oh.. we could be in for another wet November although it's forecast to be 21C here tomorrow - which probably only means that the rain will be warm..

I received the latest batch of work last night so I'm afraid I won't have too much time for the blog. You'll have to talk amongst yourselves for 2-3 weeks while I dispose of it.

9th November 2011. This morning the sky echoed to a familiar sound.. the raucous screeching of multiple straggling V formations of grues cendrées (cranes) heading south west on their annual migration to warmer climes. An inspiring sight and one that reminds me that the mystery of migration is another aspect of nature we don't fully understand.. Long may it remain so.

Meanwhile, Honda is continuing to develop its intriguing Asimo robot.. Think about the stunning technology that lies behind this latest iteration. And just think what it will capable of in the future.. They could work on production lines doing endlessly repetitive tasks 24/7.. 52 weeks of the year. No need to pay them, no social charges, no pensions, no holidays, no sickness benefits. If that scenario ever came to fruition, how long do you think it would be before they were unionised! And governments the world over would soon find a way of taxing them. 

11th November 2011. Beautiful morning down here in the Pays Basque so we decided to have lunch outside somewhere..

First though, this was the year we finally decided to have an artificial Christmas tree. I've avoided these things like the plague in the past - but the baggage associated with buying a real tree has become a pain - driving out to the garden centre to pick "the right one" from the thousands of hopefuls, squeezing it into the car, getting it into the house, persuading the dog not to pee on it (!), before removing it and disposing of it afterwards. Plus getting rid of all the needles from the house and the car..

It felt decidedly weird to be going out to buy a Christmas tree under blue skies with the temperature at 11am already climbing past 20+.. We ended up at Carrefour (where else?) where we found the one we wanted and, of course, it was Made in China. Is it me or is there not something slightly odd about the idea of a factory half way around the world in far off China churning out fake Christmas trees by the thousand - made by people who (presumably) have no idea of the symbolism and magic of Christmas? Another straw in the wind.

Artificial trees have come a long way since their introduction to the UK market in the 50s when they were made by - you'll never believe this - Addis (of toilet brush fame). This factoid wasn't widely advertised at the time (I wonder why!) - I guess the marketing men saw early on that this particular product linkage was a non-starter. They were quick to realise that the festive attraction of a 7 foot quasi-toilet brush occupying pride of place would have only limited market appeal.. And despite what those among us who would rather we called it something else, the Christmas tree will always be known as the Christmas tree in this house - not the Holiday tree. (Aaarrgghh!)

Anyway, where were we..? Oh yes - lunch! We headed south to Ascain to our old restaurant there..(right). Sitting at a table on their terrace overlooking the Pyrenees ½ hour later, it was hard to believe the date.. 11th November and, according to the car, it was 25.5°C (78°F!) They were still running their Autumn menu that features the best of local produce.. The starter? We both went for the Autumnal platter.. Jambon de Bayonne, some coarse pâté, asparagus tips, pan fried foie gras, some ventrèche, a few gherkins (or jerkins as Madame pronounces it!) and a few other bits and pieces. We started to make inroads on a bottle of Gorri d'Ansa Irouleguy.. Following the advice of C, the waiter, we'd both ordered wild boar for our main course and we weren't disappointed.. Butter soft and served with cranberries and potatoes sautéed in goose fat, things went quiet for a while.. As they say here - an angel passed. After that, grape sorbet with Marc d'Irouleguy was the perfect antidote.. After a coffee, we re-traced the old walk we used to make around the village - up through the trees and winding lanes.  

12th November 2011. Down to the river this morning for an outing in a VII sculler - yes, a seven.. We went out with no-one occupying the bow seat - or 8 as it's known in France - as its riggers were missing. We did 16km on a warm morning. By the way, I'm not keeping a running total this year. I only did it last year because I was curious to see how far I rowed in a year. 

13th November 2011. Something reminded me of this brilliant advert for Carling Black Label lager this morning..

It was warm enough today (24C) to set the table and chairs out for lunch.. and it was shorts and t-shirt weather too.. in mid-November..!

After the usual trip to the décheterie with garden rubbish, I'd gone on to the market at Anglet and bought a pain au levain.. which had the crispiest crust of any baguette we've had for a long time. I opened a bottle of Château Peyros Madiran.. which was just right with a roast farm chicken. I'd be more than happy to drink this at Christmas.

Afterwards, I sat there in the sunshine, with a Greek coffee (and a cigarillo) - hard to believe that Christmas is only about 6 weeks away.

20th November 2011. An outing in a coxed IV yesterday morning - did 16km in perfect conditions - it was high tide on the river so there was virtually no current and while there was bright sunshine, it wasn't enough to make rowing uncomfortable. It was cool enough for most of us to be in leggings.. A newish member (Franco-American) somehow managed to go for an early bath as he was leaving the pontoon in a single sculler.. over he went - sploosh.. Luckily for him the current wasn't running otherwise the outcome might have been different. The river narrows here to pass through the town and sometimes there can be a fierce current.

With the approach of winter, here's a clip I found of Biarritz shot in December - when it's so different to the madding crowds of July and August. The hills in the background at the right are the Trois Couronnes (3 Crowns) and it was around these that the Comet Line evaders would climb en route to freedom.

At 8am yesterday morning I finished the first pass of the current instalment of work - 1,000+ PowerPoint slides on aviation meteorology edited and corrected. Last night I started the review process of all I'd done and I should be able to email it all away by mid week. Phew!

87. Strangers in town!

Friday 24th September 2010. This time last week I was picking up three of my relatives at Bordeaux airport who were going to be staying with us for a few days. The first to arrive were my cousin M and her Canadian husband R who had flown over from Toronto via Paris; they were followed a short time later by S, my cousin from England. We'd been greatly looking forward to their visit since we first invited them over a year ago. I'd been looking at the long range weather forecasts for weeks and, after a prolonged spell of great summer weather down here, clouds and rain were being predicted over the five days of their stay in the Pays Basque. I shouldn't have worried as far as they were concerned - for Canadians like M & R, anything north of freezing point is a bonus! They'd have been just as happy here if it had been snow and ice!

Hotel/restaurant Ramuntcho, St Jean Pied de Port

As it turned out, despite all the gloomy predictions of the weather forecasters, they were treated to perfect weather every day they were here.. it couldn't have been better for them with blue skies and temperatures up in the mid twenties. They really saw the Pays Basque at its very best. For me, one of the many highlights was a lunch we had one day at St Jean Pied de Port. We had thought of taking them to one of our favourite places, the hotel/restaurant "Ramuntcho", an excellent family-run traditional establishment set squarely in the historic part of town.

(Edited to add in 2023: It appears that the restaurant could be closed. Worth checking)

Unfortunately, when we arrived there we found it was their closing day so, after exploring the picturesque street with its Pilgrim* signs everywhere and walking along the old fortified walls of the town, we found our way across the main road to the Hotel Central** (below), situated on a bridge high above the Nive. While its stylish and cool dining room was tempting, we found a shaded table for five out on their terrace that overlooked the river and - well, all I can say is: try it for yourselves..! That lunch will live long in the memory.

* Santiago de Compostela
**Needless to say, I have no commercial interest in this hotel or any other business recommended here.


We also took them to San Sebastian and stopped for a lunch of pintxos (tapas) at our favourite dog-friendly bar Aralar (follow the link for photos) in the heart of the old town.

There was the usual colourful and mouth-watering display of pinxtos - bite-sized appetisers made with prawns, fish, crab, croquettes, tortilla, jamon, egg, red peppers stuffed with cod and many other tasty morsels too numerous to mention - set out all along the self-service bar-top which you then take to the friendly multi-lingual barman (who speaks at least 5 languages) for him to total up.

Aralar

What to drink? Sangria is the drink of choice at Aralar which they serve in an oversized glass (tough job but someone has to do it!). After a bracing 130 octane unleaded extra virgin cold pressed Spanish espresso to finish off with, we emerged blinking into the sunlight, stuffed to the gills, feeling suitably mellow and riding 'very low in the water'*, to wander around the beautiful old streets of San Sebastian for a while in the late afternoon sun.

* A saying of Bill McLaren's, rugby's greatest ever commentator.

La Concha, San Sebastian

We narrowly escaped bumping into Julia Roberts who was breezing through town and due in a plush downtown hotel on a whistle-stop tour around Europe to promote her latest film. Her loss! This review suggests to me that the film has all the essential ingredients that any successful chick flick needs. Without being too dinosaur-ish about it all, when it plays in Bayonne I reckon I'll be otherwise engaged giving my sock drawer the Mother Of All Tidyings ..! Anyway, don't let my curmudgeonly ramblings put you off. Here, for all you ladies out there, is the trailer.. (tell me I'm wrong!)

Another unexpected bonus occurred during a visit to a sunny St Jean de Luz.. We found out on arrival that the Patrouille de France were going to be displaying a little later over the bay.. so we found a good vantage point on the sea wall. The team is led this year by a woman - Commandant Virginie Guyot.

We took our visitors around all our favourite places in the Pays Basque - as well as San Sebastian, St Jean Pied de Port and St Jean de Luz, we visited Ascain, Sare, Ainhoa, Saint Etienne de Baïgorry (where we bought some Irouléguy from the cooperative), Biarritz and of course Bayonne. It was great to see them here but suddenly it was the day of their departure for Carcassonne and their stay with us was over all too soon. It seemed as though we'd only just said hello to them before we were saying goodbye. There is so much more here we could have shown them. For instance, one of our favourite villages is Sare - notable for the distinguished old Hotel Arraya in the centre. We had lunch there one day - it was worth the trip just to see the dining room (below)..

Being totally honest, we both found the portions on the light side - even accepting that in these days of nouvelle cuisine, a groaning table is a thing of the past.

If you do visit the region, you have to try the wines.. They're not quirky oddities, they don't fall into the "don't travel" category and you definitely won't regret it. Just ensure that both the reds are not cool from your cellar.. pop them into your airing cupboard to bring the temp up a few notches.

Having tried many of the Irouléguys I'd recommend the Irouléguy Gorri d'Ansa (expect to pay ~8-9€ in a shop). There is a white Irouléguy but I've not tried it. I'd say 9 out of 10 bottles of Irouléguy are red. (Edited to add: these are 2010 prices)

Madiran? Chateau Peyros would get my vote. Yes, there are cheaper alternatives but as always... fill in the rest yourself!

As for the Jurançon, I don't know it sufficiently well to recommend one above another. You can find dry and doux (sweet) Jurançon. The dry is excellent with seafood whereas you should save the doux as an apero or with foie gras or dessert. (Edited to add: We had a Domaine Cauhapé recently.. wonderful!) If unsure which one you're looking at, the doux Jurançon has a hint of amber in the colour whereas the dry is very pale.

If you find yourself standing in front of a shelf feeling a tad confused, always remember this tip.. Look at the label to see if it gives the name of the Propriétaire - it might say Mis en bouteille par - bottled by Gaston Dupont (made up name). As a quick rule of thumb, I think if someone is prepared to put his name on his wine it counts for more than one produced by a Société.. How will you know if it's been produced by a Société..? At the base of the label, you might see the word Société or you might see an acronym - something like SCEA or something close to.. That means the wine has been produced by a number of growers and well.. human nature being what it is etc etc. Reading the label though is no substitute for tasting a wine at the right temperature and with food. At this point I'll put my tin hat on and await the incoming!

25th September 2010. The skies looked a bit threatening this morning on my way down to the rowing club.. The river was in full flood mode and there was one heck of a strong downstream current. We had about 3 yolettes (beamy 'fours' for beginners) out on the water and they were barely making any headway up-river. I went out in a quad sculler and, sure enough, fifteen minutes into the outing there was a downpour.. Ah well, 'tis only water.. Did 12 km (running total 190km).

26th September 2010. Down to the beach at Anglet this afternoon to enjoy the sunshine and we sat and relaxed watching the rollers surging in and bursting in explosions of foam and spray against the jetty there.

28th September 2010. My cousin brought me a fascinating book about the Royal Flying Corps and that's enough of an excuse for me to replay the late Rik Mayall at his very best:

Out in the VIII (rowing, not sculling) this evening.. Set off late due to a small tech problem so we headed off down river to join the wide open spaces of the Adour. There was a rolling swell as we neared the sea which made for uncomfortable rowing so we turned about and came back. 12km (running total 202km)

30th September 2010. We went to Biarritz this morning - Madame had an appointment at the hairdressers there so I ambled around with the pooch doing pensioner impressions for an hour - shouting at passing traffic, blocking pavements, pulling doors marked push - that sort of thing. Then, after she'd finished, we had a pizza in a place opposite Barclays Bank (near Hotel Windsor). Delicious pizza - highly recommended..

Went rowing this evening in a quad sculler - 12km (running total 214km).

2nd October 2010. 15km this morning in a IV. (running total 220km)

5th October 2010. 12km (total 232km)

9th October 2010. 16 km (total 248km)

61. Tourist week

15th May 2010. This week, we had M here for a few days. She's an old friend of Madame's and our first visitor of the year. After the unexpected heat of April (up to 28), the clouds and rain returned and the temps dropped down to 10-12C.. Brrr! We thought M was going to be in for a rough time but the weather gods smiled on her as the skies cleared and on Monday last it was 24.. We gave her our patented lightning 2 day tour of the Pays Basque.. On Monday morning I showed her around the narrow winding streets of Bayonne while Madame was at her painting class. As M's yet another fully paid up member of the Chocaholique Club.. (show me a woman who isn't!) I thought I'd take her to the legendary établissement Cazenave under the arcades in the Rue Port Neuf for a hot chocolat à l'ancienne served in porcelain de Limoges. But, I'd forgotten it was Monday and, like quite a few other shops in town, it was closed. This is what she missed:

Cazenave make their own chocolate and it is really the Rolls Royce of chocolate.

We ended up having a cappucino here - sitting outside the Hotel de Ville in the sunshine.

Following this, we wandered through the quiet Monday morning streets of town, stopping only at the cathedral where we walked around its ancient honeyed stone cloisters before returning home for lunch.. In the afternoon we drove down to St Jean de Luz where someone had clearly just opened a fresh box of pensioners as the streets were full of strolling baby boomers.. We must have reduced the average age of people in town by 10 years.. (maybe!)

The clock was ticking and so we upped sticks and moved up the coast to Biarritz. Walking along the promenade the temperature must have been around 24 at least.. it felt like summer was with us again.

The next day we headed inland under grey skies (ouf!) to show M some of the delights of the Pays Basque such as St Etienne de Baigorry, St Jean Pied de Port and Ainhoa (one of the most beautiful villages in all of France). St Jean Pied de Port is on the pilgrim trail to Santiago de Compostela in north western Spain. After walking through the timeless streets of St Jean Pied de Port, M was kind enough to treat us to lunch at the Hotel Ramuntcho. This is a classic French family-run restaurant and the reasonably priced lunch was delicious. After this we set off for the valley of Les Aldudes (which I've mentioned before). Unfortunately, it was still quite misty up there and the true splendour of the mountain scenery was largely hidden. Ainhoa was next and it's a village which, at the height of the season, is an absolute tourist honey-pot. It's almost a stone's throw from the Spanish border and it seems a long way from Calais! We found an old cafe that looked as if it hadn't been altered for 100 years and had a coffee and found space for a piece of gâteau basque.

  

Here's a classic track from Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton. I don't think she got the recognition her voice deserved.. her voice is pitch perfect and has a clarity all of its own.  

53. Hemingway & the Pays Basque

30th March 2010. The Hemingway persona/myth continues to fascinate as each succeeding generation discovers the man and his work anew. One of the preoccupations of youth has always been the conspicuous consumption of alcohol and in picking Hemingway as a role model, they're never in any danger of being disappointed on that score. That he carried on his youthful heavy drinking all through his adult life during which he drove ambulances on the Italian front in WW1, skied in the Alps, shot big game in Africa, fished the Gulf Stream, followed bullfights, served as a war correspondent during the Spanish Civil War and WWII, became a serial husband and, to pay the bills, worked as a journalist and, in his novels, produced some of the greatest writing of the 20th century - only serves to lend credence to, and perhaps legitimise, his legendary love affair with the one mistress he stayed faithful to all his life - alcohol.

In the course of a colourful life lived to the full, he left an indelible imprint in several locations scattered around the fringes of the western world. It could be argued that he rode the first wave of global tourism. There must be as many blue plaques in bars around the world indicating that Ernest Hemingway ate or drank here (usually the latter) as there are inns in the UK claiming that Mary, Queen of Scots, slept there. I must admit I envy him for having been able to experience Italy, France, Spain, East Africa, Key West and Cuba before tourism marked them irreparably. Yes, he's a flawed figure and one who's easy to mock or parody - but there's no denying the fact that he wrote much beautiful prose and despite living a hunting, shooting, fishing, drinking, womanising life with a tendency to self-aggrandisement, he remains a fascinatingly charismatic figure. Paris continues to attract young Americans who go there hoping to write the great American novel. Hemingway put down markers that seem impossibly out of reach.

The Pays Basque and Spain frequently figured in EH's body of work as well as in his personal life. He left America in the early 1920s to take up residence in Paris, from where he travelled to Pamplona via the Pays Basque for the now-legendary running of the bulls during the feast of San Fermin. This must have been a fairly obscure event in a dusty corner of Europe at the time when Hemingway visited it.

   

Nowadays, the running of the bulls has morphed into an international rite of passage for thousands of young men from many nations and also for more than a few older ones who are seeking to re-capture their lost youth. For Hemingway though, this was a life-changing experience and he immortalised it in his first best-selling novel The Sun Also Rises. It describes how the relationships within a group of expat Americans and Brits change during the alcohol-fuelled week of the San Fermin festival against a background of bull fighting. Jake is the narrator and clearly speaks with Hemingway's voice. After a memorable week, Jake finishes up in Madrid having lunch with Lady Brett - where Hemingway has Jake polishing off 5 bottles of Rioja (as you do!).

Hemingway arrived in Bayonne by train from Paris to catch his first sight of the Pays Basque. Arriving in Bayonne on a summer's night after a long hot train journey from Paris, I would think his first priority after crossing the bridge over the Adour to find a hotel in the old centre of Bayonne would have been to find the nearest bar - of which there is no shortage - for a cold beer or two. Having grown up (in Prohibition America) in the leafy suburbs of staid Oak Park, a wealthy suburb of Chicago, he must have been excited at the thought of what lay ahead.

He travelled on through the Basque country to Pamplona but always returned to the coast - San Sebastian, Hendaye, St Jean de Luz or Biarritz. Much later in life (in 1959) he was commissioned to write one last time about a summer of bullfighting in Spain. He recruited a young American woman as his secretary and she wrote that:

"On the trips we took to France Hemingway carried the manuscript of the novel with him. In late August we went to Dax to see Antonio fight. We stayed at the Chantaco Hotel in St. Jean de Luz and ate at the Bar Basque."

The  Hotel Chantaco (just outside St Jean de Luz) remains the same fine & grand establishment that it surely was 50 years ago:

Hotel de Chantaco

I suspect that EH would have been far more at home in the unpretentious Bar Basque in the Boulevard Thiers, Saint-Jean-de Luz. Well situated in a leafy boulevard, the Bar Basque is a 'clean, well-lighted place' and somewhere that's very pleasant indeed to sit with a late drink (or 3) under the platanes on a summer's evening and watch the world go by.

Bar Basque

This week's freebie - Papa's grand-daughter Mariel playing opposite Woody Allen in the great closing scene of "Manhattan", with Gershwin pulling it all together. I like the moment when the penny drops for Woody at 02:23.. (we've all been there..)

Finally, still on the Hemingway theme of this week's post, here's Paolo Conte with his "Hemingway":

I cut and pasted the Italian lyrics into Babelfish and this popped out the other end! I'm none the wiser..

Beyond the dolcezze dell Harrys Bar

And the tendernesses of Zanzibar wax questra road

Beyond the illusions of Timbuctoo

And the long legs of Babal wax this road

Quetsa road zitta that it flies via like a butterfly,

Nostalgia, nostalgia to the taste of curaçao

Perhaps a day better me spiegher

Et alors, Monsieur Hemingway, to it goes?

Et alors, Monsieur Hemingway, to it goes mieux?

Well I hope that's answered any questions you may have had!

Wish I'd said this:  "Always carry a large flagon of whisky in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake."

One for the road:

"Don't you drink? I notice you speak slightingly of the bottle. I have drunk since I was fifteen and few things have given me more pleasure. When you work hard all day with your head and know you must work again the next day what else can change your ideas and make them run on a different plane like whisky? When you are cold and wet what else can warm you?"                                                  

                                         Ernest Hemingway

33. Christmas countdown..

25th November 2009. With the erection of 40 or so wooden chalets (aka garden sheds) in front of the Hôtel de Ville in Bayonne - ready for the Christmas market - there's now no hiding from the fact that Christmas is coming. The lights aren't up yet though.

When I was over in England in September, the previously mentioned Major Bloodnok was kind enough to make me a present of 2 large Christmas puddings. They've been sat in the cellar ever since and each time I go down there I'm tempted to bring one up into the light of day and sweet-talk Madame into heating one up. (Fat chance!) She does like them - but only at Christmas. (Rats!) I think that, as a food item, appreciation of them is usually limited to those of an Anglo Saxon origin. We're going up to Paris to stay with Madame's brother for a few days over Christmas and, for a few crazy moments, I thought that one of the Pudding Brothers would make an excellent contribution to the Christmas fare. That is, until the mental image of a table full of chauvinistic Gauls swam across my mind - each regarding their steaming slice of pudding with the utmost suspicion, poking and prodding it with looks of disdain as if it were still alive.. reluctantly tasting a morsel that could be harbouring e-coli at the very least. And this from a nation wot eats andouillette!! No, I don't think I'll bother. The French have a great expression for this: donner de la confiture aux cochons.. or to give jam to pigs!

At the risk of annoying those who live to the north, I must mention the unseasonably good weather we've been enjoying here for the last week (after the storms!). Temps of 24C and today it must be ~18-20C.. with matching blue skies.

With my knees giving me gyp at the moment, it's clear that our Golf is too small for us (ie, me) if we want to visit Tante S, Madame's auntie who lives in the Jura near the Swiss border (830kms away) as well as doing any long trips of exploration into Spain and Italy. After an hour's driving, I need to extend my legs which, in the Golf, I'm unable to do. So for the last few months we've been looking at all the options. We've test driven all kinds of cars and now we've homed in on the VW Tiguan as being the most suitable. With a little luck we should have one in time for our Christmas jaunt up to Paris..

Mentioning Tante S reminds me of the time when she and her now late husband were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary one summer in the mid 90s. They'd decided to have a celebratory dinner and had invited a representative from each part of the extended family (to keep the numbers down to a manageable level) and so we came to be invited. We'd planned our annual visit to the Pays Basque such that at the end of it we could drive up & across to the Jura to arrive in time..

We wanted to avoid the boredom of the autoroutes so we thought we'd simply "straight-line it" across France - going by the Departmentale* roads - thus seeing a bit more of the country. After driving all day on lonely roads through mountains, forests and villages we stopped overnight at a village called Bourganeuf (between Limoges and Clermont-Ferrand) which is as near as dammit in the centre of France. We quickly dropped our bags in a 2* "Logis" hotel in the centre and then went out for a swift leg stretch before dinner. I remember being amazed to find a fish shop still open at 7pm. What's more, the display of gleaming fish on ice under the lights looked as fresh as could be and - remember - this was in a village 200 miles from the coast..!

We returned to the hotel and went into the cosy and heavily beamed dining room. Looking around, it was clear that this was the real France (aka la France profonde). After browsing the menu for a few minutes I realised that this was somewhere that took its food seriously. All the classic dishes were there. Madame often says that food is the second religion in France but I'd go further and say it's the first - as more people go to restaurants than go to church. Looking through the wine list I couldn't believe what I was seeing - most of the wine was priced at somewhere between £200 and £800 a bottle.. There were some fabled wines there that I'd only read about - Château Palmer, Château Gruaud-Larose, Château Haut-Brion and Château Yquem - and this in a un cheval village in the middle of nowhere.. Who was buying this? Needless to say, we had a bottle of something far more modest!

/to be continued..

* Autoroutes (motorways) are A roads.. as in the A63 from Bayonne to Bordeaux (UK equivalents? The M1, M5, M6 etc).

Nationale roads are N roads (as in N7) - these equate to the A roads in the UK.

Departmentale roads are D roads - and are equivalent to the UK's B roads.

Hope that's cleared up any confusion there may have been!

27. All Saints Day

1st November 2009. Yesterday, I went to watch Aviron Bayonne, the local rugby union club, play Toulon (Jonny Wilkinson's new club). Unfortunately he wasn't playing as he's back in England training with the England squad in preparation for the autumn internationals. Toulon is coached by Tana Umaga, the former All-Black, so they are no slouches. I came by the ticket courtesy of one of the girls at the rowing club - she said that her husband Éric was going and could get me a ticket. We arranged to meet at the main gate at 2pm.. When they arrived, it turned out that it was a 'freebie' and, not only that, it was a VIP ticket as well with access to pre- and post-match hospitality. Yee-haar..!

We went in and headed towards the hospitality tent, spotting Amelie Mauresmo (the French tennis player) on the way. The level of support for the club was clear for all to see - just about everyone was wearing something pale blue - the colour of Aviron Bayonne. It seemed as much a social occasion as a rugby match with many elegant ladies evident. Entering the VIP hospitality tent, I was staggered by the quality of the offerings.. there were ~30 tables - each sponsored by local companies – laden with seafood and other delicacies. We quickly found the right table and, as it was very warm, we just had time for a cold beer before going into the main stand to find our seats. Bayonne are struggling at the foot of the Top 14 having just sacked their coach but despite that they were very lively. They could and should have put points on the board before Toulon did. However, as it was, Toulon were more clinical and it ended 8-14.

This is a video of the Bayonne crowd singing their "Hymne" - Vino Griego or "La Peña Baïona" - on another occasion. When Bayonne play at home and the crowd sing it, we can hear them at the house. Guaranteed to bring you out in goose pimples..!

  

After the game, we returned to the VIP tent and this time, every table had, as its centrepiece, platters of seafood and oysters.. and cheeses various. ("Only in France.." I thought) There were opened bottles of Bordeaux on every table as well which I just had to interview and there was a champagne bar which didn't appear to be doing much business after the loss.

After we'd drowned our sorrows a bit, we came back to our place and sat out on the terrace in the garden with some tea and cake that Madame had. All in all, a very pleasant afternoon.

Today is All Saints Day in France and it's the day in the year when families, friends and relatives set off to visit the graves of their loved ones in cemeteries all over France. Not entirely coincidentally, the weekend also rates very highly as a "Black Weekend" as far as road deaths are concerned as motorists take to the motorways in droves and embark on long journeys - to the town or village of their infancy - to visit the family grave.

Many of these drivers seldom travel outside their Department and so the prospect of a long road trip is more than usually fraught with danger. For the rest of us, it's a good weekend to stay indoors. For the last few days, the local regional TV news has been showing the Gendarmerie operating speed traps along the length and breadth of Aquitaine - all of which served to remind Madame to wag a cautionary finger at me - as my driving licence is hanging on - as they would say in the Eurovision Song Contest - by neuf points..

It is traditional to leave flowers at the graveside and the flower most often left is the chrysanthemum. (Warning: if invited to a French home, never be tempted to offer chrysanthemums.) Flower shops at this time of the year seem to sell nothing but pots of chrysanthemums (right).. I walked into Bayonne this fine Sunday morning - in shirt-sleeves (winter seems like another country) - to buy a couple of campaillettes (an extremely more-ish pointy-ended crusty baguette currently in favour with the Mem'sahib) from a baker with a traditional wood-fired oven in Petit Bayonne - just across the Nive. As I walked down the avenue, I couldn't help noticing the size of the chestnut leaves that have started drifting down - some were a good foot across. Our local florist had an amazing display of beautifully sculpted chrysanthemums in pots this morning.. as did all the other florists in town.

I stopped at a cash machine and when I'd finished, an old gentleman who'd been waiting behind me asked if I could help him. At first I thought I was being offered an opportunity to contribute to his lunch but then I realised he was asking me for help in operating the cash machine. I managed to get through all of this without asking him to repeat himself or without him asking me to repeat myself. All in French. Afterwards, I continued my walk feeling pleasantly pleased with myself. Another minor victory. I've had these unexpected conversations before where I've had to run up the white flag and confess to being an "Angliche" - being unable to dredge up the right words in time.

Into Bayonne proper at around 10am, the shuttered streets were fairly empty apart from a handful of chic Parisian tourists clutching their Guides Michelin. It was low water and looking down into the Nive, there were shoals of fat grey mullet hunting in packs for titbits. Over the bridge and into the bakers and the heady smell of hot fresh bread.. (Mmm!)

Job done - two hot loaves in hand - I somehow managed to resist the temptation to nibble the pointed end of a Campaillette on the return journey. Walking down the shopping street near home, I passed by 'our' estate agent.. Its window was full of property details and I noticed a smallish slim box with a slot in it affixed to the wall. It invited any party interested in a property to leave a Carte de Visite in the box. This struck me not only as an excellent idea but also a delightfully old-fashioned one at the same time - the assumption that a prospective house buyer would possess a carte de visite. How many people in England would have a visiting card - not a business card. Not too many I’d guess.

It's midday, the windows are wide open, the sun is shining and church bells are ringing all across Bayonne.

I don't know about you but I'm off downstairs to set the table.

Addendum. It turned out that Madame had other ideas. A pot of paint and a paint brush were waiting for me downstairs and she pointed me in the direction of the front door which needed another coat of paint before winter. She simply doesn't realise the importance of keeping this blog up to date!

We went for a walk with the dawg along the sea-front at Biarritz in the late afternoon as the forecast for next week is for showers (or bits and pieces of rain as the BBC weather girls say!). Although the car thermometer said 25C, it felt a few degrees warmer.. and there was quite a crowd out, with people swimming and surfing. It was still 24 at 6.30 when we arrived home - all this on 1st November!

We once saw the "Riverdance" show at the Sheffield Arena in England and it was a stunning performance. It was a fill-in act during the interval during the 1994 Eurovision Song Contest in Dublin and they took the place by storm. (Health Warning: Don't try this at home!) Fast forward to 4:45 if you're short of time:

When we saw the show in Sheffield, we were lucky enough to be seated near to the very talented Irish band. I'd've paid just to hear them.. they looked like they were enjoying themselves and would have played for nothing. The one who stood out for us though was Davy Spillane on the Uilleann pipes:

26. River bank tales

25th October 2009. We enjoyed a lip-smacking dinner on Friday evening. J-Y, the husband of D (Madame’s painting teacher), had prepared a superb five course meal for all the class at the workshop/studio in the heart of Bayonne. He’d trained as a chef but found that he didn’t enjoy being shouted at by choleric chefs and so he abandoned cuisine as a career. However, thankfully, he’s continued cooking as an amateur. He and his wife are an extremely creative couple – we went to a soirée there about a month ago held to raise public awareness of foreign ‘jobless’ & students in Bayonne. There was a wide range of nationalities reflected in those present and they each presented themselves in their own language, with the aid of an interpreter if necessary. It was very well done and it succeeded in turning each one from the “jobless scrounger” stereotype into an individual.

As October draws to a close, the temps are bouncing around. Large leathery brown leaves from the chestnut trees are starting to drift down from on high in the avenue. The other morning it was down to 3C but this afternoon according to the thermometer in the car it was 25.. so we decided to go for a walk with the pooch along the Nive.

The Nive

We discovered this walk a few months ago and it’s become one of our favourites as the path is tarmac which helps keep the dog fairly clean. We’d originally planned on turning around at a small footbridge about 12km from Bayonne but having got there we realised that the village of our gite was just nearby. We carried on, only stopping at a farm shop to pick up a gateau Basque to offer M et Mme D. It was great to see them again and we sat outside in the sunshine before deciding to move inside as it was just too hot out there in the sun.. We had a couple of glasses of wine with the cake before heading back along the Nive to where we’d left the car.

One of the guys down at the rowing club has managed to find me a ticket for the Bayonne-Toulon game at the weekend.. Unfortunately Jonny Wilkinson won't be playing as he's joining up with the England squad for a month.

I started reading Robert Louis Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes today. Think I'd like to follow in his footsteps and bring the story up to date. He wrote it in 1878 when he was 28. The following year he travelled across the US to California before returning to Scotland. He went back to the US and then on to Australia before finally settling in Samoa. He was only 44 when he died.

I'd better start writing..!

Friday 30th October 2009: Just returned from soaking up the sun on the beach at Anglet.. where it was a warm 26 this afternoon. Our last visit for 2009? Who knows.. but I'm keeping a knotted hanky in the car just in case..

13. French classes and Nantes

I changed French schools a few weeks ago because the one I was at was all self-taught – I would pick up a module that explained a particular point and I would sit there doing the exercises until the centime dropped. It was all a bit soul-destroying so Madame said I’d be better off in a class with a teacher. So I had my first lesson in the new school. After a few minutes the teacher said that I should be in the Woodwork class oops, a higher level group.. But it was a lot better than the previous school.

A few weekends ago we were up in Brittany staying with our friends P and M-A in Nantes. On the Sunday morning before lunch, they took us on a lightning tour around the centre of Nantes. I don’t think Nantes is that well known in England but I think it deserves better. It suffered bomb damage in the war but the old part, which contains a magnificent castle, is still largely intact.

The castle was the former capital of the kingdom of Brittany in olden times and following its recent complete restoration, its stones are now gleaming white and it looked fully functional. Really impressive.

The old part of Nantes reminded us of parts of Paris with its beautiful old squares, elegant public buildings and Baron Haussman-esque apartment buildings. It was much more of a city than I’d expected. It has topped the polls in France for the last few years as being the city with the best overall quality of life. It's full of smart shops and restaurants, antique shops, old book stores and many individual shops that (almost) made me want to stop and have a look.

By comparison, Bayonne is much smaller. But then here there’s Saint-Jean-de-Luz, Biarritz, Anglet and Bayonne all in very close proximity to each other - each with its own distinctive character and attractions – and over the border in Spain there’s San Sebastian which is very stylish. Saint-Jean-de-Luz is Madame’s favourite and, as I’ve said before, I think when we get a bit older, we’ll probably think about looking for a flat in the centre there. We often go for a walk in St-J-de-L and it suits us both very well. It’s flat (unlike Biarritz which is quite hilly), compact (so everything is in within easy reach) and the beach is only at one remove from the centre of town.

We’ll see. Think Nantes would be a good place to work but I think down here is the better place for retirement because there’s the seaside, the much warmer climate, the mountains (skiing and walking), fishing, cycling (lots of cycle paths), golf (must be half a dozen golf courses at least around here), and, of course, there’s Spain just over the border. We also noticed that autumn was a lot more advanced up around Nantes – not many leaves left on the trees – whereas here just a few trees have started to change colour and drop their leaves.

Madame always says that the River Loire (which Nantes is at the mouth of) is the big divide in France as far as climate is concerned – north of it and you’ve got all the clouds, rain and mist and to the south of it you’ve got the sunshine. In theory!

We also went into the restored cathedral in the centre of Nantes which looked as though it was built only last week. There’d been a fire in 1972 which totally destroyed the roof and all the old medieval stained glass windows were lost as they exploded out in the intense heat. The replacement stained glass windows were a bit different too – instead of the usual scenes of saints, Eddie Stobart and co etc, they’d been designed to look like flames – and each window showed a different level of intensity of the fire. Some looked very good but others not so. The fire was caused apparently by some workmen who were working up on the roof with blowlamps setting fire to pigeons or something.

We didn’t have much time to spend looking around as the next stop was the huge Talensac food market. Apparently, this is one of the biggest and best in France and you would just not believe the range, variety, quality and prices of all the food products – poultry of all types and sizes, seafood, all kinds of meat products and fruit and veg on show. I wished I had my camera with me as at one point I spotted a smartly dressed lady in a queue at a till waiting to pay. She had her money in one hand and she was holding two large nasty-looking live crabs in the other.. Can’t imagine ever seeing that in England.

Thinking about that I was reminded of the other day when we had some oysters for lunch in Bayonne. On one side, there was a lady on her own tucking in to a dozen oysters and a whole bottle of white wine (I think I might struggle with that..) and on the other side, there were two ladies having lunch together – again, tucking into a pile of oysters with a bottle of white wine in an ice bucket. I remember thinking now there’s another sight you’d never see in England.. (and why not..?) If you are visiting France and have yet to try an oyster, don't let anyone tell you that they're slimy - they are anything but. Loosen the oyster from its shell, squeeze some lemon juice over the oyster and raise the shell to your lips and slide the oyster into your mouth accompanied by a sip (or two) of Chablis, Muscadet sur Lie or Sancerre.. Mmm! Please, no Guinness or Tabasco sauce - these kill the taste in my view. If you are new to oysters I'd suggest starting with No 4s. The number refers to the size - with a No 1 (close to the size of a horse's hoof) being the largest.

We also stopped briefly to look in the window of a cake shop… Ye gods… you would not believe how good everything looked. But there was not an Eccles cake or a custard slice to be seen for love nor money!

So, back to Tuesday… at my new French class this morning, there were four of us – J (a Sarth Efrican woman), L (a young Mexican hom) and O, a Spanish speaking chap from somewhere in Central America. J has been here since April and her husband commutes from Biarritz to London a few days a week then returns here for a long weekend. Think they’ve been watching too many of these House Abroad shows on TV. Crazy. She doesn’t speak a word of French and even if she could, no-one would understand her. She told me that she didn’t do it at school. Her pronunciation is just about the worst I’ve ever heard – worse even than mine! She pronounced vous gagnez as “vooze gagg nezz” and mieux as “my ucks” – think she has a long way to go. I subsequently was moved up to a higher level class and so I've lost track of how J was doing.. I wish her well!

My new group - a mixed class of around 10 - consisted of Germans, Argentinians, Mexicans, a Pole, a Kosovan and me.

Wonder what the French is for Eccles cake?