167. Indian summer in the Pays Basque

5th October 2011. Sorry for being a stranger lately but I've been busy with a large lump of work (technical aviation-related translation: Fr => Eng) that's come my way. I've been sat here polishing the seat of my pants for the last few weeks poring over a couple of large technical dictionaries.. but as we're in a natural break of a few days I thought I'd try and keep you up to date with all the news that's fit to print from the Pays Basque. 

First of all, how about a quick burst of Edith Piaf as she gets to grips with Milord.. a 1959 hit for her, with the distinctive sound of that jangly street piano:

 

And while we're at it, it's been a long time - too long - since I've featured this next one - which is top of my list of music videos - straight from the Django Reinhardt festival in New York City. With such a group of virtuoso performers it's difficult to single out one but, if you were to force me, I'd have to say the clarinettist is in a league of his own - those last few bars of his solo never fail to put a smile on my face. Hint: volume to max!

Boulevard Thiers

Bar Basque

6th October 2011. For the past few months I've been exchanging emails with Perry & Caroline, a friendly Anglo-Dutch couple who live just to the east of Tarbes. They were taking a short break in the Pays Basque - renting a gîte at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port - and they'd struck lucky with the Indian summer that's been upon us for the last couple of weeks. We'd arranged to meet at - where else! - the Bar Basque (above right) in the Boulevard Thiers (above left) at Saint-Jean-de-Luz. Despite not having met them face to face before - I'd only exchanged a few words over the phone with Perry - it soon felt as though our acquaintance stretched back much longer. A pity they live so far away. After our apéro, they were off to tackle a plateau de fruits de mer..  at Kaïku in what I call "Restaurant Strasse" - more usually known as Rue de la République (between the Place Louis XIV and the beach):

Now if you can all just take a step backwards while I deal with this, I'll be with you shortly..!

On the way home I noticed that the council has started the annual pruning of the platanes.. This always gives a stark look to the streets and is a reminder that the seasons are changing.

The Rugby World Cup.. ah yes.. My money's on Ireland. Sorry if anyone's offended!

8th October 2011. Up early this morning to watch the Wales-Ireland game.. one of the best games of this RWC in my humble opinion. Ireland weren't allowed by Wales to play their game and the result was a great win for Wales.. 22-10. They looked very impressive indeed.

A hour later it was England's turn. Hmmm. France won a competitive match 19-12 but I think they'll struggle against the in-form Welsh. I don't think England started with their best XV.. But, based on my previous predictions, I wouldn't get too upset about that if you're a Bleu supporter! 

9th October 2011. The Rugby World cup is coming to the boil now.. this morning Australia surprised me by taking the semi-final spot ahead of South Africa.. while New Zealand predictably dispatched the Pumas. So one half of the draw sees a mighty Australia-New Zealand battle while the other sees France taking on Wales. The problem for me is that if I'm watching a game I like to be able to root for one side against t' other. All Blacks vs Wallabies? I've never been a fan of All Black or Australian rugby - but the current Wallabies play with an invention and a freedom that's very watchable so I'll be packing down with them (inn my armchair) in any of the scrums. France vs Wales? That's more difficult as they're both the traditional enemy in rugby terms. I suppose I'd like to see France sent home early - with my money riding on the Welsh now to win the Webb-Ellis cup.. (if Ireland couldn't!) Bring the cup back to the UK - even if it would be to the Welsh part! I should add for any Welsh reading this that I'm 25% Welsh so be gentle with me!

10th October 2011. I was watching Télé Matin on France 2 this morning and one of the news items was that it would have been John Lennon's 71st birthday today. I must admit that the story of his astonishing rise (meteoric doesn't do it justice) from a less-than-promising start in an anonymous Liverpool suburb to unprecendented world-wide fame intrigues me still. It was just short of 50 years ago that he and his group exploded into global consciousness and the mention of his name on French TV this morning shows that his name still retains all the old power it had. For those of you who, like me, grew up in that era, several films have been made about his early years that explains much about his development into the person he became.. but the one to search out is Backbeat (1994). 

12th October 2011. Yesterday we had a few hours in San Sebastian. Each time we go there I'm reminded just what a civilised town it is. It grows on me with each visit. There are squares with fountains, pedestrianised areas, wide pavements, elegant brown stone apartment buildings, some fascinating shops (what am I saying?!), friendly people and not forgetting La Concha.. the definitive bay with its great crescent-shaped expanse of yellow (nearly said golden!) sand. To my mind San Sebastian is as good as it gets. The bonus for us is that it's only a short 45 minute drive away - and parking isn't a problem.

15th October 2011. We headed off across the border into Spain yesterday for some essential shopping at Dancharia - so after picking up Madame in town where she'd been, I decided to take the old route that we used to take when we were in the gîte. It was a morning under a cloudless sky, the country roads were deserted and again I realised as we passed by our old gîte that 4 years had somehow passed by. The pale outline of La Rhune lay to the south rising above the silvery early morning haze with the endless jagged hills and mountains of the Pyrenees extending away to the south east. After Ustaritz, we headed for Cambo before taking the turn off for Larressore (where traditional Makhilas are still being made out of Medlar wood as they always have been). It was through Larressore that the Comet Line established a new route for the escaping Allied airmen in WWII after it became too dangerous to use the Saint-Jean-de-Luz/Ciboure/Urrugne route. Many escaping aircrew owe their freedom to the bravery shown by the people of Sutar (partic. the Auberge Larre), Larressore, Espelette, Souraïde and Dancharia. I think it's fair to say that this development of the Comet Line escape route into Spain is not as well known as the original route. 

As we emerged onto the road for Espelette the broad expanse of the Pyrenees lay before us. The fields and trees glistened as the low bright sun picked up the early morning dew. A few blue grey clouds clung to the sides of the higher mountains. We were reminded again just what a stunning corner of France this is. Once through the picture postcard village of Espelette, we took a winding side road that took us up into the hills to Ainhoa (one of France's most beautiful villages) and then a short run down to the unmanned border and Dancharia. We had the roads to ourselves and the country was looking at its best with the trees just starting to turn russet greeny/brown - I should have had the camera with us.

On the return we stopped off at Espelette at Antton - the chocolatier.. (available online..) They make their own chocolate on the premises and the rich smell of chocolate is all-pervading. As we walked in, we were greeted by the two ladies who offered us some chocolate to taste. Good start! You have as much chance of leaving empty handed here as you do when viewing puppies! All I can say is the chocolate doesn't disappoint.. far from it. I could taste its lingering richness all the way home. Worth remembering this address with Christmas in mind. We bought a bag of "La Ganache au Piment d'Espelette". This is dark chocolate with an inspired pinch of piment.. It's right up there with the best chocolate we've tasted. Madame's eyes glazed over when she tried some last night.. Eek!

16th October 2011. What can I say about Wales.. A moment of madness allied with an arguably harsh refereeing decision saw Wales reduced to 14 men 20 minutes into the match with France after a fine attacking start. However, once they'd got used to the idea that 14 Welshmen would be more than enough to see off a lack-lustre French side they simply carried on where they'd left off. They took the game to France in fine style while the French XV seemed bereft of any coherent attacking ideas of their own. Wales scored the only try of the match with a fine effort by Mike Phillips - who'll be playing for Bayonne this next season.

The only French player to emerge with any credit was the truly classy Maxime Médard. If only the Welsh kicking game had been slightly more accurate they'd be in the final. They scored the only try of the game and I don't think France could have scored even if Wales had left the field. Final score 9-8 to France.

Still, you have to hand it to Les Bleus.. They've played poorly throughout this tournament (beating an even poorer England side by only a converted try) and yet here they are in the final - having lost already to the All Blacks and Tonga.. I fully expect that either the All Blacks or the Aussies will administer a mighty stuffing to them next weekend. I wouldn't like to see a team that has played such undistinguished rugby walk away with the World Cup.

Yesterday evening I finished the latest instalment of work on my PC at ~6pm and I made a couple of drinks for Madame and her ever-so-'umble servant.. We sat on the terrace on a warm, still evening watching the light fade with a sangria and a wee whisky.. Ah, that felt good! So good in fact, we had another!

Pain aux raisins

There was an early burst of activity at Pipérade Towers this morning as I tried to squeeze in a few jobs before the All Blacks-Wallabies match (kick off at 10am). After a trip to the well-run council décheterie on the banks of the Adour to dump some garden rubbish, I continued along the river bank for another km as far as the roundabout (above left) with the France-Asia supermarket. Just across the roundabout is a baker - and it's here that, in my opinion, they make the best baguettes in Bayonne (Edited in 2023 to add: ownership since changed..). They make all their own bread and cakes on the premises and their baguette tradition is always a pleasure to eat - a crispy crust and a good length. The real star of the show though is their pain aux raisins.. In addition to a baguette tradition, I bought a pain aux raisins this morning. I've eaten pain aux raisins the length and breadth of France and this was the best I've ever had.. Moist, light, buttery yellow, generously filled with raisins - exactly as they should be and at 0.93€ they're far cheaper than the bakers in the centre of Bayonne (1.25€!). Another 5 star recommendation. Driving back home along the river, the sun made an appearance and gilded the surface of the water. It would have made a good photo if I'd had my camera with me.. (Think there's a message here!)

I saw the first 50 minutes or so of the NZ - Australia match until it struck me that it was really unwatchable - all crash, bang, wallop - and I wasn't enjoying watching it so I switched off. It all reminded me of rugby league in the sixties - two lines of players facing each other and the interminable pick and go's, grinding out another yard of territory. Is it me? - but exactly what is it about the All Blacks and their boss-eyed supporters that makes them so peculiarly and so deeply unlovable? First, there's the increasingly bizarre 'Haka' which, frankly, I couldn't give a toss about even if it is supposedly representative of some ancient South Pacific cultural heritage but each year it evolves and gets choreographed to become (yawn..) 'more frightening'.

Here's the original Hand Jive with Johnny "Mr Lip Sync" Otis - with three ladies who could teach the All Blacks the right way to do the 'Haka'! (plus - there's the makings of a good front row there!)

And here's the 1973 version - where the ABs look like a bunch of embarrassed blokes demonstrating the Macarena (having done the 5 minute course on the radio!). Notice that in those days that the 'Haka' was performed for the crowd..
And this is what it's become.. how can anyone take this seriously..?

I think their opponents should just leave the ABs to their willy-waving shtick and go for a stroll around the stadium, or have one last chat to their loved ones at home, eat an ice cream or read the paper.. The notion that the opponents should respect the 'Haka' is laughable! I've never understood why the IRB have, over the years, allowed them to perpetuate this tired old bit of hokum.. which sends the message that the following 80 minutes aren't going to be so much as a sporting contest as open warfare. As far as I'm concerned, the ABs have always played a uniquely brutal brand of ultra-physical rugby - enlivened only by the home crowd giving vent to some imaginative singing: “All Blacks….. All Blacks….. All Blacks….. All Blacks….. All Blacks…" ad infinitum. I’d like to have seen an Australian win.. (and it's not often you'll hear me say that!)

As for next Sunday's final, to be honest I don’t care who wins - France don't deserve it the way they've played so far - but then I don’t want the All Blacks to win either.. The classic case of two bald men fighting over a comb. Let's hope that France can raise their game, play some memorable rugby and then, who knows, anything might happen. Think I’ll be tidying my sock drawer and hoping for a northern hemisphere win..

Now - lean back, forget all about rugby, click on 'play' below, close your eyes and enjoy Chet Baker's version of 'Autumn leaves'..

before finishing up with this - from 'Chet Baker in Tokyo' - Almost Blue:

153. Thoughts on midsummer

21st June 2011. We've arrived at the longest day of the year.. and no doubt Stonehenge will have been well & truly hugged this morning by touchy-feely New Age crystal gazers et al. There's a good cross-section of them here on this clip as well as the beginnings of that old hippy stand-by - the circle dance. (Where did I put my cloak..?!)

My reliable old BS Detector flicked straight into the RED zone and almost burnt out when I saw what Father Christmas gets up to in the above clip between January and November..! It keeps them off the streets I guess.

I visited Stonehenge about 20 years ago and it was a curious experience. Over the years these ancient stones have challenged us to come up with a convincing explanation for their purpose  and, standing as they do at the side of a busy main road, I found it difficult to separate them from the mundane everyday world that passes by. However, they continue to exert a fascination over us and they have intrigued each successive generation. Today, their mute silence seems to appeal more to those who hold more alternative views. So now we have druids there in some make-believe ceremony greeting the sunrise by chanting their mantras and accompanied by - and I'm guessing here - flutes and bongos at the very least..

There's another site at Carnac in Brittany with rows of standing stones that remains mysterious to this day. 

Another hot outing this evening in a beautifully built wooden shell coxed quad sculler.. I must admit to being glad to see the clubhouse again afterwards! 13km (Running Total: 779km).

There's the Fête de la Musique tonight in Bayonne.. and on Saturday, there's the Marché Montmartre where local artists exhibit their work in the streets around the cathedral.

22nd June 2011. We drove up to Condom in the Gers today to meet up with A & I for lunch (A is an old colleague and was on holiday up near Bergerac). France is a big country and that was brought home to us (I mean me!) as we had a long drive (almost 3 hours) in the rain to Condom (which hadn't looked that far on the map!) past vast fields of rustling corn - which, curiously, despite the rain, were still being watered. There were fields of sunflowers too, all focused on where the sun should have been. And then there were the vines. Row upon countless row of vines.

After driving through a largely empty landscape, we entered the small village of Montréal and there was a sudden clustering of a large number of creatively parked cars.. and the slightly surreal sight of a crowd of people who were all engaged in playing boules or pétanque (is there a difference?) - in the rain.

It was good to see A & I again and we enjoyed a nice little lunch here.. Tried some of the local white wine - Domaine de Monluc - which I'd like to be able to find locally but I don't think there's much chance of that. 

We went for a walk around Condom afterwards and visited the Musée de l'Armagnac - but not the Musée du Préservatif which celebrates the product for which Condom is perhaps better known. (I've kept you waiting a few paragraphs for this - in Condom, even the buses come in threes..!) If you really must, scroll down this link for an idea of what awaits you there if you decide to visit.

Finally, we hove upon La Librairie Gourmande (3 Place Bossuet) which is a bookshop-cum-tea shop on three floors and highly recommended! The menu featured page after page of various teas, coffees and hot chocolate - none of us had ever seen such a variety and choice. The friendly owner also serves her own cakes - which were moist and delectable - and the customer is invited to graze from the surrounding bookshelves at the same time. I needed dislodging with a pointèd stick! 

23rd June 2011. Another sultry evening on the river in the same boat we had on Tuesday.. 14km (Running Total: 793km)

24th June 2011. Went to Saint-Jean-de-Luz in the afternoon - which was girding its loins for celebrating its Fête.. many people in red and black.. with temporary bars set up in the streets ready for the evening. After, we called in at our friends' restaurant in 'our' village where we always used to stay. Had a sangria under the platanes outside and realised with something of a shock that it was 20 years ago this summer that we made our first visit there. Back then, we were staying at another small hotel in the village but it was quite noisy at night there as it overlooked the fronton.

Back then, we asked in the restaurant if they knew of anywhere else in the village where we could stay and next minute, the chef (the father of P, the current owner) emerged from the kitchen in his whites and his tall chef's hat and said he'd take us somewhere.. He jumped in his open-topped 2CV (right) and, with his chef's hat poking out through the roof in the breeze, he careered off at speed through the village - with me sticking to him like glue - before pulling up outside a white painted Basque house 5 minutes away. (only in France!) There, we were offered a spotless chambre d'hôte room (ie, B&B) for £10 a night - and this was in the height of the season. Many happy memories of summer holidays in that village.

25th June 2011. Warm out there on the river this morning - did 14km in a coxed quad sculler. Not the best outing of the week. (Running total: 807km)

It was hot out on our west-facing terrace last night so I made a couple of caipirinhas.. which really hit the spot. The Met lady is forecasting temps of 36C for here today and tomorrow.

26th June 2011. I've mentioned Tiens! before here - it's a privately produced free online magazine about South West France that, in my view, has set the standard for fascinating content, design & beautiful photography - and all accompanied by great music. Produced by Perry & Caroline Taylor (a creative Anglo-Dutch couple) in partnership with Marc & Jacqueline Receveur-van der Grinten as a labour of love, Tiens! reflects their view of life in la France profonde by scratching below the surface to reveal the old values, habits, customs and traditions of a rural France that are in danger of disappearing in the face of the relentless advance of modernity. As far as I know, no-one 'out there' is doing anything remotely similar that portrays these aspects of rural French life so lovingly.

Alas, no-one stepped forward to support their worthy endeavours and so they had to cease publication of Tiens! after Issue # 3.  

111. La France profonde

22nd January 2011. Very cold out on the river this morning in a double sculler with a very strong downstream current.. the temperature must have been hovering around freezing. I came back with hands like a bunch of bananas! We did 10km and that was enough to be honest. (Running total 392km) Note to self: don't forget the gloves next time!

In writing this blog I've made the odd reference here and there to La France profonde (deep France). I think it's worth explaining a little more about this idea before it slowly disappears, submerged by the relentless tide of progress from modern Europe. I exchanged a flurry of emails yesterday with C from Tiens, a new start-up online magazine about SW France. I soon recognised that she and her husband P are a couple of kindred spirits in that what attracts us to this blessèd corner of France is not the glitz of the coast or the bright lights of the ski slopes but rather the timeless appeal of la France profonde. 

What is la France profonde I hear you ask..? It's difficult to pin down exactly but you'll know it when you see it. It's that moment that stops you in your tracks when you realise that you're seeing something that's been done the same way for generations and that the chances of seeing it anywhere else in western Europe are pretty slim. You could say it was contact with the real France. Or maybe it's the France of our imagination - as we'd like it all to be without it being a pastiche of the France of Robert Doisneau. Certainly in England, the baby was thrown out with the bathwater a very long time ago and a kind of mindless banalisation of life has the country in its thrall. There are two very different connotations to being described as a peasant depending upon which country you are in - France or the UK.

Perhaps a few examples of la France profonde. During a long-ago visit to France (~1970) I stopped for petrol at midday in a sleepy little village in the department of the Ardèche.. I stepped out of the car into a wall of heat, and all was silence apart from the chirruping of the cicadas. An old lady well into her 80s appeared and she proceeded to untangle a strange (to my eyes) contraption which was the petrol pump. It was old and tall with a graduated glass cylinder sitting atop it.  She started pumping a long handle to and fro and petrol appeared in the cylinder and began rising up it. When the level reached 10 litres, she inserted a long rubber hose into my petrol tank, turned a tap, and petrol flowed, as if by magic, into my car. Simple, bomb-proof and effective. While she repeated this process enough times to fill my tank, we had a chat about where I was from etc and in the course of this she revealed that she'd never seen the sea and, what's more, she'd never been out of her department of the Ardèche! That was my first encounter with la France profonde.

Another was the time when Madame and I were en route to the Pays Basque one summer and somewhere in the region around Poitiers we pulled off the autoroute for lunch. We found a small village where there was just the one restaurant and we were the first customers. Sitting down, we chose the 3 course set lunch menu which was ~£11 or so. Things started happening in that wonderfully pre-ordained way that lets you know you are back in France. Everything was comme il faut (as it should be). A generous serving of rabbit with prunes in a rich red wine sauce (I remember it well!) and a couple of glasses of red put smiles on our faces again. While we were sitting there, two young lads in their early teens came in and sat at a nearby table. It transpired that one was the waiter's son. The two of them sat there and ordered their 3 course lunch from the main menu - no sausage, beans and chips from the children's menu for them or whinging with curled up lips that they didn't like this or that.. No, they just sat there and worked their way  through all 3 courses. I remember thinking that there are two Frenchmen in the making there.

Then, when we arrived here in 2007, we took the car for its Contrôle Technique (MOT for British readers) at a garage out in the sticks. While waiting for the car to get through its examination, I spotted a flyer pinned on the wall advertising a Bingo night. What caught my eye and made me smile was the second prize: half a pig!


Le porc Pie Noir
du Pays Basque

This (left) is the Iberian pig that's to be found in the Pyrenees and northern Spain. Very hardy, somewhat picky about his food, the pig is remarkably well adapted to an outdoor life in the mountains. Its lean meat is a feature of the celebrated Basque ham from the valley of Les Aldudes. Since 1991, a regional chain was established with a quality approach to obtain an Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée (AOC).

M and Mme D in the gîte also contributed with their very traditional custom of keeping a couple of pigs for fattening up on corn and killing them (txarriboda) in the winter months. The annual slaughtering and butchering is an occasion for friends and neighbours to pitch in and help and the whole process of converting a large 200+kg porker into sausages, hams, joints, trotters, fillets, boudins noirs (black pudding) takes around three days. If you have no idea what a 200kg pig looks like, this picture (right) will give you an idea!

Madame's Tante S and her (now late) husband live in the Jura (close to the Swiss border) and it was 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 Départmentale 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. 

We returned to the hotel and went into the cosy and heavily beamed dining room. Looking around, it was clear that this was la France profonde. After browsing the menu for a few minutes I realised that this was somewhere that took its food very seriously indeed. All the classic dishes were there. Madame often says that food is the second religion in France but I'd go further than that 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.. 

Here's a film that captures something of la France profonde:

What does la France profonde mean to you..? Don't be shy - send a comment..!

The circus is in town.. a vast red and white tent, surrounded by a village of colourful caravans, trailers and bright lights, the Cirque Amar has suddenly materialised between the old ramparts and the Avenue des Allées Paulmy. 

I've always been a wee bit intrigued by the roaming life of circus people. They inhabit a slightly blurred and mysterious part of the spectrum - lying somewhere between those of us who live more or less conventionally in houses or flats, and those of a gypsy or nomadic persuasion - from respectable baby boomer retirees with their Camper Vans, through plush caravans towed by slightly dodgy Mercedes vans, to the real thing: gypsies in horse drawn caravans who cook on open fires and hobble their horses on grazing land.. I don't understand how these last two groups survive in the increasingly joined-up world of today. Think car insurance, taxes, health issues, an address for mail - but maybe they don't bother with any of this.    

24th January 2011. I read today of the passing of Major Richard Winters retd.. He was a great American hero.  RIP Sir. 

110. Anyone for logs..?

20th January 2011. Went out on the river in a coxless quad sculler this evening - it was very fresh. (weather forecaster-speak for cold..) Did 10km. (Running total: 382km)

Two years ago, over the night of 24th January, Tempête Klaus dealt a devastating blow to the forests of Les Landes between Bordeaux and Bayonne, in SW France. Winds gusting up to 175kph (110mph) howled out of the Bay of Biscay and rampaged acoss the coastal forest, knocking down hundreds of thousands of trees and power lines, blocking roads and isolating whole communities.

This video gives an idea of the devastation caused by the storm:
Each time I've driven by these stockpiles of sawn logs en route north to Bordeaux, they were being continuously sprayed with water to stop them drying out prematurely and splitting in the intense summer heat. In the past I've googled without success to try and find a link to them but I later found the name of the stockpile as "L’aire de stockage de Solférino". Apparently Solférino holds 700,000 tons of wood. The one below is just one of what looks like about 5-6 similar huge piles.

There's been a permanent wall of logs stacked along the dockside in Bayonne ever since, clearly visible from across the Adour, and they're being continuously loaded onto ships for export but the stacks of logs seem never to diminish in size.

The news story featured a gentleman who owned some 300-odd hectares of forest and he said that the price of his wood had dropped from 30€/cubic metre to 4€..