251. Another day, another euro..

30th January. I've mentioned before somewhere here that the French habitually abbreviate words and expressions. McDonalds becomes McDo (pronounced McDough), "l'actualité" (TV News) becomes "l'actu", ordinateur (computer) => ordi and Sécurité Sociale => Sécu are commonly heard examples. Through force of habit, I invariably say "Merci" when leaving a shop and this often triggers the reply, "Non, c'est moi qui vous remercie" (No, it's I who should thank you). The other day I received the abbreviated version of this.. I said "Merci" and the shopkeeper replied, "C'est moi..". If I hadn't heard the longer version before I'd've been wondering what this meant.

28th January. Next weekend sees the opening of the NatWest 6 Nations Rugby Tournament. Here's the fixture list. I've said it before but to me it's the highlight of the sporting calendar. Forget Wimbledon, the Indy 500, the Americas Cup, the UEFA Champions League, the Ryder Cup, the Superbowl, Strictly Come Dancing (!), whatever - all pale into insignificance compared to this.  

There's a recurring theme that runs through life down here - and it's one that's very welcome. 

When we used to make our greatly-anticipated trek to the Pays Basque every summer, we'd stay at the same little hotel/restaurant at Ascain, where we were treated like family. It wasn't long before I would regularly be offered a complimentary digestif - usually a generous glass of Marc d'Irouléguy (strong enough to fire a Buick into a low earth orbit) - with my after dinner coffee. Curiously, I never had any problem getting off to sleep there.

And, as we left on our last day, the owner would always tuck a bottle of wine under my arm  saying, "Think of us when you drink this.."  

The waitress at our favourite seafood restaurant in Socoa now offers us an apéro on the house each time we go there. 

Then I mentioned a few weeks/months ago about the lady in the wine shop in Bayonne who gave me a miniature of "Bastille", a new French single malt whisky (right), to try.. 

Then the other day when I'd been dispatched into town to pick up some boudins blancs from Montauzer, I found myself in line behind a young lady who, in between making her mind up in a long and complicated order, was being questioned by the assistant - as to where she was from etc etc. It turned out she was from mainland China, and she'd been working in Versailles for a year. She spoke French well too.. (oops, I thought!) While her order was being made up, my eyes ranged over all the mouthwatering products on display. Foie gras - mi-cuit (half-cooked) or sealed in jars, terrines, rillettes, all kinds of sausage including the truffled boudins blancs I was after.. either fresh or 4 in a vacuum pack. After the girl left, the assistant said to me that all kinds of nationalities came in the shop. Her ears pricked up during my response and then she was away again with "how long had I lived there?", plus a word or two of praise for my French (always welcome!). What gave away my nationality was me saying "OK" (instead of d'accord). Anyway, to cut to the chase, after buying the boudins, she asked me what I thought of jambon Ibaïama (right). I found out later that this was the ne plus ultra of Bayonne hams. When I admitted to not knowing what it was, she took a leg of ham to the slicing machine and ran me off a slice. This she wrapped up in silver paper and gave it to me. (It costs 56€ a kilo by the way!) They're a generous people down here.

27th January. "One of those things" Department! I woke up this morning thinking about the high-flown language used to attempt to describe the taste of wine. (Don't ask me why) We've all read those columns in newspapers where the journalist strings together a list of various carefully chosen oddities (a dusty drawer, pencil shavings, liquorice, woodsmoke, boat varnish etc etc) in trying to capture in print something so ephemeral and transient as the taste or a flavour (wrong word maybe) of a glass of wine.

The problem is that the printed word enters the brain through the eyes - whereas the taste is captured instantly via the tongue and the nose. It's then correlated with our mental taste memories*. Tasting can't be done in print. It can't. For example, take an everyday object such as a carrot and attempt to describe the essence of its taste - in words. Very quickly, you'll realise that you're wasting your time. All the writing in the world can't describe the taste of even a boiled potato. What chance then has the wine writer got in trying to describe the subtleties of a glass of wine? There's only one way - it has to be tasted. Form a queue please!

I once heard a memorable expression that someone used to describe a sublime taste - he said, "C'est comme un ange qui pisse sur la langue..". Probably not a good idea to use that one when the vicar's there.. A more polite expression was "That has the taste of not enough!".

* In my view, our memories work best for visual images and sounds - and less well for tastes.

We've just had the last of Monsieur Montauzer's justifiably famed truffled boudins blancs, (no other will do) accompanied by sauté'd apple slices.. For reasons that escape me, he only makes them over the festive period and that is rapidly drawing to a close. And bearing in mind what I've just written in the paragraph above, I won't attempt to describe the taste!   

26th January. Sighs of relief all around.. Nutty's having his stitches out this afternoon (slightly sooner than anticipated) and so we can all wave goodbye to the plastic conical collar he's been wearing for a week. I know it's been annoying him - and it's certainly been shredding our nerves as he's banged his way around the house. So, it's back to business as usual this afternoon. Phew! By the way, the rain is still with us. I escaped a soaking by a matter of minutes when I took him out this morning. And the e-bikes are still locked away in the garage!

The association I work with had a monthly committee meeting two days ago at Biriatou, situated right on the Spanish border. (The Comet Line was a WWII network set up to help shot-down Allied airmen to return to England.) As luck would have it, we had sun and blue skies for once - we soon forgot the grey skies and rain of the past month and it reminded us what a beautiful part of the world this is.

I arrived in good time as I wanted to re-visit the memorial site (right) we had inaugurated in April 2016 for two wartime evaders who, tragically, were drowned while attempting to cross from occupied France into Francoist Spain. They were part of a ten-strong group who arrived on the banks of the Bidassoa, in flood, at 1am during the night of 23/24 December 1943. They would have been hot and tired after their 4 hour hike over the Pyrenees and during an ill-advised attempt to cross the Bidassoa, two evaders were swept away in its fast-running cold waters.

There had been a memorial to one of the evaders - Count Antoine d'Ursel - at the riverside for many years. The photo (left) shows the memorial being installed on the steep river bank in 1960. However, in recent years, its foundation started to crumble, plus it was barely visible. In researching the history of that night in 1943, I became aware that no memorial had ever been provided for the other evader, 2nd Lt James F Burch, a USAAF B-17 pilot - and so we decided to rectify that. (Jim Burch was the only aviator to lose his life while in Comet's charge). It was decided to move the Count's memorial to a new site where it would be co-located with that for Jim Burch.

We selected a suitable location for the new combined memorial site and a team from the Town Hall at Biriatou cleared the ground and did all the hard work of moving the Count's memorial to it. As it weighed some 300kg, this was no mean feat.

I always find it to be a moving experience when I visit the site and it was no different on Wednesday. I'm always struck by the stillness, the tangible poignancy and the air of peace there. I had another committee member with me - a Basque - whose father had been a wartime Comet guide in the mountains, helping some 130-140 Allied aircrew to escape to freedom. He remarked on the atmosphere there too. It's a special place - and it's situated in the patch of green at the centre of this link. If you wish to experience the slightly precarious 4km drive back to Biriatou, turn right at the above link and follow your nose. This is a photo-montage I put together that tells the story:

22nd January. At this time of the year, with Burns Night (25th January) fast approaching, I find that my thoughts turn unbidden to visions of a hot steaming haggis (right).. served with tatties and neeps - and accompanied by a dram or two - never wine. One memorable Burns Night saw me drinking whisky before, during and after the meal - and, apart from me trying to take my trousers off over my head at bedtime, I suffered no lasting ill effects - my head was as clear as a bell the following day. (Realism check: I doubt that I could do that now - even if I wanted to!)

Madame shares my fondness for the haggis and so the other day I thought I'd see if I could find someone online willing to supply me with one. I found the very thing - until I asked what the postage here would be. The haggis itself would cost around £7-8 but the crippler was yet to come - they wanted £29 (and change) to post one from Scotland to here. If you haven't ever experienced a Burns Night, they are memorable occasions.. and having been to one, you'll be wanting to attend another. 

There's a classic chauvinistic French joke &bout the haggis:

A Frenchman, a lover of good food, was invited to a Burns supper by a Scottish family, and at the end  of the meal, the hostess - in search of compliments from a Frenchman – asked him what he thought of the "haggis".

The Frenchman, pushed to the limit, replied: "When I saw it arrive on the table, excuse me, but I thought it was sh1t (let's call a spade a spade).. But - once I had tasted it, my only regret was that it was not"..

And this from a nation that eats andouillette.. (if you're ever offered it, think about saying no.. unless you're feeling very brave.. and have no sense of smell)

While Nutty and I were at the vet's the other day, he sat himself on the scales there in the waiting room. He now weighs in at a healthy 14.2kg (31lbs) - and all of that is muscle and bone.. He's an enthusiastic eater but he doesn't restrict himself to the all-in-one biscuits that he devours twice a day. Oh no, he actively searches out food wherever he can. Out in the street, he becomes a canine vacuum cleaner - he's lightning-quick to spot discarded paper handkerchiefs (don't ask me how I remove them from his mouth - ugh!) while chewing gum is another favourite. The Christmas tree briefly attracted his attention but since that disappeared, he's discovered new avenues of pleasure! There's a wicker laundry basket upstairs and it appears he's found how to dislodge the lid.. as he was caught late in the act of destroying one of Madame's soutien-gorges the other day. The chairs in the dining room have some tie-on cushions and - yes, you've guessed it - these too were nibbled. Shoes cannot be left at ground level.. they have to be hidden. A Persian rug in the study had one of its corners "rounded off" by him. He's also discovered that, if he stands on his hind legs, he can reach the kitchen worktop.. Then there's the garden. Shrubs, flowers, pot plants et al have all been tried. All of this has taught us that we have to 'up our game' to try and stay one step ahead of him by removing all potential food sources from his reach. And so it goes..
    
To take (y)our minds off the wintry weather, here's a reminder of some of the delights to be found here in the Pays Basque..

"Ostalapia"

We've been to "Ostalapia" a few times - it's an uber-stylish restaurant with great food, and while we've always enjoyed ourselves there, my one reservation about it is that it's out in the middle of the countryside. Not "in the middle of nowhere" but perhaps closer to the middle of nowhere than you'd want to be. After your meal there, it's a case of jumping back into the car because that's it! There are no cafés nearby for a late night coffee or whatever. The plus side of its location is that it's off the well-trodden tourist trail.. Out of season, it's perfect - however, it attracts a very different clientele during the peak 2 months of the summer season. The first time we visited it was during one summer and I must admit that we were put off a little by the rows of flashy cars outside (mostly from Paris & Bordeaux) and by the sound inside of a roomful of exuberantly bronzed, blinged-up, perfumed and expensively attired beautiful people all talking (with no-one listening) at the same time. It all depends on what you prefer. Anyway, see if Julie (below) can change your mind:
Here's another of Julie's programmes on the Pays Basque.

21st January. Still waiting for a suitable break in the weather so we can take the e-bikes out without getting soaked. I was down at the beach yesterday with the dog and there was a mighty wind from the south-west blowing in. It was cold too.. (OK, not cold as in Nebraska - but nevertheless..!) The pooch is sporting one of those conical collars at the moment. He'd gone to the vets on Friday to have a small growth (nothing serious) removed from under an eye. The house is now echoing to the sounds of crash-bang-wallop as he negotiates his way past doors and furniture. It has to stay on till the end of the month while the stitches heal.   

Peter Mayle 1939-2018

19th January. Farewell, Peter Mayle. I was saddened to read of his demise in the news this morning. He famously "discovered" the Luberon and wrote very amusingly about his experiences there, and in doing so, I think he inspired many baby boomers to follow suit. It's no secret that some/many (delete as required) Brits have a love/hate relationship with France, born out of centuries of mutual distrust. Peter Mayle committed the ultimate sin for a Brit - he actually admitted to preferring life in his beloved Provence to that of his home country. For many Brits, this was unforgivable.. Yes, France is a nice place to visit for holidays but to live there?! Good Lord no.. How many times have you heard someone express the view that "France would be OK if it wasn't for the French.."*. As a result, his books often took a hammering from certain critics who, in my view, were greatly displeased by his having opened up and popularised "their" Provence with the middle classes - and worse.

* What they choose to forget is that France didn't spring up fully-formed from the primeval ooze - it grew into the country we all love today thanks to the tireless work of countless generations of Frenchmen and -women who went before us. You can't have one without the other - and I for one would hate to see France transformed into Bournemouth with sunshine.. From my experience of living here for 10 years, I simply don't recognise the tired old stereotypes of the grumpy restaurant owner or the surly waiter beloved of the English tabloids.    

If you're unfamiliar with his work, I would recommend that you read the opening chapter of his book, "Bon Appetit! Travels with knife, fork & corkscrew through France.". I think this brief encounter with France when he was a young man marked the beginning of his life-long love affair with France. I had a similar Damascene conversion when I had my first rare steak-frites at the age of 18 - I wrote about it here. He and I were of fairly adjacent generations and his observations of post-war English food are spot-on in my view. He was clearly a contented man.. as evidenced in this interview.

I once sat at an adjoining table in a restaurant to an English family on holiday here years ago. On examining her plate (in the manner of a forensic pathologist), one of the ladies exclaimed, "It's not quite what we're used to, is it?" I silently despaired. Isn't that one of the points of foreign travel? To experience and enjoy different sights and sounds, tastes and experiences? I'd better stop here before I say too much!☺  

RIP Peter and thank you.               

14th January. In case either of my global readership (you know who you are!) imagines that life down here is one merry round of lotus-eating, interspersed only with the quaffing of fine food and wine, all taking place under rustling palms in a sub-tropical climate, then watch this - this was Biarritz on New Year's Day:
     We're still seeing the tail end of these winter storms - I think we've only had a couple of dry days since Christmas.

galette des rois
à la frangipane 

couronne des rois

It's traditional at this time of the year here in France to eat either a galette des rois à la frangipane or a couronne des rois. (it's all explained here) At Pipérade Towers we'll be having both this afternoon as we've invited our next door neighbour over. She's well into her 90s and lives alone but she's very active. Madame had ordered a couple from a pâtisserie (right) in an arcade in the centre of town and I was 'volunteered' to pick them up. On arriving, I was surprised to see that, despite the pouring rain, there was a sizeable queue that stretched out of the shop onto the pavement (fortunately under cover). I think I was about 12th in line and I settled down for a long wait - but many people had put orders in and the gift-wrapped galettes were soon flying out of the door!    

11th January. This song by David McWilliams popped up on the radio today.. He appeared from nowhere - made this record (which was played to death on pirate radio Radio Caroline in 1967) and promptly disappeared again.

        

There was a banner headline over an article in today's left-leaning Guardian newspaper: "Number of Britons applying for French citizenship rises tenfold in three years". On the face of it, this "disclosure" would appear to imply that hordes of expat Brits in France are thus validating the newspaper's anti-Brexit stance. This is nonsense.

In googling the background to this "story", it was a simple matter to establish that this was - in the immortal words of the current US president - fake news. While I’ve not been able to find an accurate figure for the number of expat Brits resident in France in 2017, according to a French Wiki site there could be around 400,000 of us here. (although this seems a high figure to me) According to Le Figaro, some 3173 of them applied for French nationality in that same year. That’s only about 0.8% of them. Doesn’t seem quite so big now does it?! It's hardly a tsunami..

If the expat Brit population would be nearer 200,000 (a figure I’d be happier with), the number applying would still only represent 1.6% of us. In other words, the number of Brits applying for French nationality would rise from the statistically invisible to the infinitesmal. These are negligible percentages and hardly the basis for the Guardian's shock horror report.. Imagine the impact if the story was reversed.. 99% of all Brit expats in France have no intention of seeking French nationality? (Note to The Guardian: must try harder!)

9th January. I've been hors de combat these last few days due to a seasonal flu-like cold - which means I've been exploring every combination of sneezing, wheezing, coughing, blowing and spluttering known to mankind (bearing in mind that man pain is that much worse than any other kind!☺). It's kept me indoors more or less since the turn of the year - which was probably no bad thing as we've experienced some very wet and stormy weather recently. Closing the upstairs shutters during a wet and windy night had its moments!

2nd January. I'm only 3 years behind..! The making of "Happy" videos mushroomed on a global scale 3 years ago.. see here.

1st January 2018. Good morning to all.. I hope you're feeling fine after last night. First of all, whoever and wherever you are, Happy New Year from the Pays Basque. 

Here's something I found to kick the year off in style..  If it hasn't already, I think this will catch on with Generation X or Snowflake kids or whatever those of the millennial generation are called.. see what you think:

(Other versions here of Happy in Bayonne / Biarritz / Pays Basque / Anglet / BAB2*).
* BAB2 = a large commercial shopping centre here.

We're off to our favourite seaside restaurant for lunch.. for some fresh fish and some crisp white wine.. what more do you want? ☺

(Added later: our waitress told us that their last customer left at 8.30am on New Year's Day..!)

238. Greasy Joan weather

31st January. I hope I'm not tempting fate but today could be the end of the longest cold spell we've had since moving here almost 10 years ago. Today, the mid-afternoon temp was up to 20°.. We went to Biarritz and there was someone swimming.. and without a wet suit as well. Hats off to him!

Over the weekend, we went to the cinema twice to see two much-touted films. The first was "La La Land" and apparently it's received the most Oscar nominations of any film - ever. I'm afraid your correspondent thought it was the greatest, copper-bottomed, over-inflated and hyped turkey of all time. Yes, Ryan Gosling (he of the single facial expression) danced well and appeared to play the piano - and Emma Stone - I'm trying and failing to be positive - was in it as well. (that's the best I can do) But - I thought the two had zero chemistry (neither of them convinced) and it was hard to see what inspired the mutual attraction that we were expected to believe in. And that, for a film where the central theme was their relationship, is pretty damning. Royaume Uni - Nul Points.

The other film was "Manchester by the Sea". What to say about this shocker..? I'd say that if you're a borderline depressive and you're actively looking for something that will trigger that final surge of despair needed to push you over the edge - then go right ahead and go and see it - this could be just what you need. However, if you happen to be a reasonably balanced individual, then I'd say steer well clear of it. I'm afraid that I fail to see the point of films like these that wallow in the tragedies that occur in other people's lives.            

28th January. I went into town this morning with Madame to give her a hand with the shopping. Stopping off at Montauzer en route, we picked up some of his fabled truffled boudin blanc sausages.. (mentioned before here). These normally only appear around Christmas-time, so we took advantage of this unexpected bounty.. When served with sautéed apple, they can be safely guaranteed to stop all conversation for as long as it takes to dispose of them.. (They don't show up on his website for some reason) Here's a reminder of this mouth-watering dish that will have you drooling over your keyboard.. (Health Warning: I realise that we're in danger of stepping into the realm of food-porn with this photo)  

27th January. We decided to have lunch out today so we took the free navette (below) into Bayonne and made our way to the slightly-off-the-beaten-track Café du Musée. This is a cosy old bistrot ably run by husband-and-wife team Philippe and Sylvie Lopez (right). Philippe's cooking is always fresh and innovative - the menu changes daily - and there's usually a choice of 3 entrées, 3 main courses and 3 desserts. Sylvie runs the front of house and she takes a genuine friendly interest in all the patrons. If you're visiting Bayonne, this is a 'must'! If for any reason you're not able to reserve a table, and want to trust to luck, then I'd advise arriving early - every table was taken today.

(22nd Mar 2020. Edited to add: Philippe and Sylvie have now left the café du Musée and have taken over La Galupe at Urt. We had planned on visiting but the present confinement has put a stop to that idea.) 

(6th April 2023. Edited to add: It appears that Philippe & Sylvie (above) have left La Galupe..)   

Edited to add: We took the navette to come home and when we got on it, there was only one seat free - and Madame took that one. To my eternal embarrassment/shame, a girl of about 18-20 stood up and offered me her seat - and insisted that I take it. (Tell the truth time: It also happened when we were in the Underground in London in mid-December.) I must have that confused pensioner expression off to a tee!

By the way, the navette runs every 8 minutes on a circular route around Bayonne. It's the ideal way to see Bayonne as a visitor - and, what's more, it's free. (Courtesy note: it's usual for people entering or leaving the bus to say, "Bonjour" or "Merci, au revoir" to the driver.)       

I managed to find a higher-res recording of an ensemble led by the great Dorado Schmitt playing that jazz manouche classic - "Dark Eyes" - at the 2005 Django Reinhardt Festival in New York.. I know I've featured it here before - but it's well worth it in my view! By the way, that's the great Angelo Debarre standing up in the background on the guitar..   

26th January. Final visit to the rhumatologue this afternoon to inject the last lot of gloop into my noisy knees. It's hard to tell if this treatment is doing me any good or not - but from what the doctor tells me, I'll have to have this done on an annual basis from now on. 

Still very cold here - I'm sure the temps were sub-zero just now when I toddled off into town for the bread. There was a keen wind as well which felt as though my face was freezing into a rictus! All character building stuff! On the bright side, the skies are wall-to-wall blue with not a cloud in sight. 

This is the scene at Gourette, a winter sports station about 2 hrs to the south east of us.

Then there's La Pierre Saint-Martin, which is probably the nearest ski resort for people here. Unfortunately, as much as I'd like to go up there, I think it would cause terminal damage to my knees. 

22nd January. I had my annual health check with my GP yesterday. My blood pressure was right in the 120/70 groove and my heart was pounding away like a marine diesel at 54bpm. After running through the results of my blood analysis, it appeared that I had some headroom in the area of cholesterol, so - seeing that we are still in the grip of very cold weather, we decided that a little winter treat was called for at lunchtime today.

Yes, it was raclette time! This is nothing more than a table top grill that - hang on, a picture being worth a thousand words, take a look here (left). Set it up on your dining table, turn it on and while it's heating up, assemble the following ingredients for a classic raclette: for two, you'll need 10-12 slices of raclette cheese, about half a dozen slices of mountain ham, a green salad and a few steamed potatoes and finally a crusty baguette. Slide two slices of raclette cheese under the hot grill and while you're waiting for the cheese to bubble up, ease the cork out of a bottle of whatever and do the necessary. When the cheese is ready, slide the melted cheese over your ham or your potato (avoiding your lap unless you like living dangerously!). While you're eating the first one, put a fresh slice of cheese under the grill. Continue this until all food items have disappeared. This is real comfort food. Probably not a good idea to eat anything in the evening after this! Take a look here at other variations.

20th January. Frosty start to the day here - according to the car* it was -1°C.. Still, it's sunny with blue skies so mustn't grumble.

* A VW - so take it with a pinch of salt!☺

18th January. Still cold (0°C) here this morning. I was in town doing some shopping (a man's work is never started – oops, finished) and my hands were completely numb when I returned. 

17th January. Memory's a strange thing isn't it.. How is it that I can't remember what I came upstairs for and yet - listening to the opening credits of the BBC's "Maigret" series from the early 1960s is as fresh, timeless and evocative as it ever was.. 

14th January. There was a piece on the news this evening about a planetarium that's been opened on the summit of the Pic du Midi.. a peak in the central Pyrenees that's shy of 10,000ft by just a few hundred feet. Just added it to my 'must-do' list!

Mind you, I feel ill after looking at this video of the ascent by cable car.. having been scarred for life by "Where Eagles Dare"..!

We drove down to Socoa yesterday intending to call in at our favourite seafood restaurant - Chez Pantxua - for lunch, but sadly they were closed until February. We had one look at the 23€ lunch menu proposed by their neighbour - Arraina - and seconds later, we were sitting in their cosy enclosed heated terrace from where we could watch the wintry scene outside in comfort.

The weather was disturbed - the house had been buffeted by wind and rain during the night straight in from the bay of Biscay - and while half the sky was blue, the other half appeared to feature every cloud known to man. The sea was boiling up and crashing over the nearby sea wall in towering explosions of white foam. The gusty wind was blowing seemingly from all quarters and occasionally contained large drops of rain or hail. Waves were making it through past the sea wall into the bay.

The menus arrived and our interest in the weather outside evaporated! An hour or so later we emerged blinking into the sunlight after a delicious lunch, happy to have found another restaurant to add to our approved list. Well worth a repeat visit.

11th January. Just back from a visit to the "rhumatologue".. For some time now, whenever I've stood up, my knees have sounded like practice night at castanet class - and so today the doc injected some silicon-based gloop into them. I've another two sessions of this in the next few weeks. On the bright side, I've been put on 'light duties' (heh heh!)..

"Gulp..!"

Hundreds of thousands of ducks are being slaughtered here in south west France in a preventative campaign designed to arrest the spread of a virulent strain (H5N8) of bird flu (la grippe aviaire). It's believed that the virus is spread by migratory birds. It was reported on the lunchtime news that it is active in the Pyrénées-Atlantiques (that's us). Now, as to the question whether or not it's safe to eat the affected species of poultry, the World Health Organisation has issued a statement: "The WHO and other expert bodies, therefore, do not currently consider avian influenza a food safety risk for consumers." Me? I think I'll try and avoid duck in all its forms for the next few months. This will not be easy, living in south-west France. If you experience any of the following symptoms: muscle pain, cough, fever and/or sore throat and you think you might have been at risk, it might be worth a visit to your généraliste (GP).

7th January. The start of the 2017 RBS 6 Nations Rugby Tournament is drawing ever closer. Scotland and Ireland start this year's proceedings - closely followed by England v France on Saturday, 4th February at Twickenham. Unfortunately, Manu Tuilagi, the Samoan-born "one-man wrecking ball", is set to miss the entire campaign through injury. Great pity.. See what he's capable of here:

6th January. It's been an unseasonably cold start to the year here.. (I know.. nowhere near as cold as Wisconsin!) For some odd reason, these lines by Shakespeare, last heard in a dusty classroom many decades ago, are stuck in a recess somewhere in my head and single digit temperatures are usually all it takes to bring them out:

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

(the rest here)

I'm not looking for sympathy but we seldom see temperatures down near 0°C here on the coast so the chill winds of the last few days have come as a bit of a shock to the system.. If I get knocked down, the Accident & Emergency Unit at the local hospital will think I'm sponsored by Damart! By the way, if you're scratching your head over the reference to 'Greasy Joan', take a look at the Shakespeare link!

237. In the almost bleak midwinter..

31st December. Well, here we are again, waving goodbye to another year that's passed by all too quickly. It's been a mixed year for us here at Pipérade Towers so let's hope that 2017 brings all of us better health and happiness.

Best wishes to all of you out there in Blogistan! (looks like the Eiffel Tower below)

30th December. It's hard to imagine that the activity shown in this next video would be allowed to take place anywhere else in the world (and certainly not in the UK!) other than in France. Yes, it's the curious existence of the bouilleur ambulant (mobile distiller). These wandering artisan distillers tow their homemade alambics (stills) - quaint relics from an earlier age - around the countryside in la France profonde converting fermented fruit into eau-de-vie (alcohol) for the farming community. There are fewer and fewer of these primitive-looking but effective contraptions left in France. According to the commentary (ahem), this practice is "strictly regulated".

Now and again, I've come into contact with this homemade 'rocket fuel'. Towards the end of a meal, someone will produce an unlabelled bottle from under the table with a knowing wink and offer to add some to your coffee. I was once given a plain unmarked bottle of this colourless product and I was surprised at how drinkable it was. I've no idea what strength it is but from a cautious sip, I would say at least 50% BV. (I call it C-Stoff!) I'd expected it to taste like after-shave or something similar but I must say that it was smooth and it went well with a coffee. I think that may have been the night I tried to take my trousers off over my head!☺

26th December. Here's a little Christmas treat for me (and perhaps for you).. We were fortunate to have experienced Paris in the 60s in our early days and we still look back on those times with great fondness - they remain very special. Here's a reminder as the incomparable Charles Aznavour spells out this paean to his youth in Paris in La Bohème (English lyrics here):

 

Down to the beach at Anglet this morning for a brisk walk and a quick blast of sea air.. 8°C in still air with some mist over the sea.

24th December. I'd like to wish all those of you still here a very merry Christmas and a happy and healthy New Year..

23rd December. I was dispatched into town earlier on a mission to buy some beurre de baratte. If you're anything like me, you'll have heard of salted and unsalted butter and that's probably the extent of your butter knowledge (ie, good for 2 minutes including questions!). However, I've just learned that beurre de baratte is "butter made the old-fashioned way; churned rather than extracted with a centrifuge". I must admit to never having heard of this "centrifuge" method - I'd always thought that butter was still made by churning - albeit on an industrial scale. We'll see..

Listening to the news that the terrorist thought to be responsible for the Berlin truck atrocity has been shot dead in Milan at 3am this morning, it struck me that someone ought to point out to would-be jihadis that there's one great flaw in their rationale. As I understand it, these 'martyrs' are promised 72 virgins in the afterlife - but maybe they wouldn't be so keen to die for the cause if it was pointed out to them beforehand that this would also mean 72 mothers-in-law..

22nd December. To me, a Mens VIIIs Final is one of the great sporting events and the Olympic Final at Rio in the summer was no exception. Best watched in full screen.

This isn't a good time to be a pig in the Pays Basque. One of our favourite shops in town is Maison Montauzer.. and one of the gastronomic highlights of the next few days will be a lunch of Montauzer's boudin blanc with sautéd apple.. in which I'm afraid Monsieur Porc will play a starring role. This is an annual treat that's greatly anticipated by yours truly.

It hasn't escaped my notice that there's a growing pile of intriguingly wrapped packages under the Christmas tree.. So far, I've have been able to resist having a surreptitious squeeze and rustle of a few of the more tempting ones - but I'm making no promises. Sooner or later, I'm gonna blow! ☺

With only a few days left to run to Christmas, here's a radio station that will help to put you in the festive mood while you search the house for those elasticated waist pants!

21st December. Today sees us 'enjoying' the shortest day of the year.. From now on, the days will get longer and longer until the long-awaited day when my shorts make their public appearance again!  

20th December. Into town this morning to do some food shopping for Christmas - the highlight of which was a visit to the indoor market to buy some cheese. The range and variety of cheese has to be seen to be believed.. I was under orders to return only with a Vacherin Mont d'Or (left) and a Brillat-Savarin (right).. I was sorely tempted to disobey my instructions and return with an armload! One of these days, I'd like to have a meal composed entirely of cheese (from mild to strong.. with wines and bread to match.) Then there were the poultry counters.. selling everything from free range turkeys to guinea fowl, chapons (capons), ducks, geese, pheasant, quail plus others I can't remember. And for English readers, hardly a Brussels sprout to be seen!☺

19th December. Madame came out with another couple of her expressions the other day: "mâtiné cochon d'inde".. and "trois fois rien".. I think the first expression refers to an animal of unknown origin. The second one means three times nothing - or, as we might say: a very small quantity - like zilch or peanuts.

7th December. Feeling in need of some fresh air and, more importantly, a vin chaud, we shot down to Biarritz in the late afternoon. One of the odd things about Biarritz is that there's a distinct absence of cafés with atmosphere - strange but true. We tried a couple of places but with no joy - no vin chaud.. We ended up on the Grande Plage at the Café de la Grande Plage - and settled for a hot chocolate while we watched the sun going down. It was still warm enough to be sat outside on the seafront. If anyone knows of a good café in Biarritz, drop me a line - please!

Garbure

We had a very pleasant surprise last night.. we'd been invited to a friend's for an apéro.. but when we arrived it soon became clear that we were actually going to be treated to something very special instead. Our friend had grown up in Arzacq, a commune that sits astride the border between Les Landes and the Pyrénées-Atlantiques, close to Pau, and one of the regional specialities is Garbure.. (also a great favourite of mine). We were six around the table - and we were served from a huge steaming tureen.. I think it went back to the kitchen twice more to be refilled..! After that, we still managed to do justice to her homemade crême caramel (right).. A great evening!

6th December. I don't often recommend books I've read to readers of this blog - but here's one that you should find a place for. I'm grateful to 50% of my Australian readers (OK, one person!) for recommending James Rebanks "The Shepherd's Life" to me, and I'm more than happy to pass it on. (Thanks for the tip Sue!) This autobiographical account describes in some detail the life of a shepherd/sheep breeder in England's Lake District through the seasons. Health Warning: I don't think a page goes by without sheep being mentioned!

It would be fair to say that my bookshelves are not exactly groaning with sheep sagas of any description. However, in one of publishing's success stories this year, the author's passion for a way of life that came to him through a family involvement stretching back some 600 years jumps off the page as he describes with unexpected lyricism the appeal of working closely with his Herdwick sheep on his beloved land. I surprised myself by enjoying this fascinating insight into the normally closed world of the Lakeland sheep farmer. 

I've only ever seen the Lake District from the perspective of a tourist so this behind-the-scenes look at the harsh reality of farming against a bleak climatic background was eye-opening to me. Here's the man himself talking to ABC Australia's Richard Fidler. (well worth a listen) 

The final words in the book resonated with me: "This is my life. I want no other". I think the world would be a better place if more of us could say this. At the risk of sounding smug, his words express exactly how I feel about our life here in the Pays Basque.

The NY Times takes a look at the man behind the book.

I think there are parallels with the pastoral life here in the Pays Basque. This powerful poem explains the visceral attachment Basques feel for their land and their house:

My Father's House - by Gabriel Aresti, 1963 (translated from the original Basque):

I shall defend the house of my father.
Against wolves, against drought, against usury, against the Justice,
I shall defend the house of my father.
I shall lose cattle, orchards and pinewoods;
I shall lose interests, income and dividends,
But I shall defend the house of my father.
They will take away my weapons and with my hands

I shall defend the house of my father;
They will cut off my hands and with my arms

I shall defend the house of my father;
They will leave me without arms, without shoulders and without breasts,
And with my soul I shall defend the house of my father.
I shall die, my soul will be lost, my descendants will be lost,
But the house of my father will remain standing.

The love for his way of life as expressed by James Rebanks is of a similar intensity to that of our Basque hosts at the gîte we rented on arrival here in 2007. I wrote in Post No 10 that: 

"One Saturday evening, we were invited down for drinks with M and Mme D.. It was still warm and we sat outside. He had a bottle of pastis, a bottle of home-made pineau and a bottle of malt whisky on the table. He speaks French with an accent so strong you could lean on it..! At one point he was talking about his love for his land, his farm and his animals and his eyes clouded with tears.."

If Controller Household asks what you'd like for your Christmas stocking, then assuming there's some financial headroom left after the mandatory bottle of Glenmorangie (as previously advised), see if you can slip in a late request for a copy of James Rebanks' "The Shepherd's Life".

4th December. England finished their season yesterday with a convincing win over Australia at Twickenham by 37-21. It has to be said that England rode their luck in the opening minutes as Australia made a blistering start. But for some close refereeing decisions, the Wallabies would easily and deservedly have been out of sight after 15 minutes of non-stop attacking rugby, inspired no doubt by the need to prove a point after being on the wrong end of a 3-0 series whitewash against England earlier in the year. England had clearly given Eddie Jones a good listening to at half time because after the break they simply blew Australia away and virtually all of the second half was played in Australian territory. The Wallabies are a classy side with many talented attack-minded players - such as the all action Hooper, Pocock, Falau, Haylett-Petty, etc - but I think England had self-belief in spades - and, importantly, a stronger bench.

Australia could rightly feel aggrieved with some of the refereeing decisions.. the replay after a Marland Yarde try was given by the TMO clearly showed it to be a knock on - and I think Haylett-Petty was unlucky to be given his marching orders for a mindless late tackle on Mike Brown. On another day, with another referee, it would have merited just a penalty. Having said that, I think England deserved their win. It augurs well for the Six Nations next spring.

Each time we drive north from here, we pass the turn-off for Biscarrosse after about an hour - and it's somewhere that's been on my "must see" list for a long time. Biscarrosse was once the centre for flying boat operations in France when, for a few short years, many people thought that these magnificent aeroplanes represented the future of aviation - especially on the transatlantic routes. This remarkable aircraft - the Latécoère 521 - (right & below) had six engines - four pulling and two pushing - and it could carry 72 passengers and stay aloft for 33 hours..(gulp!) This manufacturer had some strange ideas.. (see here) Looking at the finished product, it seems to me that the aeroplane was assembled by someone who hadn't read the instructions..

A museum has been established at Biscarrosse to celebrate the golden age of the flying boat in France. Have a look at the Biscarrosse webcam..

3rd December. A splendid lunch yesterday in good company. I'm on the committee of a local association and our president had kindly invited us all to his home for a seasonal lunch. There were ten of us seated around a long table.. and we quickly got up to taxying speed with the aid of some 10 year old Aberlour single malt whisky. 

He told us that the day would have been his sister's 90th birthday. (Sadly, she passed away in June 2015). He showed us a photograph of his sister in happier times with her husband after the war. We raised our glasses to a very special lady.

She and her parents had been actively involved during WWII in sheltering shot-down Allied pilots and helping them to return to the UK via Spain and Gibraltar. They had been arrested in early 1943 and had suffered cruelly in their interrogations and during their subsequent deportation to the hell holes that were the concentration camps of Buchenwald (the father) and Ravensbrück (mother and 16 year old daughter). 

During the hubbub of conversation that followed, this story set me thinking  and my thoughts went back to someone I'd met a long time ago. I'd spoken to the president's sister a few times and I was always struck by her physical resemblance to a lady I once knew on a Greek island in the 1960s. She was a Jew and she had been deported from the island, along with almost 1700 others, via a long and harrowing journey to Auschwitz. Amazingly she survived - and she was one of the handful who returned after being liberated. She lived next door to me in the old town and sometimes I'd hear her screaming during the night. She once showed me a faded blue number tattooed on her left forearm. She had a haunted expression on her face and looked at least ten years older than her husband (who was actually older than her). She'd seen things that no-one should ever see. RIP Maria.

226. Step forward 2016

31st January. We went to see "45 Years" this afternoon at Biarritz.. Reading the reviews (The Guardian, the New York Times and TIME) after having seen the film had me wondering if I'd seen the same film as the critics. Say no more.

I was down at the beach at Anglet again this morning - and as I approached it I could hear a constant basso profundo roar (similar to an airliner during its take-off roll). My first sight of the sea took my breath away.. it was high tide with an on-shore wind and the waves were molto spettacolare.. I wouldn't have liked to have been out in the Bay of Biscay in a yacht.. or indeed any kind of boat.

I thought I'd wind up January with a visit to a favourite restaurant of ours.. it's La Ferme Ostalapia, at Ahetze (just outside Biarritz). It's set in an old farmhouse, with an interesting menu (spoilt for choice) and the atmosphere is stylish yet relaxed. Highly recommended.  

Fortunately for you, it was featured in a programme by TV presenter Julie Andrieu. Don't worry if your French isn't up to it - just enjoy the scenery. (I'll draw a veil over the group's singing of "Hegoak" as they ascend La Rhune..) When a group of Basques get together, it's never long before Hegoak is dusted off! 

Take a look and see for yourself:

Here's Julie having a first flight in a paramotor.. This is something that's been on my "to do" list for some time.. There's a school in nearby Saint Pée sur Nivelles..

28th January. I forgot to mention that the final piece of Christmas pudding disappeared on Sunday.. I might have mentioned before that, for me, the rich taste of this peculiarly Anglo-Saxon Christmas ingredient evokes so many nostalgic memories of Christmasses past. In keeping with tradition, it was dutifully flamed (with a drop of whisky) and savoured. Lips were smacked.. and smacked again! Another 11 months to wait before your correspondent sees its like again!<sob!>

   

24th January. Ever wondered how to say such useful phrases in Basque such as "Please speak more slowly" or (good luck with needing this next one!☺) "This lady will pay for everything"? Look here. Actually, there is a phrase in Basque for that last one - "Emakume honek guztia ordainduko du"..

The forecast for today is for 23°C (73°F).. Apologies to readers in and around Washington DC. We went to Saint-Jean-de-Luz in the afternoon - it was like summer.. the car was indicating 24°.. there were people swimming and all the usual parking spaces were occupied. The town was crowded with people and the cafés were bursting at the seams. As welcome as the heat was, I find it worrying.. what's happening?

This clip I found shows Saint-Jean-de-Luz as it was earlier today.. and funnily enough, the clifftops were exactly where we were.. I think this was filmed later in the afternoon.

18th January. A favourite TV programme of ours is "Les escapades de Petitrenaud” (France 5) and yesterday's edition was set in Cahors, in the Lot, and it had our mouths watering! The programme is presented by Jean-Luc Petitrenaud (yes, I agree, he is a bit precious!) and it featured Le Balandre* - a family-run restaurant (6 generations) which is now firmly pencilled in on our "to visit" list. * Now 'Bistrot 1911'..

And here's Jean-Luc Petitrenaud in the Pays Basque:

   

12th January. The other day I mentioned that we were subject to the occasional violent winter storm here. Last night, I was awakened in the wee small hours by what sounded like a bomb going off directly above the house as a thunderstorm blew in from the sea. I lay there for a few minutes listening to the crash and rumble of thunder mixed in with the west wind shrieking around the house, rattling the shutters as a deluge of water lashed down on the roof. I was glad we'd had the roof seen to not long ago - we replaced all the tiles, flashing and gutters. And so back to sleep!☺

11th January. I won't pretend to have been a massive fan of his work but here are two of his songs that I liked. He was an original.. and there are precious few of those around today. David Bowie RIP

Here he is with "Heroes" version français.. and an organ tribute here.

I came across this next one by accident.. it was always a favourite of mine.. It's the Edwin Hawkins Singers with their great no-holds-barred gospel version of "Oh Happy Day" from 1969. 1969! 47 years ago.. (how did that happen?)

  

The chattering classes have picked up on the black pudding story ('flavour of the month' news story) mentioned below and are now running with the ball.. (more here and here) Over the last few years, I think a major imbalance has grown up between the amount of rolling news media coverage we have versus the amount of news available to fill it.

I'm told that the forecast for the week after next weekend is for sub zero cold..

9th January. Up early this morning and down to the river for the first time in 4 months. I went out in a double sculler and pushed myself a bit to see if I'd have any after-effects around the base of my thumbs.. (I've had a nagging twinge there for months) We did 14km more or less non-stop. If there had been, then that would have been the end of my rowing days. Fortunately, there was no reaction and so next week I'll pay my subs for the remainder of the year. I have to admit to being relieved to see the clubhouse again! (added later: Creaking a bit this evening!)

It was a misty morning on the river with no more than 100 yards visibility - plus we had to keep an eye open for the occasional dead tree that was stuck in the river bed. Colliding with one of these is not fun. The low sun was directly behind us in our wake and it dazzled like liquid gold.

I came across some photos taken by a drone (not today) above the Nive.. The Nive is one of the most beautiful rivers I've ever rowed on - with the added bonus of the Pyrenees as a backdrop.. It's right up there with the Dee at Chester. I think it's worth clicking on these photos to see them at their best.

Ladies VIII

A "yolette"

A "pair oar" in the foreground

8th January. In case anyone imagines that it's all one jolly round of lotus-eating down here, in winter we are often at the wet end of violent storms that blow in from the Golfe de Gascogne (Bay of Biscay). At times like that, I like to get down to the coast to watch things as they unfurl..

Just a few kilometers south of Saint-Jean-de-Luz, an underwater reef causes this monster wave known as Belharra to be thrown up..

Meanwhile, here's a view of what it means to be Basque from "l'autre côté"..(across the border)

7th January. I see that black pudding (left) is now being touted by the chattering classes in the UK media as a "superfood".. I've long been a black pudding fan but all this "flavour of the month" hype leaves me cold.

The equivalent here is boudin noir - aka a dark-hued blood sausage (above). I can't speak for the rest of France but I find the boudin noir in the Pays Basque to be less appetising than its Lancashire (UK) counterpart. There's something about the consistency and texture of the Basque variety that makes me suspect that it contains more blood and less cereal than its Lancashire equivalent that, according to Wiki, "is generally made from pork fat or beef suet, pork blood and a relatively high proportion of oatmeal, in some recipes mixed with grits (oat groats) and sometimes even barley groats." We've had boudin noir several times in the Pays Basque but there's something about its high "wobble factor" (a technical term, m'lud) that I find off-putting. By contrast, your correspondent finds the firmer Lancashire variety infinitely preferable. I suppose it all depends on what you are used to.

All this talk of the boudin noir leads us neatly on to the boudin blanc - a completely different animal entirely. France being France, each region has its own local variation on the theme - as here:

Avranches: Onions, lard, chicken breast, cream, bread crumbs, pork, eggs, salt, pepper. 

(Avranches is in the Manche department, Normandy, on the Mont St-Michel Bay)

Castres, Tarn: Half lean pork, half egg panade flavoured with herbs, wrapped in caul, baked in oven.

Catalan or Pyrénées: Greyish white, added eggs and a good deal of herbs

Classic (made throughout France): White lean meat from pork and veal or chicken, pork fat, milk, eggs, sometimes truffles, in pork intestines, 5 to 6 inches (12 to 15 cm) long.

Havre and Normandy style: Light yellow, lots of pork fat with no lean, very fatty, often milk, eggs, bread crumbs, a starch of some kind or rice flour

Mazamet, Tarn: Half pork rind and half panade mixture based on egg, poached in water.

Rethel, Ardennes: Lean meat, pork fat, milk, eggs, no starch or bread crumbs. Has IGP status since October 2001. A "boudin blanc" festival is held each April in Rethel.

Richelieu (made throughout France): Chicken. Sometimes truffles. rich, formed into balls, wrapped in caul fat.

South-West: Pork, breadcrumbs, starch, eggs, a good deal of herbs, beef intestines. about 1½ inches in diameter.

Watch it being made.. (look away if you're of a nervous disposition!☺)

Of course, where there's a great food product in France, it's a fair bet that a Confrérie won't be far behind.. Enter la Confrérie des Compagnons du Boudin Blanc..

Montauzer at Biarritz

Montauzer, Bayonne

The best local exponent of the boudin blanc (in my opinion) is Maison Montauzer. There's a shop in the centre of Bayonne and also a stand at the indoor market at Biarritz.

Former President Sarkozy

Here's former President Nicolas Sarkozy enjoying himself (left) at the small Montauzer shop in Bayonne with MAM. For reasons that are unclear to me, the boudin blanc is only available at Montauzer around Christmas time. We had some on Christmas Eve served with sautéed apple.. (recipe here) A simple dish but one that's incredibly tasty.. maybe because Monsieur Montauzer adds some black truffle to his boudins. Yes, you can find 'industrial' boudin blanc in the supermarkets all through the year, but those of Maison Montauzer are worth waiting for. This dish is one of the gastronomic highlights of the year as far as your scribe is concerned.

4th January 2016. First of all, a Happy New Year / Bonne année / Urte berri on to all my reader(s).. I'm about to commit my New Year's resolutions to print. To be honest, my list has a familiar look about it!

1. Improve my French..

2. Practice my banjo..

3. Use my bike more.

4. Keep my desk tidy (or failing that - tidier)
5. Improve my French..
(file these under 'Fiction')