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.  

32. Spain

We went across the border to Irun in Spain today as Madame was in need of some retail therapy. Her "SHOPPING" low level warning light had been indicating steady red for a few days!

On arrival, we stopped for a hot chocolate at a cafe we'd been to before.. These are the real thing here - made with dark chocolate melted into hot milk - and are highly recommended. Looking around at the clientele of the cafe, it looked like they were auditioning for a Pedro Almodovar film.. There were a couple of middle aged guys who looked suspiciously "light on their loafers" and a number of excessively well dressed women who looked like they each had a story to tell (for a small down payment!). After that Madame went loose to look at clothes various - an activity which I was mercifully spared from - so I walked the pooch around.

I wished I'd brought my camera with me to take a few pictures of things that caught my eye - such as a shop that declared itself to be a Zapateria (a shoe shop in case you're wondering), a shop (in the main street) that curiously just sold domestic internal doors, a bar that advertised strep tease (yes, it was spelt like that), and a cafe that offered hamb urguesas (no prizes for guessing that one). There was a very pleasant square there with plenty of shade provided by plane trees that still had their leaves.

In the middle was a chap sat in a ONCE* booth not much bigger than an old-style red phone box selling tickets for the fabled Spanish lottery. La Loteria Nacional is played every Thursday and Saturday; the Bonoloto, which is drawn every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday; la Primitiva, which is drawn every Thursday and Saturday and the large jackpot, El Gordo de la Primitiva, or "the Fat One" as it's known, is drawn every Sunday. The main prize is a dizzyingly huge number of euros.

Spanish pedestrian crossings are quite novel and show a countdown in seconds of how much time to wait before the display changes from an animated Pacman-esque green one to a stationary red figure.

Back in the car, the outside temperature was reading 24C as we passed through Behobia on the border.. which I thought was very reasonable for 19th November.

Hmm, I think I've just worked out why Madame sometimes refers to me under her breath as El Gordo..

* ONCE = Organizacion Nacional de Ciegos Españoles (Spanish National Blind Organisation)

29. Winter's here (I think)

Sunday, 8th November 2009. More storms last night.. I woke up in the wee small hours following a loud crash of thunder only to find that we'd been joined in bed by the dog (who was shivering for Britain). I lay there listening to all the hullabaloo outside for a while before dropping off back to sleep again. There's something curiously satisfying about being wrapped up in a warm bed while listening to Mother Nature doing her worst outside. It's even better in a tent. I think there must be something about this experience that's tied up with some early folk memory in us that harks back to ancient times. The storm lasted through till around 10 this morning when the clouds cleared to reveal a bright blue sky. While the worst of it has blown through it's still very windy. I think we'll drive to Biarritz this afternoon to see the waves crashing against the rocks..

I walked into Bayonne this morning to pick up the bread and there were very few people out and about. Opposite the Galeries Lafayette someone has set up a hot chestnut stand ("Marrons Chauds") that looks like a small steam locomotive. Winter's here. We've started doing chestnuts at home during the last week or two. Just back from a good blowy walk around Biarritz. I've been meaning to mention something for a while about the pavement (sidewalk for US readers) rules of the road in France.. In England, there's no rule or set side for which way to let people pass who are coming towards you on the pavement. In fact, quite often it's all too easy to end up in a pavement tango.. where you both step the same way left and right and left before finally saying "I'll go this way.." I had it drummed into me as a callow youth that I should always pass on the outside (ie, the road side) if approaching a lady. This can complicate things. Here, the rule of the road applies.. you always let people approaching (regardless of gender) pass to the left.. Easy.

We went to Biarritz straight after lunch where the sea was running very high.. with boiling surf and huge breaking waves that crashed with a sudden explosive whumph against the foot of the cliffs by the lighthouse. We weren't the only ones there.. and parking space was at a premium. The dog's ears were horizontal as the wind caught them! It's quite sobering watching a stormy sea - even though in real terms the waves weren't that big compared with, say, the Southern Ocean between Australia and Cape Horn. At times like this, my admiration for those solo round the world sailors knows no bounds. After watching the violent sea for a while, we walked down into Biarritz and along the promenade that we'd been sunning ourselves on - only a week ago. This time, the sea had thrown up on the beach great wobbling banks of foam or spume (good word for after lunch!) about 2 feet thick that rippled in the wind. We found our way to the Hotel Plaza (an ornate Art Deco hotel) where we had a hot chocolate each. This is (another!) one of Madame's favourite places as they make them from real chocolate here.

As we left Biarritz about 4pm to return home, the roads leading into Biarritz were solid with glassy-eyed post-Sunday lunch traffic all eager to see the sea.

Monday, 9th November 2009. Last night we had the last of the thunderstorms and now it finally looks as though the week of rain is over. This afternoon the skies are blue and the pavements are drying out.

One good thing - my new grass is growing.