182. Rain-fuelled rant!

18th April 2012. I came across this old map (below) the other day in a document someone sent me. I would say it must date back to pre-war times. What I find interesting about it is the amount of green space that lies between the towns to the west of the RN10 (highlighted in red).

Today, much of that has been built up and driving around the area, I'm constantly reminded of this as developers are steadily building on every available plot. Where vacant plots don't exist, existing buildings and often houses are torn down so that revenue-earning apartment blocks can be erected in their place. Nowadays, the three towns of Biarritz, Anglet and Bayonne that, pre-war, were completely separate are now effectively one and it's now known as the Agglomération Côte Basque-Adour. Try saying that with a mouthful of Gâteau Basque! This is one area of France where there are more buyers than sellers and my guess is that the nationwide drop in house prices that was reported yesterday won't apply here.

We spotted the new Cité de l'Océan (below) the other day when we were down on the sea front at Ilbarritz.. I've always thought that architects here in France are capable of creating the most stunning buildings or structures. They are equally capable of erecting the most monumental eyesores - like the one below.. (is that a building - or the box it came in?)

In the first category I would place buildings such as the dazzling Louvre Pyramid - conceived by I. M. Pei - that has more than a touch of genius to it. In my humble opinion it sits perfectly in front of the Louvre - and it looks as though it's always been there.

Then there's the breathtakingly hypnotic viaduct at Millau - designed by Norman Foster. This most elegant of structures defies the imagination in its extreme simplicity and, on seeing it for the first time, most people are reduced to an awed silence as they goggle at the bridge stepping out across the void with seemingly little to support it. To lend some scale to the picture, some of the support towers are higher than the Eiffel Tower.. Truly stunning.

In the second category are those that (in my view) miss the target completely. Examples? Well, close to home, there's the branch of the Caisse d'Epargne (savings bank) at Bayonne that, if only it was nearer the sea, could be offered to the Navy in times of national need to serve as a submarine pen. Built in the historic quarter of Bayonne, a few paces from the ancient cathedral, it's a deliberate slap in the face of history and without any redeeming qualities at all. Well, maybe one - the roof keeps the employees dry. (Happily, it's been demolished since I wrote the previous paragraph and some apartment blocks are going up in its stead).

Then there's that monument to industrial quantities of reinforced concrete - the Ministry of Finance, Bercy (below) in Paris. Again, brutal, squat and with a brooding mass, it straddles the riverside boulevard and juts out into the river Seine. It could well be George Orwell's Ministry of Truth (from his novel Nineteen Eighty-Four) What on earth were they thinking of..? No question - this has a top 3 place in my list of buildings that would be greatly improved by demolition. 

Then we come to the Pompidou Centre - or, as I like think of it, the Emperor's new clothes writ large in 15,000 tons of steel and 50,000 cubic metres of reinforced concrete. Again - what were they thinking of? There's a kind of intellectual arrogance at work here that says if you dislike the building/structure/oil rig (call it what you will) then you must be a reactionary old f**t.

Then there's the Opera at Bastille.. It looks like nothing less than the headquarters of an insurance company or a nuclear power station. Enough said.

By way of contrast, here's the magnificent Opéra Garnier and I don't think I need to add a single word:

When I look at Paris I see one of the most beautiful cities in the world. We have a duty to pass it on to succeeding generations intact - we don't have the right to vandalise it. What will these excrescences say about us to future generations? 

19th April 2012. I've been re-seeding 'this blessèd plot' (aka the lawn) and so far so good.. green shoots have appeared in all the right places. Fortunately April has brought with it many gentle showers - rather than the torrential downpours that we've often been at the receiving end of. The grass is looking green and hopefully this period of wet weather should ensure (ha-ha!) that the lawn has a fighting chance this year!

Just the other side of the Pyrenees lies the small town of Burguete in Navarre, Spain. It's known by some for one thing: it's where Ernest Hemingway lodged in 1924 & '25 en route to the running of the bulls at Pamplona.

The Basque country (on both sides of the border) would have been vastly different in those days with few concessions to tourism and it must have been a real pleasure to travel around it. While the coast has changed beyond all recognition, the inland regions remain more or less intact as they were - even in the height of summer few of the legions of tourists that throng the coastal resorts explore the hinterland. There, it's not difficult to understand the attraction the country had for the author. Here's an extract from "The Sun Also Rises" that describes the moment Hemingway and his friend arrived in Bayonne.

In the morning it was bright, and they were sprinkling the streets of the town, and we all had breakfast in a café. Bayonne is a nice town. It is like a very clean Spanish town and it is on a big river. Already, so early in the morning, it was very hot on the bridge across the river. We walked out on the bridge and then took a walk through the town.

I was not at all sure Mike's rods would come from Scotland in time, so we hunted a tackle store and finally bought a rod for Bill up-stairs over a drygoods store. The man who sold the tackle was out, and we had to wait for him to come back. Finally he came in, and we bought a pretty good rod cheap, and two landing-nets.

We went out into the street again and took a look at the cathedral. Cohn made some remark about it being a very good example of something or other, I forget what. It seemed like a nice cathedral, nice and dim, like Spanish churches. Then we went up past the old fort and out to the local Syndicat d'Initiative office, where the bus was supposed to start from. There they told us the bus service did not start until the 1st of July. We found out at the tourist office what we ought to pay for a motor-car to Pamplona and hired one at a big garage just around the corner from the Municipal Theatre for four hundred francs. The car was to pick us up at the hotel in forty minutes, and we stopped at the café on the square where we had eaten breakfast, and had a beer. It was hot, but the town had a cool, fresh, early-morning smell and it was pleasant sitting in the café. A breeze started to blow, and you could feel that the air came from the sea. There were pigeons out in the square, and the houses were a yellow, sun-baked color, and I did not want to leave the café. But we had to go to the hotel to get our bags packed and pay the bill. We paid for the beers, we matched and I think Cohn paid, and went up to the hotel. It was only sixteen francs apiece for Bill and me, with ten per cent added for the service, and we had the bags sent down and waited for Robert Cohn. While we were waiting I saw a cockroach on the parquet floor that must have been at least three inches long. I pointed him out to Bill and then put my shoe on him. We agreed he must have just come in from the garden. It was really an awfully clean hotel.

Cohn came down, finally, and we all went out to the car. It was a big, closed car, with a driver in a white duster with blue collar and cuffs, and we had him put the back of the car down. He piled in the bags and we started off up the street and out of the town. We passed some lovely gardens and had a good look back at the town, and then we were out in the country, green and rolling, and the road climbing all the time. We passed lots of Basques with oxen, or cattle, hauling carts along the road, and nice farmhouses, low roofs, and all white-plastered. In the Basque country the land all looks very rich and green and the houses and villages look well-off and clean. Every village had a pelota court and on some of them kids were playing in the hot sun. There were signs on the walls of the churches saying it was forbidden to play pelota against them, and the houses in the villages had red tiled roofs, and then the road turned off and commenced to climb and we were going way up close along a hillside, with a valley below and hills stretched off back toward the sea. You couldn't see the sea. It was too far away. You could see only hills and more hills, and you knew where the sea was.

20th April 2012. I remember reading an old saying amongst carpenters, "Measure twice, cut once.." and for some reason I woke up this morning with it in my head. It struck me that that philosophy could be applied to many areas of life.

Before making the decision to move here from England, for example, I remember making a list of the pros & cons for making the move and another list of all the risks. The first list proved pretty conclusive in terms of whether or not a move was the correct decision. As for the second list, all the risks I identified could be managed - except one: the currency exchange rate. As most of our income was in £ sterling, and we were moving to the euro-zone, this had my full attention. I thought the worst that could happen would be that the £ would gradually decline in value against the euro over the years. We were prepared for that eventuality and so we moved across.

Soon after we moved however, the exchange rate turned out to be the very risk that bit us and it bit us hard. In Britain, Gordon Brown (an unelected nobody who was doing Prime Minister impressions at the time) let the pound slump in value - an unprecedented 30% drop - against the euro in a few short months. He didn't declare it a devaluation - he simply didn't call it anything. He just carried on sleepwalking as though nothing had happened. Fortunately, we'd done our planning and we had sufficient flex to be able to live through it - but the importance of planning wasn't lost on us.

If anyone reading this is thinking of making a similar move, I'd say the hardest part is not the move itself, but taking the decision to move. Once you've decided, the rest should happen according to your plan.

22nd April 2012. We've been having a fair share of rain lately and the garden is thankfully sprouting in all directions! I took the dog down to the beach at Anglet this morning - there was a fresh westerly wind blowing in a few showers from the Bay of Biscay, the slate green sea was rearing up in choppy waves and there were a fair number of surfers out there. All very bracing! Needless to say, the dog's ears were horizontal!

181. April showers in the Pays Basque

6th April 2012. Forecast for the morning is for rain, but as they often get it wrong for this corner of Aquitaine, I'll take a peek out of the windows in the morning to see if rowing is on the cards. As it's the first Saturday of the month, it's also the day for an apéro after the outing..

Haven't played any Chet Baker in a while so - to put that right - here he is with Almost blue:

And another - Around Midnight - the classic late night jazz track that Thelonious Monk made all his own - but played here by Chet:   

7th April 2012. A good row this morning - had an outing in a mixed VIII and we did 14km.. Stayed on a bit longer afterwards as it was that time of the month (1st Saturday) for an attitude adjuster! Still haven't got used to drinking whisky at midday though.. Had a quick word with Perle Bouge who was there having a vigorous work-out on a rowing machine. She said she'll be going to the Olympics in July. In case you haven't read previous posts about her, she was involved in a road accident I believe when she was 19 and is now confined to a wheelchair. Despite that, she took up rowing a couple of years ago and won a Silver medal at the recent World Championships in New Zealand. She has a fierce determination to succeed and I hope her efforts will be rewarded this summer.

I know I included this track by Amy Winehouse fairly recently but I make no apologies for putting it in again. She had one of the best female jazz/blues voices of my memory. Such a tragedy that her personal life spiralled out of control the way it did.

Jardin Public, Biarritz (in 2006)

10th April 2012. Situated opposite the magnificent old station (now the theatre) in Biarritz, the Jardin Public used to be a haven of 'coolth' and shade even on the hottest of wind-free summer days when the heat can sometimes wrap the Côte Basque in a clammy embrace like a warm damp blanket. The square was a leafy green enclave shaded by some mightily tall old trees and it was the perfect place to pause on a bench after lunch in the tranquil shade offered by the canopy high above. The dog enjoyed the respite from the hot pavements too and it wouldn't take him long before he'd be 'paws-up' on the grass having a snooze. There were some ancient cedars that spread their limbs out high and wide and others (chestnuts perhaps?) that I couldn't name to save my life. Here it is (left) as it was in 2006.

Unfortunately, a great storm screamed in out of the Bay of Biscay in January 2009 and it devastated the coast from the Pays Basque up as far as Bordeaux - flattening 60% of the endless pine forests of Les Landes. It wreaked havoc with these majestic old trees in the Jardin Public as can be seen here:

Here's a tree going down in that great storm.. 

Now, the Jardin Public has totally lost its former oasis-like quality, as the removal of the trees has exposed it completely to the relentless heat of the sun. While it's no longer possible to sit there in summer and unwind in the shade, it remains a favourite place at other times of the year. If we could afford a house (haha!) or, more realistically, an apartment in the centre of Biarritz, something around here would figure high on our wish list. 

12th April 2012. It's been a while since I've featured a Basque choir and one of the very best is Gogotik.. This particular one by them always sends a shiver through me:

I've been meaning to mention the Musée Basque in Bayonne for some time.. It is a remarkable collection - I believe the largest collection of Basque artefacts anywhere - and no visit to Bayonne should overlook it. It starts off with simple displays of the pastoral life of the Basques and as you penetrate through to the upper floors the scope gradually widens until the full glories of the museum's contents are revealed. (By the way, admission is free on the first Sunday of the month).

I've previously mentioned here the emblematic painter Spanish Basque Ramiro Arrue who captured the stylised essence of Basqueness in his work to such an extent that his vision of the Pays Basque is still shared by many and it endures here to this day. Here's a two-part video about him:    

This next clip features some of the distinctive headstones that may be found in the cemeteries here. They're not sad places, lying forgotten under a few dripping yew trees with weeds rampant - they're kept spotless (like the rest of the Pays Basque) and provide another insight into Basque culture.   

180. First siesta of the year

22nd March 2012. After the shocking events in Montauban and Toulouse were resolved this morning, I think it's time for a reminder that Man is capable of producing works of great beauty as well as the most horrific of crimes. As you listen to Daniel Barenboim conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with the Adagietto from Gustav Mahler's Symphony No 5, spare a thought for the families who are mourning the loss of loved ones:

24th March 2012. It was a lovely warm morning down by the river and there was a good turn-out. I went out in a mixed ability VIII sculler and it's always sorties like these that are the most tiring. I was at 2 (which corresponds to 7 in the UK/US) and the upriver leg was fine. We stopped after 10 minutes to take our warm-up tops off as they were clearly redundant. At the turn-around point, the cox and the stroke changed over and the return leg was - how to say it - less rewarding. We did 14km.

We had lunch outside on the terrace again today.. and I finished up with a Greek coffee and a contemplative cigarillo.. I was still getting over the morning sortie and the heat coupled with a glass or two of wine had me ready for a siesta.

At the end of the afternoon, we went for a drink on the terrace of the bar/restaurant La Plancha (above), on the beach at Bidart, just below the Château d'Ilbarritz (mentioned a couple of posts ago). It must have been 22-24C out there on the terrace. Definitely a new addition to my list.

Here's another look at the Château d'Ilbarritz..
Here's something that sounds as fresh today as the day it was recorded - in 1959!

In case you've ever wondered who the great undiscovered literary talent behind this blog is - pause while the guffaws die down - I've decided to respond to several requests and break cover at last.

Here's a fairly recent photograph of me hard at it at the editorial desk! This must have been taken on a 'dress down Friday' and it looks like the pressures of getting the latest post out and the long working days are slowly getting to me..

26th March 2012. We ate outside on the terrace this evening for the first time this year.. Now where did I put my Eric Morecambe shorts?

27th March 2012. A perfect evening's row up the river on a warm, still evening - shorts and t shirt in the boat for the first time this year. 14km. Once back home, after a quick shower and change, it was straight out to our west-facing terrace for a roast farm chicken eased down with a glass or two of Burgundy. Afterwards, I sat there feeling pleasantly tired in the evening sunlight listening to the sound of birds twittering and the distant hum of traffic as I watched the pale contrails of jets as they sped silently northwards. It was with great reluctance that I replaced the cork in the bottle! As my uncle used to say: you've got to know when to hold, know when to fold and know when to walk away.

29th March 2012. We decided to go to San Sebastian this morning to try and achieve terminal meltdown of my credit card. Don't get any big ideas though - two packets of peanuts would be enough to do that! The first strange thing was that we were waved through the first motorway toll that we came to in Spain.. and then on arrival at our favourite underground parking garage in downtown San Sebastian, it was suspiciously easy to find a space.

Ayuntamiento (or, in more prosaic Anglo-Saxon speak - Council Buildings), San Sebastian

Then when we emerged into the daylight we noticed that every shop was closed. Not only every shop, but also there was not a single kiosk, bar, café or restaurant open. The streets were curiously busy and there were flyers scattered everywhere on the pavements in Spanish and Basque proclaiming that today was a General Strike. Sure enough, we spotted some red flags in the distance as groups of strikers started gathering. Walking through town we half expected to find at least one little dissident café open for business but no - the Basque solidarity was impressive. It was a beautiful day too for bumbling around shops pensioner-style but after a while we realised that nice though San Sebastian is to wander around, there's not much point if everything, as in everything, is closed.

Maria Christina bridge

So it was back to the car and we headed off back towards France again. I think we got away just in time as a massive demonstration was forming up across the river to march into town - and that would cause traffic chaos. The column was at least 20 people wide and it stretched back for ½ mile probably.

By this stage, stomachs were threatening wild cat strike action if food wasn't taken pronto so we swung off the motorway at Saint-Jean-de-Luz and a few minutes later we were installed on the terrace of Chez Pantxua at Socoa. Just look away for the next few minutes while I recall what we had - mmmm-mmmmm - OK, it's safe to come back now! Suffice to say, it's the best place for seafood by 1.6km. (that's a mile to you!) Almost forgot - two hungry strike-breaking Spanish couples sat down at the next table and in a touching display of solidarity with the strikers they started by ordering a bottle of Bollinger* - the ladies had foie gras to start with while the men had oysters..

Madame Lily Bollinger

* It was Madame Bollinger (right) who famously said of champagne - “I drink it when I’m happy and when I’m sad. Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I’m not hungry and I drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it, unless I’m thirsty”.

It was such a beautiful late afternoon that I raised myself from my post-lunch snooze stretched out on the terrace (in swimming trunks no less!) to get changed for an evening row. It turned out that I was the only bloke-type person there and so we put an VIII out on the water. I must say it went very well, apart from a congenital need to stop for a chat at suitable intervals..! Joking aside, it was a very worthwhile sortie and it felt like a crew that had rowed together for some time. So Tick VG from me! Think we did 12km.

31st March 2012. Down to the river again this morning (four times in a week!) and had an outing in a mixed VIII. We rowed as far as Villefranque before turning where another VIII caught up with us. G, our always-cheerful responsable, coach and all-round good guy, who was with us in a speedboat, thought it would be a good idea if the two VIIIs raced each other back to the clubhouse (known curiously in French as the 'garage'). If I was sitting comfortably in a speedboat on a sunny morning that's just the kind of idea that I might have had too! We gave the other crew a head start and then we were off.. It wasn't long before we could hear the splashing of the other crew as we drew closer plus the various incomprehensible shouted exhortations which seemed to consist mainly of "Ensemble!".. (ie, together) - which gave me heart as it indicated that they weren't.. Gradually the stern of their boat came into view and we steadily overhauled them before building a nice lead of 2-3 lengths. About 2km from home, we both stopped for another go. This time we started level and after ten strokes we were up on them and going away. All good fun! Did 18km all in all.

Blew the dust off my shorts and I took them and the dog for a walk after a quick shower.. 31st March too!

I was taking an inventory of the fridge contents after lunch (OK, aka casual thieving!) and I noticed a packet of Ossau-Iraty cheese in the cheese box. If you've been paying attention (Post #179 refers) you'll remember that this is the cheese that's been adjudged to be the Best Cheese in the World.. I might just try some this evening.

1st April 2012. The two local rugby clubs in the Pays Basque aren't having their finest season. Aviron Bayonnais are firmly in the drop zone of the Top 14 and after yesterday's dire performance against fellow strugglers Perpignan (final score 47-9) the only possible conclusion to be drawn is that Bayonne are going to go down. Meanwhile, Biarritz (also down amongst the pond life of the Top 14) played out of their skins yesterday to squeeze a much-needed victory by a 1 point margin against Clermont (who are 2nd in the Top 14). Now where's the logic in that?

4th April 2012. I'm afraid I've been neglecting the broad sunlit uplands of Blogistan lately but, as always, I have a convincing explanation. I've been knee-deep in reviewing, correcting and occasionally re-writing just shy of 1,000 PowerPoint slides on aircraft flight deck instruments of every flavour - some of which hadn't even been thought of when I was last directly involved in aviation.. As you might expect, a thorough understanding of flight deck instrumentation in minute detail takes centre stage in any Commercial Pilots course and so it is that I've been burning the midnight oil lately, wearing a flat spot on my backside, armed with a couple of hefty technical Anglo-French dictionaries, trying to make sense of some of the slides and put them in Angliche.

No-brainer question du jour: "So whyja wanna be an airline pilot, son?"

Young man's dream (or fantasy!)