70. Road to Laredo

8th July 2010. Last Monday we decided to make a foray into Spain - aiming for a place called Laredo (Cantabria) situated between Bilbao and Santander along the northern Spanish coast. We took the new motorway (a combination of the E-70 & the A-8) - a spectacular and, no doubt, expensive road that threaded its way left and right through and around the tree-covered crumpled hills and jagged mountains. Cutting its way through contorted layers of stratified rock that were near the vertical in places, the road passed through innumerable cuttings and tunnels and over some impressive bridges and viaducts. The severely folded landscape left precious little room in the valley floors for expansion in an outward direction and therefore the cramped towns and villages had  to resort to making extensive use of apartment tower blocks - which looked slightly incongruous. The road itself was a continuous series of curves and bends and it was hardly possible to take my eyes off the road ahead. I drove at ~100km/h despite the speed limit being 120km/h which, given the twisty nature of the road, seemed a little optimistic.

If ever there is an international competition for the town or city where the planning process has clearly broken down and the result is a complete eyesore, then Bilbao would be an odds-on 'cert' to reach at least the semi-finals. This (below) is the Bilbao Exhibition Centre and the photo doesn't reveal its true awfulness.. It looks rather like one of those regional logistical depots for a major supermarket chain.. but in the middle of town.

Is this a museum or the box it came in..? Joking..! All observers seem to agree that this - the Guggenheim Museum - is a stunning looking building that we still have to visit.. (Edited to add: Madame since been there - but I can't see how we can both get there with the dog).  

To be fair, we only drove through and we didn't get to explore the old town which is clearly alive and well:

Moving swiftly on, we soon left Bilbao behind us and off to our right, we caught glimpes of the lapis lazuli sea. Arriving at Laredo, it's clear that the hotel and apartment building boom of the 70s and 80s in Spain hadn't passed Laredo by. It had obviously once been a delightful old fishing port with a natural harbour but the new part had increased its size perhaps eight-fold.

Lunchtime approached so we found a restaurant with a cool terrace. I felt like declaiming to the waiter in booming Shakespearean tones: Go, get thee in, and fetch me a stoup of liquor*. Instead, we ordered their set 12€ lunch, which included a welcome bottle of chilled rosé, of garlicky gambas followed by an assortment of grilled fish, squid and yet more gambas on skewers.. with ice cream afterwards and coffee. 

* lines from Hamlet I think

This absolute shower (or shar as Terry-Thomas would have pronounced it) - aka ZZ Top - were playing at Les Arenes (the bullring) this evening. Unfortunately we live just a few hundred metres from it and so we had to endure an evening of total carp (sp?) played fortissimo..

69. Mystery in faded ink

4th July 2010. Madame has a number of her father's books - one of which is Saint-Exupéry's Wind, Sand and Stars. Her father earned his pilot's wings in the mid-1930s in the Armée de l'Air (French Air Force) and, like Saint-Exupéry, later served in North Africa with the Free French where apparently they knew each other. Saint-Ex's writings on aviation would, no doubt, have been close to his heart.

I picked this particular volume out of the bookcase this afternoon and, on opening it, I found a poignant inscription written on one of the opening fly sheets:   

For Tooks -

I think this may do for reading in our hut by the sea. I hope you like it as much as I do "Island in the Sun". With love from K.S.M.

                                                                                                                                             Summer 1940

(click on the image to enlarge it)

Who knows now who "Tooks" and K.S.M. were.. It sounds to me as though Tooks was in the flying game - and Summer 1940 was a particularly dangerous time to be involved in it.. I can well imagine that a couple in wartime would invent an imaginary hut by the sea where they could temporarily escape reality during their precious time - together or apart. There's a story waiting to be written here.

In different handwriting - in the corner of the same page - someone, probably a bookseller, has written £7 (1940) 1/5. We'll never know. I did a quick search for "Island in the sun" but I was unable to unearth any reference to it that made any kind of sense - given the date of the inscription. I would guess that Madame's father bought the book sometime in the post war period for £7. 

I stumbled across this little gem on YouTube - a gypsy jazz-style rendering of Dark Eyes - by 3 talented kids - each around 12 years old. Well worth watching!

68. Defecting to Aviron Bayonnais

3rd July 2010. Yesterday, I was aware all day that the date held some significance for me but for long enough I just couldn't make the connection. Until suddenly voilà!* I realised that it was 38 years ago to the day that I joined the RAF. It's no good asking myself where had the years gone because they've gone, and very enjoyable they were too for the most part. Pas de regrets. 

* Or viola as one of my friends used to spell it! "Until suddenly a stringed instrument..."? Naa, it doesn't work does it?

Setting the breakfast table this morning, I had another rare moment of lucidity! I remembered setting the table as a kid - it would be the cloth, then the cutlery and then the salt and pepper cruets. I suddenly realised that I no longer automatically set out the cruets. This is one of the ways in which living here has changed me. I can remember my father showering his food with salt and pepper (I think this was an old army habit from the war) and so we grew up doing likewise. Madame always used to flinch when I did it.. It's one of those habits which is very hard to break but somehow I've managed it.

This morning I went down to the Aviron Bayonnais - the other rowing club in town - for an outing. For the last couple of years I'd been sculling (although they call it rowing in French) and I don't really derive much satisfaction from it. Rowing - or "ramer en pointe" - is with one oar - and it's what I grew up with. It's easier if I let Wikipedia explain the difference!

There are two forms of rowing:

In sweep or sweep-oar rowing, each rower has one oar, held with both hands. This can be done in pairs, fours and eights. Each rower in a sweep boat is referred to either as port or starboard, depending on which side of the boat the rower's oar extends to. Usually the port side is referred to as stroke side, and the starboard side as bow side; this applies even if the stroke oarsman is rowing on bow side and/or the bow oarsman on stroke side.

In sculling each rower has two oars (or sculls), one in each hand. Sculling is usually done without a coxswain, in quads, doubles or singles. The oar in the sculler's right hand extends to port (stroke side)(babord in French), and the oar in the left hand extends to starboard (bow side)(tribord in French).

We took an eight out - it's so long since I've rowed I could hardly remember if I was bow side or stroke side - I guessed stroke side but after a while it didn't feel right so I guess I must have rowed bow side. What a pleasure it was to row again.. We had a good long hard outing - first up the Nive and then back down again and through town (as above) and then on until we reached the Adour where we rowed downriver as far as the "Skat", the stealth gin palace (mentioned in Post #67).

I came back to the clubhouse with my t-shirt wringing wet. We then had a quick apero! And blisters in different places on my hands with the change to rowing. I think I'm going to enjoy this club!

I've often wondered if hydrofoil technology could be applied to rowing and/or sculling and here it is:

4th July 2010. Happy birthday America! And, as a small tribute to that most American of art forms, here's a link to TSF Jazz, an FM station in Paris that plays nothing but cool jazz 24/7. I've just tried it this morning but there appears to be a minor snaggette with their streaming. If you can't get it to work, it's definitely worth coming back to to try again in a day or two's time. If not, this will give you a patriotic fix!

Meanwhile, for all the readers of this blog in the US - this is for you.. the band of the Coldstream Guards playing the Star Spangled Banner outside Buckingham Place in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 (sorry about the poor quality):

And if that doesn't do it for you, then this clip of 150+ kilted porridge wogs (as they were affectionately known in the RAF in those far-off non-politically correct days!) surely will: 

The Duke of Wellington said: "I don't know what effect these men will have upon the enemy, but, by God, they frighten me."

 I love that little flourish at the end!

67. Anniversaries

29th June 2010. I think someone was trying to tell us something..! Today we planned to have lunch out to celebrate a major marital milestone.. This clip is more or less how we met!

We thought we'd try one of our favourites - Bar Jean in Biarritz (mentioned before here) - as the seafood there is always good - and fresh - and there's always a vibrant atmosphere..

However, when we arrived outside, despite 1st July being only days away (start of French holiday season) it was unaccountably closed.

Plan B clicked instantly into action.. This entailed a quick trip down to St Jean de Luz to the open air cafe that operates adjacent to the covered market there - but only when the market has finished for the morning. Again, seafood as fresh as can be - never had a bad meal there and it's great for people watching. Horrors! At 12.55 the market was still in full swing and no sign of his tables and chairs being set out..

No worries - Plan C was launched. This was to try Chez Pantxua in Socoa - just the other side of the bay.. the seafood is the best in the region (IMHO) and there is a fine selection of Basque art (inc. work by the noted Ramiro Arrue) on the walls inside:

Ten minutes later we were staring disbelievingly at the row of restaurants at Socoa - one of which was closed. No prizes for guessing which! 

We looked at all the menus from its neighbouring restaurants before finally settling on one establishment. (no names!). We were shown to a table outside in the welcome shade and there were 2 menus on the table. Within a few minutes we'd decided what we wanted - Madame's selection was gambas followed by lotte (monkfish) while I chose the salade Landaise and the paella - and then we waited and waited for someone to come and take our order. Finally, a waitress turned up. Oh, it turned out that the lotte was off - no more left - so Madame asked for the sole. Also off! So she chose the fish soup. We sat and waited again. And waited some more. The waitress didn't return to ask if we'd like an apero - which we would have liked - nor did she return to put some water or bread on the table. Everything was telling me that we should just get up and leave.. I don't make a habit of this - in fact, I don't think we've ever done it but this time I was getting more and more agitated.. Finally we managed to catch the eye of another waitress to ask for a wine list.. and to order some aperos while we were at it - a kir for Madame and a pastis for me. Ten minutes later, she returned with 2 kirs. Ye godfathers..

When the food arrived, it went from bad to worse.. my salade Landaise was awash in almost neat olive oil; Madame's gambas floated in an oily sauce that BP would have been proud of; her fish soup was watery and my paella was sponsored by BP as well.. Without boring you with all the details, suffice to say that, for the rest of the day, we both felt rotten. What was that about the best laid plans of mice and men..? This was the first time - in 3 years of living in France and in 20 years of visiting the region - that we've had this kind of experience. All we can think is that perhaps the restaurant in question had recruited unsuitable staff for the season.

30th June 2010. While Madame was in town, I decided (perhaps not 100% true!) that the windows needed cleaning; the stairs, the living room and the dining room carpets needed vacuuming; the front path needed sweeping and the dining table needed waxing (I threw the last one in as a freebie).. I worked myself into a lather in the morning heat accompanied by this playing in the background: 

 

More music for a summer's day:

  

1st July 2010. Up early this morning - swimming things on - and down to the beach at Anglet before the sun climbed up too high. We stayed there for 1½hrs and very pleasant it was too. I'd recently started re-reading Peter Mayle's "Hotel Pastis" again, his amusing and enjoyable tale about an adman opening a hotel in the Luberon, and I finished it there on the beach this morning. 

In re-reading the book, I was reminded of the sheer awfulness of the BBC TV series "A Year in Provence" with the late John Thaw in the lead role. I watched about 5 minutes of it once when it was first transmitted in 1993 before switching it off. I can only imagine how Peter Mayle must have cringed and squirmed with embarrassment when presented with such a steaming and odiferous adaptation of his work. This was banal television at its most banal. And while never a fan of the curmudgeonly John Thaw, his selection for the Peter Mayle role was a piece of mis-casting on a truly epic scale. Fine in other roles but definitely not this one. The series is available on YouTube.. I tried watching it again just now and it's still every bit as turgid as I remembered. It has every cliché in the book.. The first scene in France is accompanied by... guess? An accordion playing in the background and cicadas..? Well done. How the humour and deftness of touch of this genuinely funny and enjoyable book was transformed by the dead hand of the BBC into this 33 carat dross remains one of life's little mysteries. Watch it and weep.. (Edited to add: It looks like someone has had a rush of common sense to the head because the video seems to have been removed. Phew!)

    

A mega-yacht belonging to one of the world's mega rich was moored at the bottom of the road this morning. It's the very distinctive-looking "Skat" - it comes with its own colour co-ordinated helicopter (natch!) - and it belongs to an extremely wealthy former Microsoft software engineer (is there any other kind?). All that money from ones and noughts - I guess the tricky bit is putting them in the right order..! 

This was a few evenings ago down on the beach at Anglet looking west:

And finally, a performance of Johann Sebastian Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G-Major (I-Allegro) on a Moog synthesiser.. (pity this is ingrained into everyone's memory as the old "Antiques Roadshow" intro..) I prefer this version:

However, for the traditionalists, here's the same piece played on conventional stringed instruments:

So - which one does it for you?