185. The Big Makhila

8th May 2012. Much of France is closed down today as it's VE day. I stopped at the Monument aux Morts (right) on my way to buy a baguette as there was a ceremony imminent - a contingent of élite 1er RPIMa soldiers (Special Forces) from their citadelle across the Adour were present as well as anciens soldats with their standards from former times and conflicts. At previous ceremonies like this that I've seen here, the music was presented via a CD player or a very small number of musicians. Today was different - a military band did the honours and, as usual, the dry rattle of the sidedrums and the blaring trumpets during the Marseillaise sent a shiver through me..

More stirring stuff from the Biarritz-based Basque choir Oldarra:

This clip originates from across the border in the Spanish Basque country..

I think you have to be Basque to appreciate some aspects of Basque culture..

I've mentioned 'Makhilas' before here but without really going on to explain what they're all about. A Makhila is a traditional Basque walking stick - but with a difference..! They're made of medlar wood (néflier in French) - a highly resistant, dense and durable hardwood that is often engraved. The lower part is finished with a decorative ferrule while the top part is fitted with a hand grip - often of tightly woven leather - topped by an ornamental pommel. A quick twist of the handgrip removes it to expose a short spike - thus converting the walking stick into an instant weapon. They are hand-made and made-to-measure - the craftsman taking into account the owner's height and weight. 

No two are the same. They are highly prized and often offered as presentation pieces to mark a special occasion.

The wood of the slow growing Medlar tree is hard, even, fine grained and polishes well and is reported to be practically unbreakable. The wood has practically no commercial value as the tree stays relatively small and its branches aren't necessarily straight. Because the wood is hard, it has been used for spear points, hunting and warfare clubs, fighting sticks and making windmill parts - especially some of the wooden gearwheels. The process of making a Makhila starts in the spring with the carving of lines on a living branch of a tree that's at least 15 years old before harvesting the branch in the winter. Over the summer, the design of the carving expands with the growth of the tree. 

The bark is removed and the branch straightened with the aid of the heat of a kiln - this operation requires a great deal of skill. The wood is then allowed to dry naturally for several years after which the wood is stained using family techniques handed down for generations. The stick is finished with made-to-measure decorative fittings which are cut, carved, braced and decorated pieces of brass, silver, German silver or gold. As noted above, the handle is either metal or tightly plaited with leather strips and finished with a horn or worked metal pommel. The handle can be easily removed to reveal a forged steel spike. Traditional Makhilas are inscribed with a short verse of the owner's own symbolism in Basque. The making of a Makhila is a tradition passed down from father to son and there are very few Makhila makers left. I know of only two - one here in the centre of Bayonne and another at Larressore.

Scroll forward to 10:44 on this next clip to see Makhilas being made at nearby Larressore:
I noticed with a start this morning that the Caisse d'Epargne building (that I mentioned in post # 182) in the historic centre of Bayonne is being demolished! The mayor must obviously be an avid reader of the blog!

Changing the subject just a little, I noticed the other day that McDonalds here are now selling a McBaguette!

(NB: McDonalds is known as McDo here - pronounced McDough) All of this reminded me of that memorable dialogue in "Pulp Fiction" between Vincent and Jules on the cultural differences between the US and Europe:

It's 28 in the shade here this afternoon - where did that come from..?☺ 

This week's special offer is a free trip over the Pays Basque in a hot air balloon (or un vol en montgolfière as it's known here). It's best in full screen:

 

10th May 2012. Forecast to be 32 this afternoon - the temp's soaring past 29 in the shade at the time of writing (1pm)..

Thirty minutes ago at 5pm it was 33½° in the shade in the garden.. phew! The dog's re-discovered the pleasure of lying spread-eagled in all his favourite cool places in the house.

12th May 2012. We had the house double glazed 2-3 years ago by a charming couple who run a company based at Saint-Jean-de-Luz. (highly recommended) They came and measured up before returning a few weeks later to fit the new windows. They finished in 1½ days and left the house spotless. A couple of weeks ago we received an invitation from them to an apéro-dinatoire to mark their 1st year of business at their second shop they've opened at nearby Anglet. As they know we don't require any more windows it was just a nice friendly goodwill gesture. We went there yesterday evening - there must have been 20 or so other happy customers - and we had a very pleasant evening.. There was a beautifully presented selection of food - plus various drinks - soft drinks, wine, rhum-based punch, whisky, pastis etc etc. When we left, they gave us a complimentary umbrella and a sports cap.

This morning I was all set for an outing in a beautiful Swiss-built wooden shell coxed IV.. we'd got as far as putting the boat on the water and we were sitting in it when someone had a technical problem which meant we had to change boats. The only boat remaining was a glass fibre yolette (left). Wider and heavier than our more usual boats, these are what beginners here usually start in. I have to say I wasn't looking forward to the sortie but once we'd heaved it off its rack, put it on the water and set off I was pleasantly surprised. We were a mixed ability crew - which I approve of - two of the guys had only taken up rowing last October. I was at 'stroke' and as we headed off up-river - the last boat to leave the pontoon by some margin - I was immediately impressed by how solid the boat felt and soon the boat was running free in the water between strokes with that distinctive sound.

I forgot to mention that the previous Saturday I'd been invited to attend the annual meeting of an association concerned with the Comet WWII escape line that operated successfully in this area. The meeting was held in Hendaye - situated right on the border with Spain - as a gesture to those travelling from San Sebastian. I'm now a committee member. Planning for this year's commemoration is virtually complete with just a few minor tweaks resulting from suggestions raised at the meeting. This year, instead walking over the original mountain crossing route that ran from Ciboure, Urrugne, Bidegain Berri farm, Bidassoa, Sarobe farm, Renteria that was used by Comet up to early 1943, we'll use one of the inland routes (via Anglet-Sutar, Ustaritz, Larressore, Espelette, Dantxaria) that were adopted after the arrests at Bidegain Berri in January '43. This has been thoroughly researched with the families involved and I believe it follows closely the inland routes used later on in the war. In a separate initiative, Philippe Connart, Cheryl Padgham and Geoff Warren conducted their own research and it will be interesting to see how similar the routes turn out to be. 

In conjunction with the descendants of those courageous wartime passeurs, the committee has arranged a splendid long weekend that I'm sure all attendees will enjoy. Apparently, the final day sees a climb steeper than anything experienced on the more traditional route. This should put to rest any lingering fears 'out there' that this year's commemorative march will be but a pale shadow of the traditional Ciboure route.

184. Après moi, le déluge

2nd May 2012. It looks like the weather has finally turned warm and dry again here. In common with much of the rest of western Europe we've been deluged with water here for the last hundred years / well, since Christmas anyway / last month (delete as applicable) and, with the sun up and running, the garden has belatedly started a growth frenzy.

The map (right) shows the average annual precipitation across France. The isolines on this map are called isohyets. Each isohyet connects places that receive equal average annual precipitation. Each band of color indicates places that fall into a range of 100 millimeters of precipitation. Red areas on this map, such as Chamonix and Biarritz, receive more than 1,300 millimeters of precipitation each year. Purple areas, such as Marseilles and the southern tip of Corsica, receive between 400 and 500 millimeters of precipitation each year.. 

I have to mention the lawn here - I know I'm going to regret saying this but at last it's starting to look reasonable with no bare patches. We've tried a number of different types of grass seed before landing on the one that seems to be working best - Gazon Rustique Sud. This is a coarser bladed grass of the type that seems to flourish in the US - hopefully it will resist the baking summer heat better than its predecessors.. And if anyone else out there has been plagued with birds pecking the life out of their garden then I can highly recommend dangling some old CDs in strategic places. I was slightly sceptical about this old trick but since I hung about half a dozen up a week or two ago, the garden has been bird-free - which is a pity as I like having birds around - but, for some unknown reason, they'd been pecking the bejasus out of the lawn.. Tip: Des O'Connor CDs seems to work best!

This cartoon reminded me of the frustration I felt 6 months ago after my PC had a major meltdown due to a virus that I inadvertently let in.. PCs have become such a necessary part of our daily lives as we turn to them more and more - accessing news from all parts of the globe, managing our finances online, linking up with friends via a webcam on Skype and a thousand other things we never dreamed of. Consequently when our PCs have a hiccough, the impact is felt immediately and across a whole range of our activities. This cartoon sums up the feelings I had the last time it happened.  

It's a long time since I've featured a slide guitar here so here goes - it's from that underrated little film "Crossroads":

6th May 2012. Yesterday evening at ~5pm the new SNCF bridge being built to replace the 152 year old structure in the background - built by Gustave Eiffel (yes, him!) - collapsed into the Adour. Full story here. (English  translation here) (Slideshow here)

Bridge in Troubled Water

The Sous-Préfet of Bayonne has been quick to act - for safety reasons, he has closed the river to traffic. That means, for the immediate future, that my former club - Société Nautique de Bayonne - will not be able to row upstream from their position just a few metres downstream of the two bridges and, secondly, rail traffic has been forbidden to cross the old Eiffel bridge just a few metres away.

The two rowing clubs in Bayonne (Société Nautique de Bayonne and Aviron Bayonnais) have co-existed in an uncomfortable relationship since Aviron Bayonnais (my club) was formed in 1904 by a breakaway faction of members from the Société Nautique following the expulsion of an individual for irregular Ugandan discussions (ahem!), perhaps more befitting the former head of the IMF! As the more turbulent waters of the Adour downstream from the Société Nautique don't consistently lend themselves to rowing, the Société Nautique might elect instead to row on 'our' river, the Nive. Who knows, it could even lead to a thawing of the relationship and perhaps a rapprochement between the two clubs. 

183. Spare me the analysis - where do I vote?

23rd April 2012. "Our" old village in the Pays Basque featured on lunchtime national TV news (TF1) today.. yes, it was time for Ascain (right) to hit the national consciousness. TF1 ran a piece that showed how the election voting process was handled in a far distant corner of France - and Ascain is about as far and as distant from Paris as it gets. There, it's the age-old tradition that voters first go to church to refresh their souls (Lord, give me strength!) - after which they repair to the bar of "our" small hotel to refresh their throats (Lord, give me another!) via a pastis or similar (& there's nothing quite so similar as another one!). Having fortified the major relevant elements of the inner man, they then feel up to stepping across the road to the Town Hall to attend to the small business of electing a president.

Election time in France is a curiously low key affair as, unlike in the UK, political posters don't appear in gardens or front windows of private houses, there are no witty bumper stickers and we haven't had a single leaflet stuffed into our mailbox - not a single one! We also haven't had to endure a single doorstep conversation with any party activists either. No, here it's all left to the broadcast and print media. The degree of media cynicism is remarkable though - a local newspaper shop displays advertising placards outside for national magazines and under a picture of the leading presidential candidates one magazine front cover asked "The biggest lies of the campaign - Who lies the most? Who lies the best?"

You'll be pleased to hear that there'll be no more election coverage here as I'm sure - if you're anything like your correspondent - you've had it up to here with politologues (political journalists) speculating over the minutiae of the political news. Suffice to say, win or lose, the talking, forecasting, denying, analysis, accusing, speculation, interviewing, extrapolating and prognosticating will carry on for a few more months yet until we're all brain dead with electrocephalagrams that will look like a drive across the prairies - because that's just the way politicians like us..!

France and Germany share a joint TV station known as ARTE and the following video is one of their productions. It features Aquitaine - which is the region of France where the Pays Basque is found. The film's starting point is the Pays Basque - and it covers pottoks (the wild ponies of the Pays Basque); Sare - where there's a piece on Pelote basque; the famous restaurant Chez Margot at Socoa (just across the bay from St Jean de Luz); Larressore - where they still make makhilas (I must get around to explaining these one day) and then it's up to Les Landes and an inside look at Course Landaise.. There's more but I haven't watched it right through myself yet.

 

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!