The French school system gives their students about 10 days of vacation in late October/early November for Toussaint – All Saints’ Day – or in this case, All Saints’ 10 days. With Sarah off from work for the vacation, we decided to take a trip to Basque Country in southern France/Northern Spain. Our itinerary included Bayonne, Biarritz, and St. Jean-de-Luz in France and San Sebastian and Bilbao in Spain.
Our trip started out with a 5AM alarm clock. Living out here in the countryside, the only way to get to a major town – like Angouleme – that has a train station is to take the bus that leaves twice a day for the one-hour ride. Unfortunately on the weekends, the bus only leaves once at 6AM. We waddled to the back of bus and tried to catch some sleep laying down across the seats.
We arrived in Angouleme pre-dawn and wandered around town for all of 10 minutes looking at shuttered storefronts before we decided that this was stupid to be walking around in the cold, in the dark, with nothing to look at, when we could be at the train station where it was warm and breakfast was available. We spent the next 6 hours killing time in various uncomfortable states of repose – lying on the floor, curled on benches – until our train down the coast was ready to depart.
We arrived in Bayonne close to five that evening and found our hotel in the Saint Esprit section of town – refuge to the Portuguese and Spanish Jews forced out of their countries in the 16th century. Bayonne is a University town sitting on the intersection of the Adour and Nive rivers with plenty of bars and restaurants lining the riverfronts. It is also the heart of French Basque country.
If you are like me, you know very little about the Basques with the exception of the news coverage of ETA, the Basque separatist movement. But the Basque people and culture are much more complex than a simple terrorist group – much like the Irish to the IRA and Muslims to Al Qaeda, you cannot define the whole by the acts of a few. I am still only beginning to understand the history with the help of a great book by Mark Kurlansky called “The Basque History of the World”.
Was Magellan the first man to circumnavigate the globe? Not according to the book, which reports that he perished in the Philipines and the journey was completed by a Basque captain. Who was Saint Ignatius of Loyola? The founder of the Society of Jesus (The Jesuits) – an order that runs my alma mater of Fairfield University – and he was also a Basque. And the Basques now? As one sign on a door said “Welcome tourist! Remember, you are not in France or in Spain. You are in Euskera Herria (Basqueland).”
With coastal towns like those we were visiting, it would be easy to forget the troublesome recent history of the region. Beautiful shore lines crowned with majestic views of the Pyrenees, quiet bays and inlets that draw tourists from the slovenly rich to the poor, and food and chocolate deserving of its long-held reputation all served to make this area something quite special.
But upon leaving Bayonne and heading to St. Jean-de-Luz, we ran into fall, or maybe winter. Cold winds and consistent rain drove us indoors for most of the next day. Luckily, St. Jean is known for it’s relaxing environs including Thalassotherapy spas. We spent about 4 hours in a heated pool of salt water from the Atlantic Ocean (and two different saunas) as we watched the rain pour down on the beach. I know, we have a rough life.
That night, we ate at a creperie on the boardwalk – one of few places still open this late in the season. With our savory crepes (I had chorizo and peppers – Sarah had ham and goat cheese), we enjoyed a bottle of Basque cider. Tasted like apple-flavored champagne to me. For dessert, I ordered La DouDou. The waitress gave a knowing nod and smile, “Oui. La DouDou.” Out came my crepe with banana slices and coconut shavings covered in melted chocolate. The waitress then lit a small metal pot partially filled with rum. She poured the flaming concoction over my crepe and it resembled a hot pile of… doo doo. I guess even the French can laugh at themselves sometimes.
From St. Jean, we crossed into Spain to San Sebastian. Famed for it’s half circle bay, the water and beach must make for an excellent pastime during the summer heat. Unfortunately, summer it wasn’t and pouring rain and hail it was. We took shelter in the hostel, local restaurants and any other place we could. Just when the rain let up and we could walk outside for an hour, suddenly it would surprise us again. During this time, I was reading Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises which speaks of many of the towns we visited. Though the majority of the story takes place in Paris and Pamplona, the main character Jack does spend some time in San Sebastian soaking up the sun and swimming in the bay. How I wish it could have been July and sunny.
With the weather acting up in the north, we considered changing itineraries and heading south to Pamplona. The weather was still bad there as well but the deciding factor came one morning on the news when a car bomb at the University of Navarra was set off. It was ETA again. No one was hurt. Possibly they were responding to the arrests of some people 2 days prior with explosive devices in their homes. Signs in various towns along the way proclaimed “Basta!” Enough! And “Necesitamos Paz” We need peace. They have been hanging for many months or years.
We decided to continue on to Bilbao. Sarah began to feel under the weather but we were still able to enjoy the Guggenheim Museum designed by Frank Gehry. Gehry’s architecture is controversial – it doesn’t assimilate to its surroundings, the abnormal forms are wasteful of resources and energy and costly to produce, etc. – but damn if the building is not a magnificent sight to behold. It’s like a giant flower popping out of a neatly manicured lawn, so perfectly out of place that you have to stare at it in amazement, wonder and awe.
The building was the sole reason I wanted to visit Bilbao, and so, in the tourist economy sense, I guess it serves it’s purpose. And although Sarah was sick and at first disappointed with the city, the sunshine of the next day made her change her mind and see that the city really did have some style and character. One of our intriguing meetings of the trip was in an Indian restaurant across the street from the pension we were staying in. The Pakistani waiter stopped to speak with us for a while after business slowed. We spoke about the (then) upcoming Presidential elections for the US. Paraphrasing his broken English, “I hope for Obama. George Bush has been very bad for my country. McCain is probably the same. But Bush was very bad, his father too. Bill Clinton was good people. I liked him. So I hope for Obama.”
The rains returned as we headed back to France to the uber-touristy Biarritz. It’s obvious to see why Napoleon and other dignitaries from across Europe and the world made this one of their favorite vacation spots. The coastline is spotted with rocky crags and the beaches are large, beige and sweeping. One quote I heard went something like this: “When a person is undecided about two beaches at which to spend time, undoubtedly one of those beaches is Biarritz.”
After two days in Biarritz, we made the winding trek home, tired and ready for the comfort of our own bed and home-cooked meals. Even with the mediocre weather, the trip was a good experience for us allowing us to explore a bit of a new country and learning about the Basques. We were impressed with their chocolates and cakes but disappointed with the Spanish tapas (pintxos). It probably comes as no surprise to any Frenchmen but French food clearly out-classes the Spanish. More fresh ingredients, less grease (and mayonnaise) and more meticulous preparation lead to a better final product. Advantage: France.
