Louis XIV returns to St Jean de Luz

On this day 350 years ago St Jean de Luz was waking up with its biggest ever hangover. Yesterday in 1660 Louis XIV married Marie Theresa Infanta of Spain (daughter of Philip IV). This concluded the Treaty of the Pyrenees and finally brought peace between France and Spain.

The wedding took place in Eglise Saint-Jean-Baptiste and being who he was Louis XIV insisted that the door he and his wife exited by was immediately bricked up so that noone else could have a marriage like his; so pedantic.

To celebrate the anniversary St Jean de Luz has held events all week culminating in a ceremonial mass at church followed by a re-enactment of the wedding festivities. Baroque music filled the air as revellers in large hats danced around merrily. Macarons also had their first airing for the wedding 350 years ago and as such the town's principal macaron maker, Maison Adam, was offering its delicious fare to hungry onlookers.

St Jean de Luz was chosen for the wedding not simply because the weather here is so good. Louis XIV was also known as the Sun King but had more political motivation behind his choice of venue. St Jean de Luz is the exact midpoint between Paris and Madrid.

Basque of the day:- wedding :: ezkontza

global events in St Jean de Luz

For the next few weeks there will be little escape from the football world cup, not even in St Jean de Luz. I am not the greatest football fan but cannot ignore how good it is that this event is taking place in Africa. In the midst of so much depressing news coming out of Korea, Palestine et al it is reassuring that a country less than a generation ago deemed amongst the worst has come so far. There is little chance of South Africa winning the tournament, but that is really not the point. Harmonious geographical and cultural collectiveness is more important to the world cup than winning; for once taking part whether in person or in absentia is what is important. It showcases the modern role and opportunity sport has locally and on the global stage in tearing down divisions and unifying peoples.

Basque of the day:- unity :: batasun

Backhanded compliments in St Jean de Luz

This week has as ever been a social one in St Jean de Luz. I started singing and dancing in order to meet people. Little did I realise that doing such things as an 'outsider' (etranger) would seemingly endear me so readily with the Basque people. I can never quite tell whether they think it is lovely or hilarious that I am throwing myself into things. Regardless it is nigh on impossible to walk down the street without having to stop for a chat. Given the many places I have had the pleasure of living this is the first time that I feel cradled by a real sense of community.

However, this does not come without certain drawbacks. Yesterday a local friend commented:
"Chris, you really do seem to be enjoying yourself"
"Thank you" I replied, "living here it is difficult not to."
"You really seem to enjoy the food here."

That was quite enough of that. I didn't need to hear anymore. Two weeks before the big town festival and beach season proper. Two weeks to avoid such statements being repeated. It's odd, in the UK I am of average shape; here I am seen as rather large. That says something.

Basque of the day:- diet :: jan-edanak

stage debut in St Jean de Luz

I am still not sure how it actually happened but I allegedly danced Flamenco on stage in St Jean de Luz last Saturday. The ever-lovely Fabienne organised an end of dance season concert at the jai alai (normally the home of pelota). From 0900 on Saturday and for 18 hours thereafter I was at her beck and call.

The day began with a full rehearsal. Over 100 people were involved ranging in age from 4 to 84. I was one of 7 men and would mostly be the only chap on stage at any one time albeit surrounded by a bevvy of brightly attired alluring ladies. Rehearsal good, waiting bad.

The last time I had been on stage I was seven years old and had just won the Edinburgh Schools Robert Burns Poetry Recital Award; I forgot every word and vowed I would never again take to the boards. As the start time neared and the hall filled my nerves began to get the better of me. There would be nearly 500 people watching, including a large group of my friends who promised they would make large amounts of noise in support - how much I looked forward to that.

I had two Sevillanas and one Tangos allegedly committed to memory. The first routine was some twenty minutes into the programme. The longest twenty minutes I can remember. Thankfully my obvious nervousness was greeted by much reassuring hugging by the ladies present - there is always a silver lining.

I heard the first strains of our first song and stepped trepidously into the overpowering limelight. The moment we began to move all sense of trepidation dissipated (footage here). What followed was one of the most enjoyable evenings I have ever had.

Two hours flew past and I regained sense around midnight sitting at a table with forty other revellers and clasping a large pitcher of sangria. As I staggered home around 0300 I decided that it had indeed been a resounding success. Three years ago I was working in the City; now I sing Basque, drink sangria and spend weekends dancing Flamenco with hundreds of women. How times change.

Basque of the day:- change :: aldaketa

a constant in St Jean de Luz

Today I have mostly been sitting in my house in St Jean de Luz. I am getting a new front door. The builders turned up as promised at 0800 (a surprise). They worked dilligently for several hours before asking for water. Once watered they said they would take lunch. This was around 1100. They had done well thus far so I couldn't say anything. Therein lies the schoolboy error that has so often been manipulated by builders worldwide. Lunch lasted until 1800. During this time my home was open to anyone who fancied a nosey. I was a prisoner. Normally not a problem but today was the perfect beach day and I was forced to work instead. My door has finally been installed. It's horrid and I hate it.

Basque of the day:- lazy :: alfer

the things you do in St Jean de Luz

There's never a dull day in St Jean de Luz, let alone a dull week or month. Following on from the Festival Andalou (three days of raging sunshine, sangria, dancing, tapas, socialising and general festivalness) people around town have been on a high. The festival season is upon us.

I followed up my dancing exploits with a quick spot of Basque choralling at Musee Basque in Bayonne and a good deal of dance practice with the ladies. This weekend presents the end of year Flamenco spectacle - the fruits of Fabienne's labour. All has gone swimmingly until I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday - no honestly I did...

Every morning at 0730, lunchtime at 1200 and evening at 2000 the eglise St Jean Baptiste is eager to let us know that we should be eating. Rather than the simple peeling; we are offered three peels by three different bells each increasing in pitch. This is followed by 30 peels of the main bell. My bedroom faces the church and at this time of year the French windows are open overnight. There is no chance of my having a long lie in the morning.

Basque of the day:- regular :: ohizko

time for fiesta in St Jean de Luz

Here we go, three hours until the fiesta begins in St Jean de Luz. This weekend sees the Festival Andalou which translates as much dancing, drinking and eating. It is based largely on the promenade with several restaurants opening their doors to revellers for bespoke parties. On the promenade the 'casetas' (small tents serving sangria and tapas) are open pretty much all night long. The camp is centred around a stage on which more able flamenco dancers dance while we follow suit below. During the day there is non-stop dancing including numerous mass beginners classes which are good fun. At night flamenco oriented bands make sure nobody falls asleep. With the weather forecast to touch 30C and the sea views being hospitably panoramic this promises to be a good weekend. Sunday is the main event. I will report back.

In addition to the festival there is the small matter of a rugby cup final involving the local team Biarritz as well as a swanky private party that my choir are singing at on Saturday evening. I had my first ever siesta this afternoon anticipating that I won't sleep at all between now and Monday. Life in the Basque country continues to be stressful.

Basque of the day:- party :: jai

fags and bikes in St Jean de Luz

I saw a classic contradiction this morning in St Jean de Luz as I headed out to the boulangerie for my daily croissants and baguette. There was a man in a Basque beret smoking a cigarette whilst standing beside his bike. A normal enough occurrence until I looked more closely. His brand of cigarette and bike were both Gitane. I believe it means 'gypsy woman'.

Who'd have thought that the same name would be used to sell two very different types of lung buster. They also do guitars.

Basque of the day:- esklabua :: slave

embarassing admission in St Jean de Luz

I've mentioned before that St Jean de Luz is a fairly suave place. I live in the centre of town so I like to hope that a little of that sophistication has rubbed off on me. However, there is a pastime I enjoy that I am compelled to keep secret. Even my wife only found out about it last year. it is something about which my friends would ridicule me and its discovery would certainly lessen my standing amongst the Basque men. I need to share it though, I can't go on any longer living a lie.

I love shopping in supermarkets.

It's not as though this is something new. As a youth, myself and a good artist friend (he knows who he is) used to take delight in people watching at the local supermarket in Edinburgh. There is always such a wild and varied delight of people milling around. It really can be an anthropological insight and treat.

Imagine my delight upon finding Al Campo across the border in Spain. It has to be the largest and most bizarrely stocked offering of its kind. Where Scotland held aisles of ready meals, here we find a thousand varieties of sausage; where Edinburgh presented us with a myriad of fizzy drinks here we find whole aisles stuffed with legs of ham. The clientele is also different and their social patterns as alien as the ingredients I tried to translate.

I feel a new challenge upon me and will endeavour to catalogue the buying behaviours, idle banter and shopping fashions that present themselves over the coming months.

Basque of the day:- shop :: denda

overlooking St Jean de Luz

The sun shone brightly on St Jean de Luz yesterday. Towering in the background the Pyrenees are omnipresent. Standing proudly at the head of the mountain chain stands La Rhune at 905m high (nearly the same height as Snowdon). Having been here for almost 18 months I figured it was about time I went to the top of the mountain. I've walked its foothills many times but have never taken the time to climb to the top even though it's only a 3 hour hike. However, there is an alternative. A cog-link train drags itself to the summit every 40 minutes or so and proves to be a popular tourist attraction. With my in-laws in tow we set forth.

It reminded me of being on a big dipper as we cranked our way upwards, I just hoped that once we reached the top we wouldn't be hurtling down the other side at stomach wrenching speeds. Not so. Dotted across the mountainside were 'pottok' ponies. A breed unique to the Pyrenees and akin to Shetland ponies. Circling above them various birds of prey sought out their next meal.

The view from up there is quite amazing. The Basque country is laid out below. To the north the beaches stretch up towards Bordeaux. To the south San Sebastian reminds you of lunch. Westwards the mountains rise and fall into the distance and eastwards St Jean de Luz glistens by the Atlantic. Even my mother-in-law was impressed.

Basque of the day:- view :: ikusmen

incredulity in St Jean de Luz

I sit frustrated in St Jean de Luz this evening. I am supposed to be in England to celebrate my dear friend Peter's important birthday but have had to bend to the whim of the force that is Nature. Darn those blasted inconvenient geological seismic shifts. Most airports in Spain have been closed all day due to volcanic ash with southern France and Portugal following suit. Twice aviation has been affected by volcanic activity and twice I have been caught out. For those that fear there may be some correlation, my next flight is scheduled for May 20th!

Today was VE Day. The town of St Jean de Luz is ardent in its continued support and remembrance of the Allied victory, with particular importance paid to the Resistance who were very active in these parts. A small troop of servicemen marched into town from Ciboure where a small service was held amidst the pomp, circumstance and music that the Basques serve up so well. Afterwards we were all ushered to the town hall for canapes and wine. Nothing is ever complete unless a glass or two are shared.

Talking of which, here's to you from far too far away Mr Bell, I am so sorry we couldn't be with you.

Basque of the day:- happy birthday :: zorionak

April comes late in St Jean de Luz

April was an unseasonably sunny affair in St Jean de Luz with long unproductive hours spent on the beach. Lazy days were puckered by meandering Parisians wearing the latest season's styles (lots of short skirts with brightly painted wellies?!).

Now that May is upon us, usually one of the warmest months, the weather has turned for the worse. It has rained every day thus far and there was even snow reported in some parts of the Basque country.

Thankfully the singing, dancing, eating and greeting season is in full swing so we are being kept warm by conviviality and rarely have a moment to moan about the weather - it would be nice to get back on the beach soon though...

Basque of the day:- weather :: eguraldi

back on form in St Jean de Luz

After an absence of two months from St Jean de Luz I returned just as the festival season was getting underway (quelle domage!). This weekend saw the choir holding a wee dinner for us newer members. Having been absent for a while I dodged having to cook anything but did take along a couple of bottles of malt whisky by way of enforcing a modicum of Scottishness.

My experience of meals with guys is fish and chips or perhaps at a push a barbecue. Not so in the Basque country. We started with 4kg of huge crevettes, freshly made mayonnaise with crab, smoked salmon and several large plates of meats. This was only the entree. Main course served up duck breast and pigeon on a bed of pureed potato in a shallot and garlic jus. Dessert presented five enormous chocolate and passion fruit gateau, all courtesy of Alain our singing patissier. Washed down by two dozen bottles of red wine (plus my whisky) our throats were adequately lubricated to enable sporadic forrays into Basque song.

Unlike chaps back home, the Basque men worked as a cohort and I was quickly seconded to chop herbs, wash dishes and serve wine. It was effortless and, dare I say it, working the kitchen was fun. I guess living in a matriarchal society (which the Basque country is) we men need to find solace where we can.


[Apologies for absence: Egypt, Scotland, Sudan, England, Spain, with a bit of volcano thrown in...]


Basque of the day:- absence :: ez izate

a wild weekend in St Jean de Luz

Sometimes it takes until Tuesday to recover from a weekend in St Jean de Luz. Fabienne was stricter than ever bossing our flamenco class on Friday afternoon. We struggled to get our pasadas, zapateados and vuelta izquierdas in order but she was unrelenting. Saturday night was presenting the biggest soiree of the season so far and our teacher was adamant we would do well.

Once I had recovered suitably a friend joined me for dinner (and wine) to watch France play Wales at rugby. Afterwards we joined friends in several bars around town to discuss France's resounding victory and celebrate until the first signs of daylight started to appear. So much for the alleged Basque lack of hospitality; I was readily accepted by the gang and met far more people than names I can remember, let alone prounouce - Basque names can be...interesting.

Most of Saturday was wasted but I roused myself as evening approached and readied myself for the main event. I was acting taxi for the evening which was most welcomed given the previous night. I picked up my partner for the evening before meeting the rest of our group. Driving in convoy towards the Spanish border the storm that has marred the past few days began to raise its head. An enormous fire on La Rhune burned uncontrollably being driven widely by the wild winds. We arrived in Fuenterrabia and headed for the party.

A huge hall presented itself and soon there were some 400 ready revellers; 300 of whom were elegantly attired ladies. Following a hearty dinner of local fares the music struck up. I am always a little nervous at the start of these events and tend to watch from the sidelines to begin with; in part to remind myself of the moves, in part in hope that there is someone who is worse at dancing than me! My rest didn't last long. With only half of the men dancing the ratio of 6:1 meant that my dance-card was preoccupied for some six hours non-stop. The hard practice Fabienne had put us through paid off and we all astonished ourselves. I used to think I was fit but I was in urgent need of fresh air to cool down between every second dance; it is unrelenting and exhausting (I lost four pounds).

[Click here for video]

The colours and movement were mesmerising; the sounds and smiles elating; the laughter and sense of belonging overwhelming. It is a real privilege to be an outsider allowed to enjoy and partake in something that is so different. At 0300 we were still going strong. During one of my cool-down breaks outside I noticed a thermometer, it read 28C reminding me that we were in the eye of a sizeable storm. I had danced more than I believed possible and exhaustedly corralled my passengers. I really wanted to be home before the storm proper arrived. As it happened I slept through it all and only really woke up sometime Monday morning with a broad smile across my face and a not inconsiderable thirst.

Basque of the day:- I belong here :: hemen bertakoa naiz

(FX, thanks for photos!!)

rugby in St Jean de Luz

Rugby is the most popular sport in St Jean de Luz. Rather than kicking a football, youngsters on the beach play touch rugby. I can name several famous rugby teams from the Basque region (Biarritz, Bayonne, Pau, Dax) but I can't think of one football team. I guess the nearest big team is Bordeaux. Anyway, it is refreshing that the oval rather than round ball dominates.

St Jean de Luz Olympique are mid-table of Pool 5 in the Federale 1 (a number of pools comprise the third division of French rugby). I have been to watch them a few times and given the sun was shining opted to take some fresh air. Today the match was against Mauleon who lie two places below SJLO. Although the sun was shining the wind was howling which made for interesting conditions.

The first half was uneventful, ending 6-6. There were a couple of heated exchanges and SJLO admirably weathered ten minutes down a man after their scrum-half was sin-binned. The second half started more dramatically and SJLO ran in two unanswered tries which they duly converted. Both tries came from quick thinking back play and the visitors quickly became frustrated. Together with a scrum that destroyed the opposition SJLO were never troubled by a lacklustre Mauleon. Mauleon may have edged the punch-ups but it only gave SJLO penalties which they duly scored. SJLO won convincingly 26-6.

What was interesting was the crowd. Given this is Pool 5 of the 3rd division I am always pleasantly surprised that so many people come along and support their team. I am guessing there were over a thousand today. That's more than most of the Premier Division teams in Scotland could dream off, and the tickets are cheaper and beer more readily available. If you find yourself at a loose end on a Sunday in the Basque Country do try and take in a match. It's no suprise the national team is so strong.

Basque of the day:- rugby :: rugby

frustated in St Jean de Luz

After an active week in St Jean de Luz (skiing, flamenco, running) I aimed to continue my diet regime with a day of raquettes. Heading inland I drove towards the Foret d'Iraty some 70 kilometres away. Passing behind La Rhune the landscape changes quickly. High mountains and steep valleys engulf you. Picturesque Basque villages nestle amongst the forests. As I headed beyond the lovely town of St Jean Pied de Port (Saint John at the foot of the mountains) the road became smaller and the ascent steeper. St Jean Pied de Port was razed to the ground by Richard the Lionheart in 1177 and was once part of the Navarre region of Spain. It is still a Basque bastion with the language spoken widely here.

Rising above the valley the road started to challenge my vertigo. The views were enormous but I was intent on focusing on the road. I soon reached the snow line and the drive became slower. With 15km to go snow started to appear on the road and fall from above. The going became ever slower. Cars could be seen deserted at the side of the road. I put on my snow chains and ventured on upwards, slowly. The trees were thickly coated in snow and the temperature plunged. With 2km to go I stopped. Ahead of me on the hill were a line of abandoned cars. Cutting my losses I reluctantly headed back to St Jean de Luz. The winter braderie is on this weekend so I cheered myself up with some retail therapy. I will try again next week.

Basque of the day:- danger :: arrisku

skiing near St Jean de Luz

There is a lot of skiing to be had near St Jean de Luz. Within a short car journey you can be at any one of 25 resorts in the Pyrenees. Given the snowfall we had this week skiing was top of the agenda. Setting off before breakfast we headed to Bareges La Mongie. It's about two hours away on the other side of Lourdes (which is handy if you break a bone on the piste).

Bareges is a good sized resort with more than enough skiing for everyone and more importantly, no queues! The sun shone brightly so after lathering on some factor 50 we took the chairlift up the mountain. It was my first outing this season so I was glad to have a couple of youngsters in tow which meant I could justify taking it a little more sedately. That said after eight hours of non-stop skiing my legs were killing me. Although the majorty of pistes are blue, many of these would definitely be red in other resorts. Similarly many of the reds are more akin to black - be warned! Given the temperature (it was hot by mid afternoon) there was a 70% avalanche warning in place which always adds a little spice to the days events. I had forgotten how good the Pyrenees are, far better than the Alps in my opinion. I am planning another trip next week. I hope my legs recover in time.

Basque of the day:- ski :: eski

bringing chocolate to St Jean de Luz

Over the last year I have had a few heated debates in St Jean de Luz. Often they are about chocolate. Parisians and Belgians insist that all British chocolate is rubbish and that only Continental European chocolate is real chocolate. Other than remind them that the European variety uses powdered milk (rather than real milk) and other chemicals (rather than natural products) I don't rise to the bait. Comparing chocolate from different countries is like comparing girlfriends and boyfriends. Beauty and taste are in the eye of the beholder.

I visited Cadbury's flagship centre of excellence in Bournville yesterday. Here chocolate is not about quick fixes and profit, it genuinely is a way of life. You only need to walk around the vast village to realise that John Cadbury tried and succeeded in creating a workplace that was ethical, effective, happy and still largely unparalleled: lovely houses for workers, village greens, football pitches, swimming pools (one for boys, one for girls), schools, colleges, etc etc. Head chocolate boffin Tony told us about the company's quaker roots, the chocolate making process and his passion for Cadbury. I have never met a more loyal and dedicated staff. Everything is beautifully manicured and everything has a hint of purple (including Bournville train station). It really is a marvel and makes the acquisition by the plastic cheese eaters even more depressing. I don't think the Cadbury culture will sit easily with American efficiency drives, I see a lot of 'streamlining' and 'synergising'.

Factories are wonderful magical places at the best of times. A factory that makes chocolate is simply amazing. The Cadbury factory at Bournville forbids photography which is why they made the documentary film 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' starring Gene Wilder (and later Johnny Depp) - fact; the film is based on this factory. Bournville is named after the little river Bourn that runs through it and a desire to be fashionably French. Man and robot dance forever in enormous rooms that smell of the finest chocolate. Conveyor belts carry millions and millions of chocolates miles and miles around innumerable bulidings. It is an awesome place (in the true sense, not as in 'this is an awesome hotdog').

Victorian architecture houses cutting edge technology and the staff, very few of whom were three feet tall and yellow, are all happy. Who couldn't be happy working in a wonderful place like this. They also have the staff shop (I bought 30 Creme Eggs, 4 Easter Eggs, 20 Buttons, 2kg Dairy Milk, 20 Fingers (for 2 regular readers!) all for under a tenner - marvellous!). As we were leaving I noted a particular favourite, the Cadbury Club complete with its own beer festival. Words can't do Bournville justice, it is unique. It won't disappear because of the sale but I fear some of the magic will be lost forever.

Basque of the day:- badger :: azkonar

taking time in St Jean de Luz

The main street in St Jean de Luz is called Rue Gambetta. It runs parallel to the beach for about a kilometre; from the commercial Boulevard Thiers to the picturesque Place Louis XIV. It is a pedestrianised street filled with quaint Basque home above a myriad of shops (butchers, bakers, Basque linen makers etc.). It is one of the key destinations for the many visitors the town receives each day.

In November 2008 they began to dig up the road to install cabling of various sorts. Workers would dig up vast tracks of street from Monday to Thursday and then fill them in again on Friday before the weekend. The noise and mess has been totally disruptive. Rather than focus on getting a bit done at a time whoever was boss was adamant that they do the whole street at the same time. For a crew of twenty this was no small undertaking. As such progress was achingly slow. It has been truly painful to watch. Each morning shopkeepers stand horror-struck that yet another month has passed with no advancement. It really didn't look like a difficult job but they were doing their very best to make it so.

Before summer came last year they downed tools, patching the holes as best they could. Summer obviously lasts longer wherever the workers are from, they didn't start back until mid December, just in time to ruin Christmas trade for the shopkeepers. However, the magical construction pixie has clearly been up to his old tricks recently. The street is finally being completed. It is beginning to look like it did fourteen months ago. Rumour is that it will be finished by Easter. I wouldn't wager any chocolate eggs on this. I've seen bigger jobs completed in a fortnight but fair play to these guys for milking out a project for so long, what are the bets they're paid by the hour?

Basque of the day:- time :: denbora

Sunday lunch in St Jean de Luz

A friend from St Jean de Luz invited me for Sunday lunch yesterday. When I accepted I hadn't appreciated lunch would last almost ten hours. They never seem to do things as you'd expect in these parts.

We gathered for an aperitif or two in a wee bar in Ciboure, across the port from St Jean de Luz. We were twelve strong and readily became friends, once again the Basque stereotype for frostiness was shattered. Heading towards lunch I had no idea what to expect. More and more people began walking in the same direction. By the time we arrived at the town square there were several hundred people, four bands (ranging from traditional Basque pipes to funky-brass), a twenty strong male choir and most importantly a huge bar. Sunday lunch was clearly going to be a lot more than the roast beef I had imagined.

To celebrate the end of its week-long annual festival Ciboure held a lunch for the town. A huge tent was erected in the square with everyone seated at four immensely long trestle tables. At one end the bar area, at the other a dance-floor and stage for music. No sign of any Yorkshire pudding. Our group sat in the middle of the throng, who had clearly been enjoying a glass or two more than was customary for this hour but being Scottish I felt the least I could do was throw myself into things wholeheartedly, I succeeded.

By the time the first course arrived we had sung loudly whilst swaying rhythmically. There was a Bavarian beer-cellar feel to the place and I wasn't complaining. I also prefer sangria and red wine over warm, flat beer. We ate for several hours breaking only to pour another glass of wine or break into song. I was grateful for having joined a Basque choir and proudly demonstrated to my new friends that I knew the words to their songs. At the time I felt I sang well but this morning I fear not.

Before long it was seven in the evening and the Patxaran was pouring plentifully. We had been dancing and drinking, singing and eating for over six hours and there was little sign of it stopping. There was also no sign of sticky toffee pudding and custard, this was no normal Sunday lunch. I'm not quite sure when I got home but I'm finding today more of a struggle than normal for Monday. The next time a friend asks me for lunch, rather than asking what time we're to meet, I should really ask what time it's likely to end.

Basque of the day:- time :: denbora

from St Jean de Luz to St James's Park

Taking a break from St Jean de Luz (it is so exhausting and stressful) I have headed back to my old haunts in London. It's been a wee while since I was last here and I was immediately assaulted by the sheer volume of people. I used to laugh when countryside friends would make such comments but the worlds bigger cities do seem to be getting busier...

One of London's most endearing qualities is its complex enthnicity. Within an hour of arriving I met people from every continent and many countries from within each. The multi-culturalism creates a liberal and accepting generic culture, but one that unfortunately also houses hidden resentments. St Jean de Luz, and the Basque country as a whole, is far less populated and its people largely one and the same. The Basque face can be readily recognised. While there is an enormous sense of community that has been largely lost elsewhere in Europe this can lead to a little sceptism about 'outsiders'.

It seems that people everywhere are nervous about people that look or sound different. While outright dismissal is abhorrent, it can be equally dangerous to embrace without understanding, I guess a little learned apprehension can be a good thing. As an outsider seeking acceptance I feel it is my duty to understand my new society and make every effort to learn its ways rather than expecting it to bend to mine but without forgetting my Scottish heritage. Creating local interest in my differences seems to have helped break down barriers and speed up integration. Life is interesting.

Basque of the day:- travel :: bidaiatze

recharging in St Jean de Luz

January is definitely my favourite month in St Jean de Luz. Christmas is still a happy memory, I have survived another birthday, it can only get warmer, ski-season has started and it is tranquil, beautifully so. It is the one month of the year when there are next to no tourists. Everyone is truly relaxed in their work, or on holiday. This is not entirely down to there being fewer visitors, much of it is to do with lazily recovering from excessive eating and drinking.

Christmas in the Basque country is a surprisingly social affair. On Christmas Day friends asked round for a quick aperitif that stretched into a dozen bottles of champagne, a trencher of oysters, kilo of foie gras and several langoustines; this was before lunch. Similarly, we joined friends deep in the Pyrenees for a splendid New Year's Eve supper that we hadn't quite expected to contain a dozen courses lasting as many hours. We ate, drank and partied solidly for two weeks and are only now beginning to eat again.

One of the weirder observations was the Basque version of Santa Claus. Rather than the Coca-Cola inspired fat bloke in red they have Olentzero. Dressed in black, including fetching face mask, effigies of him can be seen dreeping from windows throughout the Basque country. He bears a not uncanny resemblance to a thief and fear he may have been responsible for more than one car crash over the years. His name translates as "time of the good ones" and is said to correspond to the old feast of the winter solstice which makes him older than Christmas (which originated in 380AD as a festival). The man himself was allegedly one of the race of giants that lived in the Pyrenees in days of yore, others say he was a hero orphan raised by fairies. Whatever the origin, it is yet another pointer that Basque culture predates all others in Europe.

Anyway, it's good to be back to normal. I am just glad we have this month at the start of each year to recharge our batteries before the imminent festival season begins. Off to the beach for some fresh air, it's a tough life here...

Basque of the day:- refresh :: freskatu

drinking and singing all night in St Jean de Luz

This weekend St Jean de Luz started to fill up with Christmas spirit. My choir were on duty. Meeting mid afternoon at our clubhouse in the port we crammed into the back of a transit van and headed for Biarritz. Assembling outside Maison Adam, the owner sings tenor with us, we broke into a variety of traditional Basque Christmas songs. Far from being carols the songs are upbeat and more folksy than religious. All very rousing, we attracted a significant crowd. Between songs the lovely girls that work in the shop ensured we were fueled by wine, chocolates and macarons. By the time it started getting dark we headed back to St Jean de Luz and the main event.

Gathering in one of the trinquets (a very Basque place where pelota is played) we enjoyed more wine before heading into the centre of town. Walking en masse with two of our more seasoned campaigners leading the way with large wooden sticks (our costume is that of the mountains) we were immediately the centre of attention. First we sang at a tapas bar, then outside another chocolatier on Rue Gambetta before moving to Place Louis XIV where we set up outside the main Maison Adam. Wearing Basque costume, including large floppy berets, we sang loudly and well. By the time we had finished our set in the Place the shops had closed. I had also sussed that the singing was centred around food and drink. Unbeknown to me the main event was about to start. A traditional event dating back decades and longer, a very Basque event that I was to feel exceedingly fortunate to be part of.

To kick-start the evening we had been invited to sing at the opening party of a new gallery by a famous local painter. He had painted our accordianist as the centrepiece of one of his favourite works. After canapes and wine we moved to Le Petite Grill Basque for more singing, wine, piquillos, crevettes and oysters. Next up one of the main bars in town where the local celebrity group Arin Luzien was practicing, complete with mandolins and other assorted Basque instruments. We combined and sang more, accompanied by a myriad of locals and several bottles of wine. Moving on we arrived at another restaurant where the local fire brigade were holding their Christmas party. Again more singing and more beer. From here, across the river into Ciboure and to Chez Mattin where we set up camp beside the bar. As the evening drew on more and more Basque was spoken, songs became increasingly passionate and the brethren ever more close. It was about midnight when we finished at Chez Mattin. The snow was falling heavily outside so we took a break to enjoy a snowball fight before moving on.

Heading back towards the port in Ciboure we descended upon a bar next to the fronton. Despite the hour, weather and quiet streets the bar was mobbed. We heightened the revelries into the small hours as the barmen kept the flow of beer moving in our direction. I was quite bewildered. I had expected a sedate rendition or two in town, not twelve hours of drinking, singing and socialising. In St Jean de Luz everybody knows everybody else. To have been at the heart of such a local group and embraced by the throng was a delight, something I dare say few other 'outsiders' can lay claim to. Around half two we left the bar, I presumed for home, not so. We still had our own private party to contend with. Back at our clubhouse we set about a feast of marinated veal, song and more wine.

I have no idea when we finished or how I got home but I did wake the following morning feeling exceedingly satisfied at having been part of something quite special. I also seem to recognise many more faces as I walk around town. Slowly, slowly, I think I am being accepted. Before arriving in these parts I had been warned that the Basques are notoriously unfriendly and that it's difficult to get on with them unless your family has lived here for generations. I am yet to experience this and think it's just an image they convey in order to keep unwanted visitors at bay.

Basque of the day:- thank you :: eskerrik asko

free wine in St Jean de Luz

At Christmas-time the many choirs of St Jean de Luz wander the streets in Basque costume singing traditional seasonal folk songs. My excellent choir, basically twelve blokes who like to drink but also sing brilliantly, are starting in Biarritz at 4pm tomorrow and then back to St Jean de Luz for the evening session. The choirs are amateur but receive payment in kind. We tend to stop and sing outside preferred chocolatiers, patisseries and restaurants. As such we receive fresh chocolates, macarons and glasses of wine. We cheat, the patron of Maison Adam sings with us so we are guaranteed fine fare.

It will be the first time I have worn Basque costume: mountain shoes (black boots that lace up the leg); thick white socks; dark trousers tucked into socks; white top; rough woollen dark overcoat; dark Basque beret. The songs sung in Basque at Christmas are very different from those I am used to. I had hoped it would be the usual carols using music I know but with words translated. Not so. The songs are very local and tell of snowy mountains, family and of course love of a beautiful women (a traditional Basque theme).

Heavy snow has fallen overnight on the surrounding mountains. The mighty La Rhune that stands proudly at the end of the Pyrenees staring out at the Atlantic has turned white. The cold is set to last. My wife finally returns home tomorrow after six months in London so I hope the airport stays open.

Basque of the day:- snow :: elur

chilling out in St Jean de Luz

Returning from London to St Jean de Luz the temperature plummeted. From a balmy 5C we are now officially sub-zero. Moreover, the forecast for next week, Christmas Day in particular, is even colder ranging from -8C to -21C. The upside is that there will also be snow.

The other big change since coming home is that over the past week St Jean de Luz has turned itself very Christmassy: the main streets shimmer with sparkling decorations; shop windows are bedecked in a vast array of Yuletide splendour; hot chestnuts are readily available and people are finally beginning to talk about Christmas. That it takes until the 17 December for Christmas to arrive in the Basque country never fails to please, no ploughing through Christmas advertising in September here.

I had my first official hot chocolate of winter yesterday. Starting with Etchebaster in St Jean de Luz I will once again selflessly peruse the myriad of coffee houses in the Basque country to discover the Hottest Hot Chocolate of 2010. Last year's winner, Cazenave in Bayonne, will take some beating.

Basque of the day:- Christmas :: Eguberri

from St Jean de Luz to San Sebastian

I escaped from St Jean de Luz for an evening out in San Sebastian. The short 30 minute drive is always fun. I never cease to take pleasure from crossing a national border. Having spent too much time as a kid looking at maps I always imagine everything will be red in Spain as it was on the map, then again not everything in France was blue.

San Sebastian, or Donostia as it is known in Basque, is a splendid place to take dinner. The old town with its grid-like narrow streets are crammed with bars offering tapas, or pinxtos as they call them in Basque-land. Weaving through the omnipresent throng we arrived at my favourite haunt and enjoyed several plates of braised beef in red wine, sauted octopus, fried gambas and cured veal.

Taking some air after dinner we heard singing. Following the sound we arrived at a large tent on the central plaza. Inside a multitude of locals were sitting around tables speaking Basque. I eventually figured out that they were working on ideas for the town's bid to become European City of Culture in 2016. It seems like yesterday that it was Glasgow. How time marches on.

Basque of the day:- time :: denbora

St Jean de Luz verbage

Having been in St Jean de Luz for a year now I am slowly getting grips with speaking French. The more I understand of the language the more similarities I find with English. There are a whole host of words that exist in both languages either directly or indirectly. There are three obvious types:

1. Exact matches: chauffeur, restaurant, profession, avenue, table etc.

2. Close matches: absolument-absolutely, vin-wine, necessaire-necessary etc.

3. Trend matches: English - pret a porter, chic, soiree; French - weekend, cool, let's go

However, there are also a few words in English that are obviously derived from French but which carry a very different meaning. The two most obvious examples are mercy and settee.

Mercy in English is a word used to show compassion by one person to another. It has to have come from the French 'merci' which means thank you. I can only imagine that at some point a group of French soldiers were taken prisoner by the English. During their imprisonment I imagine the French saying thank you to the English for not killing them. Misunderstanding what was being said I like to think that the English saw this as a new word that has been adopted under the guise of mercy.

The word settee is common-place in English. The nearest French translation is canape, nothing like settee. Again, imagining some battle fought long ago, the English were this time captured by the French. I like to think that some French soldier ordered the English to sit on that bench over there, declaring 'assieds-toi'. Not understanding the foreign words or accent perhaps the English soldiers thought their captor was referring to the bench or wooden settee. Who knows?

The more I think about the more confusing it becomes. Throw in Basque and Spanish then I'm completely flummoxed...

Basque of the day:- translate :: itzuli

success in St Jean de Luz

There is a rumour doing the rounds in St Jean de Luz that the LGV is being re-routed. It had been planned to destroy various villages as well as scour a gaping hole through La Rhune. It now looks as though it is following the existing rail route with no adverse effects. Why couldn't the authorities simply have opted for this in the first place? It would have saved a good deal of effort and public relations.

On another note... What is it with people in the UK who have already put up their Christmas decorations? I can partially understand reatil outlets touting for business early but bringing the plastic cheer into the home early is just not class. Even the shops here are only just beginning to think about Christmas. It's the 1st of December not the 21st!!!!

Basque of the day:- tradition :: tradizio