St Jean de Luz has had a sand sculpture exhibition on this week. I was rather uninterested until I saw it, it's rather interesting and lovely.
[We are taking a trip to London next week so from Monday the blog will be mobile]
Basque of the day:- step :: urrats
Saturday presented St Jean de Luz with another beautiful morning. Rising before the sun I set off along the coast to enjoy watching it appear from my favourite cliff-top vantage point. It being today I had my weekly coffee tutorial with Bruno. I have started to sound a little too much like Inspector Clouseau as I try to prounounce my 'oo', 'ou', 'eou''s etc, all very embarassing.
Dawn in St Jean de Luz promised yet another beautiful day. It didn't fail to impress. I am also rather pleased to say that today's flamenco endeavours likewise seemed to have impressed our teacher. She has asked me to dance in public in the main square in June. I fear I may have another pressing engagement that day.
In St Jean de Luz the firemen/pompier
s have it tough. Not content with making them run along the beach and go for a swim each day, today the boss forced them all to spend the morning surfing. They do say surfing is a must-have skill for firefighting. Only jealous.
ffee. As I imbibed the sound of very funky music ebbed and flowed. Being naturally curious, and looking for an excuse to avoid working, I ventured out to seek the music makers. Fifty yards down Rue Gambetta a group of very able musicians entertained passing tourists with a fab display of jazzy-brassy-latino music, the type you hear at rugby matches where notes are slid into and held in reverb. Lovely stuff.
In St Jean de Luz they don't have an Easter Bunny. Rather than a clearly drug induced deliverer of chocolate eggs they have a far more sensible option, a magic bell that delivers 'les oeufs de Pâques'. What is wrong with people. From what I recall it was a stone that rolled down a hill, not a bell or an egg, and certainly not a chocolate egg. Ok, sourgrapes because I agreed to be healthy this year and not over-indulgent...gutted.
St Jean de Luz is beginning to get busy. Easter weekend falls smack in the middle of all school holidays. The Spaniards have been with us along with the Toulousains for the past week and today has seen the arrival of the Parisians and the Bordeaulais. Rue Gambetta is awash with amblers. While it does mean getting to the boulangerie takes a few minutes longer it is fantastic for local businesses and does give a lovely air of happiness as people begin to enjoy their holidays.
St Jean de Luz has a wonderful beach. That wonderful beach is full of fine sand. That sand is continually trodden upon, washed-up on and treated with little respect by those who enjoy it. There is, however, one man who looks out for the little granuals. Day after day he protects their beauty; combing, cleaning and guarding the serenity. An anonymous man who craves no lime-light but ensures that the equilibrium between happy sand and happy beach-goers is maintained at all times. He is known as tractorman.
Our friend Francois-Xavier, how cool a name is that, visited for afternoon tea today. With him he very generously brought a gift. Having read this blog he knew I had a penchant for chocolate. However, there is chocolate and there is chocolate.
It had to happen. Not since early February have we had any real rain. As the sun began to set clouds rolled down from the Pyrenees and set up camp above St Jean de Luz. The new terrace garden is finally getting the moisture it has been craving, and then some.
We bought a watering can (arrosoir) today and built up our rooftop garden, lots of herbs and nice aromas. Fingers crossed it lasts till summer.
Friday
to Zaragoza in Spain. A motorway accident lengthened our journey so it was siesta time when we arrived at the Castille. It was splendid albeit from the outside and shall be visited again in the future. However, the basilica of St Pilar was open and its wonderful cupola and many Goya masterpieces were beyond belief, a joy to behold.
Mother and father have arrived in St Jean de Luz for a wee break and a spot of cat sitting while we head back to the UK this weekend. The weather has held up nicely for them. After an exhausting morning of reading on the front terrace we decided upon lunch. To be fair mother had had a tougher morning, she had received a pummeling at the hands of the Amatsu queen, Caroline. Given the weather and warmth we took them to our current favourite lunchtime haunt, La Plancha in Ilbarritz.
wine terrorists strike again
Our second Flamenco outing. Ninety fabulously attired people with a common wish to dance. A delicious dinner began. The tables were set around the central floor which was continually refilled as each course was presented. By the time dessert began to arrive everyone had danced at least two sevillanas. [select link to sevillanas]
To say pelota makes rugby look and feel like ginkana is an understatement. It is a sport that combines the best bits of rugby (the bashing people and deft movements) with squash and tennis. It is also very masculine. The court is roughly five times that of a squash court and four men get locked in with bats, helmets and a hard ball. It is exceedingly fast and I was shattered before we'd completed the first game. Then came the tough stuff. It reminded me of playing rugby at college as we sat having our post match lunch. Within twenty minutes we had sunk four large glasses of red wine, more was forthcoming. No women are permitted into the club and smoking rules are very loose. Although it is a dark bar area seeped in testosterone it is also exceptionally warm and relaxed. I was made to feel very welcome, the Scottish card works well on such occasions, and look forward to future Fridays with much expectation. I do think practice is required before I go back, both fitness and drinking. Time for a lie down.
Basque of the day:- men :: izenaren
Today the French have been revolting. In over 200 towns hundreds of thousands of people took a stand against Sarkozy's proposed economic policies. Public and many private sector workers took to the streets demanding change. Key amongst their gripes are:
Mr Sarkozy was quoted today as saying "social issues often heat up in May...it is normal" [even though it's March?]. Some fear that continued and escalating strike action could see a return to extreme riots like those of May 1968 which rocked France and brought about the demise of the de Gaulle government.
While the CEOs of Lloyds, Barclays, RBS & Co. were being grilled by the goverment today we were having an equally stressful and demanding day. After being rudely awoken by the sun around six this morning we were compelled to spend the whole day on the beach, even though at times it was unbearably hot. As you can see it was as busy as the Northern Line at 0815 on a Monday morning, traumatic.
Following up on the interesting conversations heard this week relating to effects of the moon I have spent a few days talking to locals about it. Results as follows:
There is a good deal of talk in these parts about the moon. People seem to know exactly which phase of the lunar cycle we are in and what the impact is. There is a belief that the moon affects everything from behaviour to weather. There was a full moon earlier this week and it has caused quite a stir. 'My dog was acting funny', 'my kids couldn't sleep', 'the birds were singing all night' are amongst a few of the exchanges I have noted. The weather on the day following the full moon is said to remain until the next full moon arrives. Given that it has been warm, glorious sunshine I am rather hoping it is true. More beach time would seemingly lie ahead.
When the school children are out scrabbling along the coastline in search of crabs, anemones and other sea life, it has got to mean that winter is officially over. Today forty or so such participants led by their teachers (and friends) were doing just that. Aged six to eight they jumped from rock to rock trying to avoid the waves and fishing deep into the myriad of pools. No health and safety overdrive in these parts. Furthermore, none of them were obese or anything other than healthy. A joy to see after a recent trip back to Britain.
An interesting few days. Saturday saw us shopping in Spain, yesterday brought skiing and today the beach. Variety is rife in St Jean de Luz.
Whoever said skiing in the Pyrenees was tame compared to the Alps had clearly never spent a hot March day pursuing the pistes of Barèges-La Mongie. It is a wonderful ski station situated about 30 minutes from Lourdes, 45 from Pau and 2 hours from St Jean de Luz. It offers everything any skier could want, including the longest blue run in Europe at 14 kilometres, easy but exhausting!
It was a stormy night. Admiral Hank Wannabe, commander in chief of the US Army special forces, was heading across the Atlantic with his men on a secret mission to attack south west France. Due to budget constraints aroused by 'le crise' the authorities had only filled the warship with enough fuel to carry its full cargo halfway. At that point there were two choices. Turn back or determine an alternative course of action. Being ever entrepreneurial, the American war hero chose the latter.
logs, plastic containers of US branded DIY products, barrels of liquor and dead fish. I can only surmise that this is the advance party for the imminent invasion. They have clearly offloaded their balast after consulting the cosmos and the storm has eagerly carried materials for makeshift camps, food and beverage onto the beaches to await the troops. This has enabled Admiral Hank to retain enough fuel to carry his men onwards.
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Following the weekend I had just enjoyed I felt able to cope with another all girl situation. We readily consumed delicious freshly baked cake, drank coffee and discovered exactly who was sleeping with who and other pertinent local gossip. It may be fun drinking beer at the pub but sometimes girls' chat is far more interesting.
I must remember when I come back in my next life to be born in France, children don't have school on Wednesdays and get two hours lunch break on other days. After speaking with Pascale's delightful children I also learned that in French, Shaggy from Scooby-Doo is called Sammy and that there is no word in French for fairy - how impressively macho.
Basque of the day:- gossip :: hitzontzi
After returning from shopping in Spain yesterday we pulled up near the apartment while we unloaded the groceries. As I carried the last of the bags into the kitchen the smell of fresh bread proved too much and we set to lunch. Unfortunately it was not until the next day that we remembered that we had parked illegaly. Sure enough when I returned to the vehicle a plastic bound white letter waited for me wedged beneath the wind-screen wiper.
The children are all back at school, the Parisians have gone home after the holidays, my wife's friends poured themselves back into cars and planes, and normality has resumed. Or has it?
