getting there

An early post for you! Right on the tail of the previous one!

I really wasn't sure I was going to get anywhere tonight. A call for airport strikes usually affects the short haul flights within France and I was to travel from Biarritz after all (it's far cheaper to buy a ticket from Biarritz to Warsaw than from Paris to Warsaw and connect to Paris by train). I counseled myself to be patient and to take things in stride.

The day began with cloudy skies and cool temperatures. Ah, this is what I was expecting all along from the Atlantic side. I had been lucky to have had two summery, mostly sunny days. Still, the innkeepers close the doors to the patio and so I take my last Biarritz breakfast indoors. Which is a shame, but the excellent bread product more than makes up for it.






I have to make a dash to the post box to mail back my WiFi hot spot device (I had only rented it for France) and in doing this, I have a chance to take one last fond look at Biarritz...






... and the ocean.






I see that the number of surfers seems to have multiplied ten fold. Are there to be waves? It looks pretty calm right now...






And then I wave a fond farewell to my wonderful little hotel...






... and I'm off to the airport, where I learn there are no cancellations so far. What good luck! I travel without incident to Paris (I would say, coming in to the airport, it looks almost like Wisconsin. Almost. The clusters of houses rather than the isolated farmsteads I think gives it away)...


 



At the airport I grab this insignificant lunch...






... and then I get ready to board the late afternoon flight to Warsaw.

That's it for photos for today. I'll be staying with my sister -- probably for the last time ever, as my next trip here should be to my own old but soon to be freshly new apartment.

I really will have only two full days in Poland. The first is going to be spent on matters pertaining to the apartment and the second -- well, it will be nicely relaxed and I will eventually amble over to my friend's home to meet up with the usual gang for an evening of joviality.

I've already been teased that I chose to travel to Poland at the same time that Obama is coming here (actually he's arriving on Wednesday, but still, we overlap). There is sort of an ironic coincidence -- the president (whom I like so much, by the way) from my adopted country, passing through this way while I'm here. Maybe I should stand on the street and wave a little flag? No, I've never been a flag waving type. Still, I'll let you know if Warsaw is topsy turvy for the momentous arrival of all NATO heads of state.

Until tomorrow then!

a day in and out of Biarritz

Now that I think back to it, I'd say it was a quirky kind of day. Normally while away, I follow a rather standard pattern: get up, eat breakfast, explore, rest a little, perhaps do a little photo work, eat dinner, post.

But consider this summary: get up, eat breakfast, go back to room and spend more than two hours trying to fix a mistake I made in making reservations for a future trip to Scotland (there is no public transportation to get me out of a place I was to visit on the day I needed to leave), then go out in the heat of the day to buy lots of chocolates for gifts, and, too, wine that was fermented in vats by the sea or under the sea -- I couldn't fully understand the explanation -- also for gifts, go back and leave gifts at hotel, take two buses for a total of more than an hour to get to the next town down the coast -- a place only seventeen kilometers (ten miles) from where I am, buy myself a dress there for only 45 Euros ($50), but still, it felt extravagant, take train back to Biarritz to save time, but train's late, so miss connecting direct bus to downtown Biarritz, therefore taking a circuitous one that loses whatever time I saved, get a tapas snack because breakfast was a long time ago, go out immediately after for a dinner where there is only one item on the menu, return to hotel, sit down to post, fall asleep instead.

I mean, quirky, no?

I offer a few photos as proof of the above.


Breakfast -- a lovely little affair on the patio.






Walk to chocolate shops, taking in the street scenes -- always so fascinating when you're away from your home environs. I can just hear the conversation:  

You need to hold my hand and stay off the street!
Non! Je refuse!






A glance at the ocean. And at humanity enjoying the rough and tumble of the waves.






Chocolates are a big item in Biarritz. There's even a museum dedicated to their production. I buy some from two great stores. I know, I know -- all chocolates look alike the world over. Ah, but the taste... (I had to sample to make informed choices, no?)






A place I pass that was not quite a success story apparently. Closed and shuttered.






Popular in the southwest of France: hats. Here's a store with some choices. And a mirror.







In the afternoon I decide to go to St Jean de Luz. Once a whaling town, now still an important fishing port...







... and it's somewhat of a commercial hub in the French Basque. (By the way, San Sebastian in Spain is only twenty miles from here.)


 




It's smaller and more modest than Biarritz, but the architecture is more eye catching, I think. There are sea walls that protect the town from the rough stormy ocean and as a result, the beach here is tamer -- more suitable for families with young children or those who truly enjoy a calm swim in the sea.







The Basque houses that really define the town:








The main pedestrian shopping street, offering a range of stores...







What I love is looking at the Basque colors in fabrics, in dishes, in espadrille shoes.











The shoes come in kid sizes too and I hesitate as to whether to pick up a pair for Snowdrop. Will they stay on? In the end, the shop keeper tells me that in her opinion, they're not great for wee ones. I loved her honesty!

Instead, I find this shop with gorgeous hand sewn dresses from Madagascar. Very inexpensive. I spend forever selecting one for Snowdrop.






And that's not the only little shop that tempts with children's clothes...






Finally, I pause at a shop with all linen dresses for the older set (meaning me). From Italy. Again, shockingly cheap. I cannot pass by polka dots. Cannot. I break down.






This is when I decide it's time to leave this place of beautiful little shops.






I hadn't taken the train here because the tourist office agent in Biarritz had said the bus is much cheaper. But the length of the bus trip was off putting and so I decide to bite the bullet and take the train back. Expecting a huge mark up, I am surprised that the price of the Biarritz ticket is only 3 Euros. (The bus was 2 Euros.)


Back in Biarritz now. A glance at the beach. It's muggy right now. Lots of people taking in the coolness of the ocean.






For me -- tapas, a glass of wine and post cards for the youngest members of my family.







Mirror in the stairwell of my hotel.






I throw down my bags and prepare to set out to dinner.  I glance out the window. Whoa! Those are not mountains. Those are storm clouds on the horizon.






It's windy and the rains come down. I tally forth. Past a suddenly nearly empty beach. (Oh, there's always the person who thinks it's cool to sit in a storm by the sea, or the crazy photographer who leans into the wind to grab a shot.)






Dinner is in a place that's beloved by Philippe and his wife. And yes, they do own the St Julien, as he explained to me: as of last year, we own the inside... the hotel. Not the walls of the building! 

The restaurant is called the Fumoir Marin and I, too, love it! It has only one item on the menu (though you could order a separate component of the entirety, but no one I saw did that): a plate of fish, most of them smoked, some just seared, one raw and marinated in vodka. They're served with a sour cream and a bowl full of scrambled eggs and another bowl of boiled young potatoes. I added a salad. Absolutely delicious.








The owner's wife is actually from Aberdeen and she tells me that her husband's family has had several generations of top of the line chefs. The dessert I choose is one that came from a Michelin multi-starred place her father-in-law cooked in. It's very traditional -- a perfect balance to the more contemporary style of food here.





The proprietors treated me to a glass of Rhum Arrange Epice -- I'd never had something like that before. It's from Basque: a rum infused with spices. (I was shown the bottle and I took note of its website here.  Quite the nice thing to sip on a special occasion!)  A generous ending to a very wonderful stay in this Basque town.

And there you have it -- quirky, beautiful day, not really very Fourth of July like, but grand and with a celebratory feel to it nonetheless, no? 

Tomorrow morning I'm to catch connecting flights to Warsaw, but last I heard there's an air traffic controllers' strike in Paris, so not much (if anything) is connecting. Let the adventures continue!

Sunday in Biarritz

What can I say -- it is a gorgeous day in Biarritz today! Unquestionably the best weather day thus far and Biarritz in fine weather is like a strawberry shortcake with an extra serving of chantilly cream.

I wake up just as the sun is about to rise. A holdover from days of opening the coop. I look out my window -- my oh, my, true loveliness!






Isn't it a grand day to have breakfast on the patio!






If I was a tad cautious about embracing this little city (it cannot be 25,000 -- it just cannot), that caution has been washed away by the colors all around me. It's just a really pretty day and no matter where I look, I am caught up in a whirligig of loveliness...






If you're here as a visitor, as opposed to a longer term vacationer, there are certain things you really would want to visit, but none of them are essential, though some do head the pack. This is what I find to be so lovable about Biarritz: yes, it definitely appears to be attractive to the well heeled, but it also appears to be attractive to the surfers and counterculture types and it definitely is attractive to French families, and so there is a mix. And that's a good thing.

(Grandparents, looking after their little one.)






(On the beach, playing paddle ball.)






(On the beach, sisters.)






I go to the market first because it's just a few blocks from me. It's a splendid hall with stalls and stalls of the usual summer market foods, but my attention is drawn especially to the Basque regional staples. Here they are:

Basque hams and sausages, always sliced very thinly.






Basque cheeses: sheep's milk, for the most part.






Basque cake: it has a thin layer of jam (sometimes cream) inside.






Espelette pimento, with or without salt.






What catches me by surprise is that the vendors are exceptionally friendly. When I pause, one will explain to me how he baked his apple cake. Another offers me some cheese even though I said I'm not buying stuff today. (Well, I pick up the Esplette pepper flakes -- a specialty of this region and only mildly hot.) There's an aura of bonhomie here and I like bonhomie.

(You can purchase a cone of thin slivers of Basque chorizo sausage or a lettuce wedge topped with ham.)






After the market, I poke around the shops that line the streets of the old section of town. Phillipe assured me that most, including the big department store (Galerie Lafayette) would be closed. He was wrong. Snowdrop benefits.






But of course, ultimately, I'm ocean bound. I live more than a thousand miles away from an oceanfront. I don't mind that, but when I come close to the vast waters of our seas, I want to really take it all in. 

(My morning encounter with the Grande Plage, the main beach of Biarritz.)






I'm standing right by the grand Casino. I hear music just outside its doors.






Ah, Basque music. Very quickly, a small crowd gathers to dance.






It's all very impromptu, no costumes, no performance aspect to it. And I've seen it so many times -- this love of bringing out the local traditions, especially as demonstrated in music and dance. The Catalonian dances (from Sorede, for example) are so imprinted in my memory! As are the Scottish dances from the Isle of Islay. I can't ever resist watching, always with a smile.

Except that today I also have this nagging thought that perhaps it's only the older generation that is keen on the preservation of these elements of cultural heritage. (Do you see anyone there who is not a grandparent type? There was one little girl doing the dances, but she was in fact with her grandmother.) Yes, children learn much of this stuff in school, I'm sure of it, but perhaps they choose then to forget it? Perhaps they are the ones who care more about a bigger community than the one they were born into? Don't the various elections in Europe indicate just that?

I know when I was a little girl, I loved my Polish folk costume. I just loved it: the sequence on the vest, the ribbons on a white apron, the flowered skirt and the wreath for my hair. I still get a catch in my throat when I think back to it.  But these days, national, cultural, ethnic identities are a tricky business. Are they sometimes used to establish boundaries (often very artificial boundaries)? To exclude?

We live in complicated times.

But I try not to think long about complicated times. Because it really is a beautiful day and there is a vast array of humanity enjoying it here, on the coast of the Atlantic.

Oh, but the waves are strong! There are two designated bathing spots along this tremendous beach (marked by blue flags) and though the areas are not large, each is patrolled by no fewer than five life guards!






And now I make a small detour to the Orthodox church. There was a time (oh, a century or two ago) when Russians were a significant minority of the vacationing crowd here and the church was built in 1890 for them.






I come in just at a time of service. The small room is crowded and I quickly retreat. Even so, I have to wonder: who is there now? What community has claimed this place of worship as their own?

I continue along the shore, all the way toward the lighthouse. The views from this bit of land on a clear day like today are beyond magnificent.






The lighthouse itself can be explored in the afternoon, but I see no point in waiting. Climb a hundred steps? For a view that already cannot be improved upon? I turn back toward the heart of Biarritz, going down to the beach, where I notice that the waves have grown in size in the last hour.







The life guards now are intensely vigilant. Many of the kids are reluctant to step into the water.







I smile at their reticence until I go in ankle deep and get nearly knocked down by a wave that came out of nowhere (as I was busy taking this photo).






I"m wet up to my waist! Time to rinse off under the fresh water showers by the beach stairs. I go back to my coastal walk, making my way south toward the rocks that jut out into the ocean, but can be reached by a footbridge which, they say, was designed by the not unknown to us Gustave Eiffel. You can see a fragment of it here:






Looking south, you can now see both mountains and coast -- the Spanish coast.






There is a boundary somewhere on that stretch of land. With what meaning, given that people on both sides of that border regard themselves as Basque?

Sometimes, Monet would tell you, boundaries are so vague and fluid. Sometimes you can't even tell what's what. Yes, I see that before my very eyes right now. White, blue, water, sky, mountains... all merging into something that I experience as one.







I do a timed release photo. It just seems fitting at the moment.






And I turn now to the narrow city streets.


I don't typically search out a lunch, but I am hungry! And we live in such curious times: I take out my iPhone. All cell service is of course disconnected for the duration of the trip, but I subscribe to WiFi on the go in France -- something that is so incredibly easy (and cheap) that I can't think why I never heard of it until this year. I carry a little hot spot in my purse and I have WiFi. I can text, call, check email, bring up maps and, this afternoon, look up restaurants I pass to make sure they are beloved rather than despised.


I don't really want a full meal and so I am delighted to come across this place ("Puig & Daro"): it has tapas and a jovial, youthful (I call anything below age fifty youthful) atmosphere.







I love everything about it. I point to a few tapas I'd like and I'm set.







And I don't neglect a dessert: the Basque cake, this one with strawberry jam.








Despite the coffee, I am thinking how easy it would be to just doze off in the (nearby) hotel room. But there are competing forces. Photos to sort through, thoughts to reel in and simplify (it's rarely good to go into the evening with reels of complicated thoughts spinning in your head).

And of course, there is dinner. Tonight I go to Chez Albert, one of the three restaurants that hover by the old Biarritz port.

The line is long even for people like me, who have thought about it in advance and reserved a table. The place is not intimate or small, but it is really among the best of the best of all these waterside fish eateries I know. I ask my waiter how many chefs are in the (open) kitchen. I'm guessing three, he says two plus an assistant. For all the tables they serve, that is nothing short of amazing. The food is fresh and honest alright and I am happy as can be with my warm seafood salad...







... and bream for a main course, prepared in the "Spanish way." The waiter explains -- bream is really a flavorless fish. You need to spice it up somewhat. They do that and it's great. As is the dessert of chopped fruits in a custardy sauce.

I stroll up to the old streets again. It's crazy busy there and I see why: the Euro 2016 soccer finals are on tonight and France is up against Iceland. You remember Iceland? That little country that defeated the big star, Great Britain the day after Britain voted to exit the EU?

There are a lot of flags in the bars tonight and they're not of GB or Iceland.

And again, I think back to all the soccer finals I have accidentally encountered in my travels through France in June and July. I hope now that the excitement of winning (and France does win tonight, 5 - 2) is merely an all in good fun thing. That after the game, everyone returns to what's really important. Like making sure your girlfriend is having a fine evening over at her family's place...






Or catching a whiff of something beautiful... Perhaps a sunset over the Atlantic?

There are two kids playing on that beach. Oh, how I wish there was a third! A certain girl who is just two days short of being a year and a half.






Yes, I'm sure there is somewhere a moon out there for you this evening. May it shine brightly over all those who want nothing more than a quiet evening to think good thoughts about the people they love tonight.