France Once Again: Chapter 13teen: Biarritz and San Sebastian

Biarritz and San Sebastian

Grande Plage

Biarritz is beach, Biarritz is Basque, Biarritz is beautiful, and on and so much more. This seaside city, established in the latter half of the 1800's, lies at the foot of the Pyrenees on the Bay of Biscay.

We have never been here before. Biarritz has not been on our list of places to visit in France, perhaps because of the wrap it has had: you know, a retreat for the royalty, the wealthy, the elite. But that is its early history, and while it remains a magnet for the monied, this is a place for people with many interests, especially lovers of the sea, the warmth, the food and wine.

We finally came here for a look.

Anne Sophie, the lady of the house, greeted us at the door of our accommodation with such an infectious smile, from head to toe, that my road weariness disappeared at once. We were welcomed to Biarritz with open arms.

The second of our three days here, we went to Spain - just a very short drive down the coast to San Sebastian for some tapas. More on that below.

the blue, the red, and the green

Lucky for us, Anne Sophie had a day off work and was a willing and knowledgeable guide.

This is the Basque country of France, in language, food and drink, and architecture. The ancient Basque language, that bears little relationship to either French or Spanish, is taught in some schools here. Street and road signs, and business signs are bilingual, just as they are back home in Canada; and as we will find them to be in parts of Brittany with the Breton language.

Basque traditional colours are blue, green and red. These we see throughout Biarritz and the surrounding countryside.

Blue represents the sea - the fishermen
Red represents the blood of animals - the farmers of warm blooded creatures
Green, for the farmers of non-animal agricultural products.

The buildings in the photo above are typical for the area.

Hôtel de Palais

Napolean lll built this palatial "summer home" for his wife, Eugénie. It has become the signature hotel for Biarritz. We walked freely through the lobby and dining room. We'll get a room next time.

The sculpture at the entrance to the Hôtel de Palais. (the big white house in the centre is many blocks away. My long lens just happened to place it there).

Plage de la Côtés des Basques

The guys on the right jogged, we walked - for about ten kilometres, starting from our room at the south end of town, down into the city, on to the north beach, then all the way back, UP hills and stairs. It was T-shirt and shorts weather.

Pointe Datalaye

The shoreline includes everything from rocky outcrops and shipwreck rocks, through old marinas, to beautiful sandy beaches, with surfing waves and calm swimming coves.

The local marine rescue team put on a show for passersby with a training exercise.

We watched the simulation of a man stranded way offshore, in danger of drowning. A rescue team paddled out to him at speed, dragging a long tether out with them from the shore.

They secured the injured man on a floating stretcher and brought him to the beach where he was treated with medical intervention.

...ooo0ooo...

San Sebastian, is a very sizeable city just across the border to the south. For some reason we expected a small fishing town, and were quite surprised at the size of the city.

We parked in the usual Euro-city centre underground parking garage - challenging to find, to pay for, to exit - then we walked around the streets of the old town like all the other tourists. April 19 is definitely a bank/school holiday week. It was almost like family day at Disneyland (well, not quite).

See the church?

Now see the closeup of the centre apex (below). I call this the crown, the ship and the ogre. But the student of Christian architecture will have a much less touristic name for it, and a volume of very interesting facts that go way beyond the scope of this blog.

A good friend and fellow traveller (Bill McGowan, I think) once told me that you can always pick out the tourist on the street in New York because he is always looking up, gazing in wonder at the skyscrapers, a perfect target for the pickpocket.

Well, that's me, I guess, but it is the photographer in me that is always looking up. Actually, I am a bit of a bobble-head, always looking for the next great shot, wherever it might be.

For example, check out the next picture that I call fishing for love.

I wonder how many people saw these guys up on the third floor balcony in a very narrow street. I have not yet been pick-pocketed, by the way.

We are really here for the tapas and we were not disappointed. Tapas bars are everywhere in the old city. The second tapas bar we went to was far more colourful than the one in the photo, but I had packed my camera away and missed that shot. Sorry about that.

Typically, one enters the crowded bar, standing room only, bellies up to the counter, not rudely, but not casually either or you will never be served. The objective is to make eye contact with one of the busy Basque servers who will hand you a large plate that you fill up with your own personal selection of tasty food samples. This is a smorgasbord with colourful concoctions of seafood, meats, egg, vegetables, sauces and spices - culinary inventions without limit.

This was like eye candy for me. The challenge is to be patient for your turn, not to drool on the platters, not to take too much time with your selection to piss off the Basque guy behind you who actually knows what he is doing and knows that you do not. And, of course, balancing your full plate on one hand, while fumbling with your wallet (trying not to get pick-pocketed for the first time in the elbow-to-elbow crowd), not having a clue how much the server is asking for. One of your four eyes is seeking out a place to stand and eat this stuff, the other is on your partner, so as not to finally lose her in Spain, your third eye is on the small stubby manzana wine glass, marvelling at how the server is able to pour a generous serving of local white from a metre above the glass as is the local custom, without wasting a splashed drop anywhere; and your fourth eye, and so on ...

A riot of colours and an anarchy of tastes. What a trip, as we would say in the sixties.

The next day, back in Biarritz, Anne Sophie introduced me to her friend, Mark, who together with his brother, run the oyster bar in the covered market downtown. Needless to say, I bought the taster package: 6 huitres + 1 verre de vin for nine euros. And we traded stories too.

les Halles

Place Jean Baptiste Lasalle (below) is one of the most people friendly places we have ever experienced. Why? This is a place where people of all ages, from great grandparents to toddlers, from jocks to the disabled, can hang out with a drink in their hand, bought at the bar or brought from home.

Kids are swinging on tree branches, a game of pétanques is being played on the hard packed dirt, bicycles are permitted, as are courteous smokers.

We walked here from our room, five minutes away. I was drinking a cold beer from my backpack, Jo, a glass of Aperol spritzer from the bar at the promenade. This was the magic hour, in the fading light of day when the shadows are long and the colours become saturated.