The other day was the first one I have had in three weeks, so I figured I had better make the most of it.
A one-and-a-half-hour hour drive from Lourdes, where I have been with 55,000 pilgrims a day visiting the sites where the Vrigin Mary supposedly appeared to a young peasant girl, (Bernadette, now Saint Bernadette) takes us through beautiful rolling farmlands in the foothills of the majestic granite outcrops of the Pyrenees.
We stop for a bathroom break in the tiny agricultural hamlet of Tarbes, where we periodically pass slow-moving tractors that are clogging the road.
We arrive in Biarritz, which is an incredible mixture of architectural styles and epochs. There are old Normandy styled homes with red brick and wooden beams, next to Parisian aristocratic apartments and, of course, newer seaside villas with the customary terra cotta-tiled roofs.
The town is set high on bluffs overlooking a gorgeous curling bay ringed by the Pyrenees trailing into nearby Spain. Grand houses are set on the cliffs overlooking alkaline blue water that reminds me of the color of the Adriatic sea in Italy. The sand is a coarse tan brown made up of polished pebbles eroded from the coastal cliffs.
In the distance, the distinctive "Three Crowns" mountain is a landmark from just about anywhere in the town. It's shaped like cow udders thrust into the sky, dwarfing nearby peaks and creating a distinctive backdrop to nearly every sight in the city.
We stop at a Sunday (Dimanche) outdoor bazaar, where a man from Kashmir hawks scarves and incense and Frenchmen sell beautiful handmade clothing.
We go into a market with the freshest produce one has ever seen. The interior market is glutted with locally caught fish, vegetables from local farms, including large arrays of the au currant seasonal delicacy, the "cepes" mushroom (which causes an autumnal frenzy in France - it's used in crepes and sauces and salads). There are all manner of freshly baked breads, cut flowers and even a counter just for local boutique olive oils and tapinades.
I decide to venture out even further to a shop whose sole specialty is rotisserie chicken. That's all they sell, so that level of specialization bespeaks of quality. It is delicious. I talk to a friendly Brit in line and he offers me a bottle of white wine from a vineyard not 20 kilometers out of town - equally delicious when paired with the delicate flavors of the chicken.
Along the quaint beach town's main street are numerous wine shops, upscale home décor boutiques, and tapas bars - betraying the influence of nearby Spain. The locals are well coiffed, well heeled and friendly, with a breezy "beach" attitude that reminds me of good ol' California.
Onto the beach, which is packed with sun worshippers - many of them young and old alike, readily expose what God gave them to his warm caressing sun. I am more prudish and enjoy our feast on a big fleece blanket smuggled from the hotel room in a garbage bag.
The main sight is the surfing. Biarritz, which is on the Atlantic coast, is a hotbed of international surfing competition. A destination as respected among tube-riders as Hawaii or Australia. There are upwards of two hundred surfers in the water today and the waves are relentless - so much so that we have to continually move our chattel out of their reach as the tide pushes them further and further up the beach.
Wave-carved boulders sit sentinel out in the breakers, leading the eye down the cove to perhaps the most remarkable sight in Biarritz, the Palais Hotel built by Napoleon for his wife Eugenie. The maroon manse is appointed like a grand fin-de-siecle Parisian Hotel - fin de the 18th century that is. Lathered in a bright red color to offer a breezy feel to the officious architecture, I'm told by our French confidant Eric, that rooms there are upwards of 2000 Euro a night. Show me to Le Motel Six.
After hours of laissez-faire sunbathing, I venture over to Biarritz's very own totem to the Virgin Mary. It's starting to seem like the maxim on French license plates should be "Mary was Here" because she IS seemingly everywhere. Out on one of the stately rock outcrops a few meters out into the surf, a statue of the virgin watches protectively over her coastal flock. The bridge that leads to her over the waves was built by a certain Monsieur Eiffel - yes, the same one that built the eponymous Parisian tower.
After the beach, Eric takes us down the coast a bit to a Basque town right at the Spain/France border. The language, a lyrical mix of Spanish, French, Portuguese and other spices thrown in can be heard among the locals and on the radio. The houses take on a distinctive appearance as well. White stucco facades are accented by either bright red or bright green shutters and elaborate wood crosshatching and filigree. The colors all seem to have come from the same huge can of paint. It gives the town a charming uniformity and blends in with the lush green coastal foliage.
We head to a stunning beach for a sunset dinner. Out on benches by the surf where the sun sparks the peaks of the Pyrenees in the distance, we feast on local Basque dishes. This is also the season for a large sweet red pepper that is distinct to this region. It's harvested at this time of year and many houses are nearly covered with long ropes of the peppers drying in the sun. We have a dish of these simmered in sauce - local oysters with an onion and vinegar sauce and a fresh catch local fish, served whole with heaps of sautéed garlic.
I spy a little park and take a ride on the swing - one is never too old to swing! I meet a couple camped out in a VW Westfalia in the parking lot - the guy is from San Francisco, here chasing the waves with his German girlfriend. They are friendly and cook for themselves in the full moonlight.
Full to the gills, a bit sun burned, and determined that I will return to explore even more, I hop in the car and ride back to Lourdes under a full moon.
Comments (8)
We're all glad to hear you're having a great trip, but you are missing the excitement of seeing George W's party implode. It looks like W. will need one of those miracles you're searching for in order to maintain control of Congress.
Posted by: Steve Urbanski on October 12, 2006 21:44
That sounded a lot like a promotion for the food channel, and I thought I knew food. I didnt have dinner yet, now I'm getting really hungry. I hope you are bringing home some of those peppers for everyone to taste.
Posted by: Steve on October 12, 2006 23:48
Speaking of God...God you're gorgeous!
Posted by: luke on October 14, 2006 18:59
Sounds amazing. I did note that you had enough time to share about your day off with us though, thanks.
Posted by: kevin on October 17, 2006 06:21
Glad to know you are not saving the world every second of the day.
Posted by: Julie on October 17, 2006 09:55
What are you doing over there with a monumetnal mid-term fast approaching?
Come back for a week or two until we've turned this thing around in November, then go back, cook, chase down the Virgin Mary (now appearing in your local tree stump or office window) and chase those swarmy Spanish men.
Posted by: bill on October 20, 2006 11:45
Don't worry I am back, just did Scarbrough the other day and came into Philly to help there. I will be goign to 12 different states in the next few weeks but during every spare moment and on my day off I will be campaigning and doing radio and tv. I am coming home to PA for the 3 last days to make sure my knuckles are bloody from knocking on doors for Rendell, Casey, Murphy, Sestack adn great house members like Daylin Leach and aspiring Olvia Brady.
The timing is nto ideal I agree but I will do everything I can I promise. Look for blogs and op-eds leading up to the election as well.
BEst flavia
Posted by: Flavia on October 20, 2006 12:16
You Say////"Mary supposedly appeared" .... Why do you treat the Mother of God with such skepticism...! Pray a Rosary.. Say a Chaplet of Divine Mercy..
Posted by: Kevin in Kuwait on March 22, 2007 02:30