'Breaking up is hard to do ...' So sang David Cassidy.
Well, packing up is hard too. We really don't want to leave our beloved Biarritz but we must if we are to see and do all the other things we have planned. We are off to San Sebastián.
The drive south to St Jean de Luz for a look-see en route is swift and easy. Connie takes us there with ease. What a splendid spot. A gorgeous horseshoe bay, sparkling under sunny skies. Sea walls and cafes. A fortress over there and promenade all the way along the front. I love promenades. This one is full of artists showing their work - wall to wall paintings and sculptures on a Sunday afternoon. Colourful. All styles on show. It adds extra interest as we walk right to the far end.
There are swimmers and standup paddle boarders; this is not a surf beach. The views are amazing from here to there and everywhere in between. We walk and walk. Up to the little church on the hill. Round the tip of the headland where a gaggle of jet skiers churn the water into a series of straight lines, like planes making contrails. Yachts sail, canoes paddle, fishing boats fish. It's all happening out there on the deep blue sea. Despite it being a contemporary nautical playground, there is an air of old fashioned grandeur. And plenty of cyclists.
We'd like to linger but we push onwards into Spain, and onto Hondarribia, an old coastal town that is well worth a stop, as Jose and Corinne had mentioned during our cosy lunch with them back in Dordogne days.
The marina is full of boats and the Main Street is full of people. Today is "Hondarribia Day", unbeknownst to us. Green is their colour and it is everywhere, much like a St Patrick's Day celebration. The whole town is out on this sunny Sunday and the town is buzzing. The beautiful Main Street is pedestrian-only and lined with shady trees. Pintxos bars are everywhere and they are bursting at the seams with people spilling out into the street. The vibe is happy cheery and it is hard to find a seat. We get into the spirit of things. I am even, by chance, wearing a little bit of green!
The Basque language, with its abundance of Xs and Zs, is truly incomprehensible and we take a punt on ordering. No one much speaks English. In French Pays Basque we could at least rely on French to get us by. Here ... Floundering. My tiny bit of Spanish is rendered rather useless, those Xs getting in the way. But not to worry, we eat and drink and be merry with all the Hondarribians regardless of language.
After our tasty meal, we walk up through the old town with its fortress. We have been through many old towns already but this one is different again. And fabulous, as always.
We exit onto the marina, walk along the sea front, which has a completely different feel to the old town - rather resort-like - and hop into the car to head for San Sebastián. It is only a hop, skip and jump from here.
Connie gets us there okay but then things turn to custard. San Sebastián is mostly one-way streets. Connie does not seem to know this. We turn her off and drive along the waterfront. Thronging with people, we wonder what is going on, this seems beyond comprehension for late on a Sunday afternoon.
So ... Here we are in this much anticipated place and Connie has gone haywire, Brett is wanting to find a hotel on the beach by the old part of town but we can't spot one, and we can't quite get to the old town on account of one-way systems and narrow roads. Parking is impossible, people are everywhere, buses are rampant and I am driving and trying to sort my way through all this mayhem. I am not seeing much to please me about San Sebastián so far, only chaos, and we are having an irritable moment or two. Aaaargh. It's not meant to be like this ...
We lurch into a parking building so we can get a more serene gauge of things, take a walk and find somewhere to stay. We are close to the old town and find a hotel but it is booked out. We stumble upon an old pension and ring the bell. They have a room available but only for tonight. We were hoping to stay here four nights.
But ... we then discover that the international film festival is on and this is why the city is chocca. It explains the crowds but, oh dear, we hadn't factored this into things. We take the room for the night. It is an old-fashioned room in the Pension Amaiur which we later discover is in the oldest house in San Sebastián. This would explain the staircase being sloped sideways to such an extent that it feels like you are about to fall over as you walk up it. And fall down as you go down it.
Although the pension is old, it is charming beyond belief and perfectly situated right in the thick of everything. We leave our car parked in the 24hr car park which, thankfully, is not too far away and just bring our smaller cabin bags. Lugging cases is not an option. There is no handy parking and too many steep sloping stairs and so we suffice with the bare essentials.
It has just gone 5.30pm once we have sorted ourselves (and gone "phew"), and by now we have given up all hope of watching the All Blacks who are about to kick off against Argentina. No one so far can point us to a sports bar and it would probably only be showing soccer anyway. After the last hour of mayhem trying to sort ourselves, we are past caring too much. We go in search of a much needed drink and some Pintxos. Ah, but within a few steps of Pension Amaiur I spot a bar with a sign above saying Pension Aussie. It must be showing the game, I suggest. We walk into the bar below the sign - which is actually nothing to do with the pension - and yes indeed they are. It starts in five minutes. The Pintxos can wait.
It's a tiny bar, with an Australian couple and an Argentinian couple in there waiting for kick off. How perfect. We drink wine and chat and watch Argentina give NZ a fright. The Argentinians are brother and sister. From Córdoba, they are both young, both doctors, both gorgeous, both speak perfect English, both love rugby. Miguel is doing an internship in Madrid. He works in A&E. Magdalena works in ICU and is visiting her brother from Argentina. If I was suddenly in medical trouble, right here in this tiny bar, I would be in good hands!
Beverly and Peter are from Perth, travelling about Spain, and full of the joys of everything. We all chat and watch rugby and drink wine and watch rugby and chat. And drink wine. Two Aussie guys arrive and join in. Magdalena and I discuss the merits of Argentina's No. 10 and No. 12. Not referring to their rugby skills, I might add. She loves Richie McCaw. I think he might like her more than a bit too, if he was right here with us this evening instead of in the Sin Bin. She is a perfect 10!
When NZ has sealed the win we bid farewell and head off to eat. Pintxos are everywhere. People are everywhere. The streets and bars are a mix of chaos, conviviality and culinary genius. The Pintxos maestros are a breed of man that can multi-task admirably. Slicing, plating, heating, pouring, bantering ... they can take orders and money and ply food and drink with the finesse of the very best jugglers in the land. It's astounding. It's a profession. It's delicious to watch and to eat. We love Pintxos. And the effervescent Xavier at Gambertas is up there with the best Pintxo makers!
We do a Pintxo crawl, from one Pintxo bar to the next, meeting locals and foreigners and loving every minute. We have dessert at La Cepa and a nightcap for good measure ... Pedro Ximenez. Sherry divinity. We finish up at about the same time the city closes up shop. By 11pm everyone heads home for bed. Our room in Pension Amaiur is peaceful and comfortable. And tomorrow we will sort further accommodation and explore this city in daylight ...
Observation of the Day: French children seem rather well behaved. I saw just one child whining, in St Jean de Luz, otherwise they were all models of good behaviour. This is not definitive, of course, but the many kids we encountered on French soil were exemplary, likeable, with parents to match. The general French finesse is, it seems, in the genes.
On into Spain and a different child emerges ... More demanding, loud, chaotic. The world, it seems, is all about them, their exuberance bordering on pandemonium!
The difference is marked indeed.
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