Off to the South

On July 12, after two days of shivering in Paris, I boarded the high speed train to Bayonne in the southwest corner of France. And there had "Blue skies, nothin' but blue skies from from now on!"

This Bayonne is pronounced "bye" as in "bye-bye" and "yun" as in nothing I can think of. That other pronunciation you were thinking of, (bay- yone), is a city in New Jersey. Both Bayonnes are near the Atlantic coast, albeit on opposite sides of the Pond. 

Bayonne, France, is a small city at the confluence of two rivers - the Nive which flows into the Adour which then flows to the Atlantic, 7 kilometers away. (Let's see, divide by 8 and multiply by 5 = 5 miles.) Both are part of the tidal basin, so the currents flow both ways depending on whether the tide is coming or going out. This also explains the muddy color, as the clay sediments are constantly being stirred up. One hardly notices this thanks to the colorful house painting!

On the quay along the Nive.

Restored covered market

Typical Basque-style house.

My serious professional justification for this July trip to France was to attend a 12 day seminar for French teachers. Were I still teaching, it would count as professional development and allow me to keep my teacher certification. My motivation this time (and last time, and most times...) is that (a) French is spoken the entire time and I therefore keep up my fluency and  (b) the organizer does a brilliant job of creating a whole experience including study of a different region every summer, hiring a local professor to lead the study sessions, and mixing in interesting excursions, afternoon tourism, beautiful hotels, and restaurants offering authentic regional and traditional French cuisine.  And let's not forget that it's really, really fun.

Here is the scene of our first lunch in a riverside café.

Bayonne is in the heart of the French Basque country in southwestern France. The Basque community extends from Bayonne south into northern Spain. 

Bayonne is at the northernmost point along the Atlantic coast in the dark turquoise area above. The three blue-ish regions are in France: the yellow, tan and two green ones are in Spain.

The very ancient culture of the Basque people has survived thanks to the Pyrennees Mountains which isolated the area from the rest of Europe throughout history.  Their language, Euskara, is related to no other language, and is the last remaining descendant of pre-Indo-European languages in Europe; i.e from before 3000 bce. Some think that its roots go back to the Stone Age. The Romans, who aggressively spread Latin all over the Mediterranean world, never made it here. 

The Basques fought on the losing side during the Spanish Civil War in 1938, and suffered harsh repression afterwards under the long dictatorship of General Franco. Just speaking a few words of Basque, or showing the colors of the Basque flag could get one tossed into prison, tortured and/or killed by the Guardia Civil. 

Basque flag

Despite General Franco's harsh repression of the Spanish Basques, or perhaps because of that repression, there is now a renaissance of Basque language and a strengthening of their community - now an autonomous region within Spain.  The French Basques are more assimilated into the majority culture, a goal of the French Republic dating back to the Revolution. The idea was to implement free, public education to unify what was then a patchwork of regional cultures.

OK - the teacher is quitting for the day. Here are some pretty pictures.

Medieval Fair in the old part of the city.

Though running of the bulls is traditional in this region, the Bayonne fair has opted for a safer street event!

My favorite fair event - mountain cheeses! 

I admit I was put off by the very un-natural colors of these cheeses.

Sightseeing in Bayonne took us to old streets, a cathedral, and a chocolate tasting.

I think the yellow part is the recently restored part of the facade, as it is the color of the original stone.

My room-mate, Laurie, and I at the chocolate museum.

I met a new friend there!

For only 6 euros ($8) we not only learned everything there is to know about chocolate, but we got to taste lots! And you can bet that I did not skip even one of these.

One evening In a café by the river, I had this wonderful dish. It's mussels a la plancha, with a sauce of olive oil, garlic and the local spice, espelette. 

Even for me, this was too much to finish! I hated to leave even one.  

So "Au revoir" for now - Next time I'll take you on a trip to the Pyrenees mountains and beautiful Basque villages. 

Day Two: In rainy, chilly Paris

July 19, 2014

So what do you do on a rainy, chilly, cloudy day in Paris when the suitcase is packed with lightweight clothes for the southern climes?

What I did do, was put on every shirt with long sleeves (all two of them) and head off to my favorite cemetery. 

First I walked to the Père LaChaise métro stop where there's a classic café.

Warmed up with a grand crème, a nice big cup of coffee and foamy cream. 

The view from the café terrace allowed me to admire this well-preserved Art Nouveau Métro station - vintage 1900. 

This one still has the ruby-red lights. 

My copy of Pariscope listed a guided visit to the cemetery's celebrity tombs that very afternoon. The guide was familiar to me -I had taken a tour with him on a previous trip. He calls himself a "nécrosophe", by which I think he means that he is an expert on the cemeteries of Paris. Which he absolutely is! And has great stories about those buried in Paris cemeteries.

I met the guide, Bertrand Bayern, at Place Gambetta, and along with 16 others headed to the first celebrity tomb - that of Oscar Wilde.

For those who've seen his tomb before, or who've seen the vignette about Oscar Wilde and his tomb in the film Paris, Je t'aime (remember, former French 3 students?) , you'll note the change. Walled off by a plastic screen and scrubbed of all the lipstick kiss-prints, it now looks sort of naked. Folks can only throw flowers over the barrier to honor the well-known playwright, poet, and wit. He died in Paris, broken and destitute, after serving 2 years at hard labor in England for "gross indecency", i.e. being a homosexual. As he lay dying in a shabby Paris hotel room, his last words were- "Either this wallpaper goes, or I do". I sure hope that story is true.

Next up, the tomb of Antoine-Augustin Parmentier - the man who promoted potatoes as a food source in France. 

There are many references to potato cultivation on the tomb.

And people still bring potatoes to him - kind of saying "Thanks, Parmentier! We're loving those potatoes you brought us!"

Then there's the most famous tomb of all - at least for Americans, and it seems that these days, Italians. This is of course the very troublesome tomb of 
Jim Morrison. 

Cemetery personnel have had to clean up after and guard against onslaughts of Doors fans who've held music festivals there, scattered the surrounding graves with graffiti, and in general behaved boorishly and disrespectfully. At one time there were uniformed guards near Morrison's grave. Now they have put guard rails - which seem rather easy to surmount.

In addition, they've installed video surveillance. Note the fancy lamp, next to the tree - in a cemetery where there is no electricity!

It seems that Morrison is VERY popular with young Italians these days. We saw a group arriving with their guitars as we walked away. There is always a huge gathering on July 3, the anniversary of his death. 

Note that the tree in the photo has been protected with an apron of bamboo. It seems the new thing is to honor Jim by sticking wads of chewed gum onto the tree. 

All I can say is - eeyew.

And then there's the couple who decided that, since they had no progeny to leave their money to, they would indulge themselves by designing their own tomb. They are both still alive. He is well-known for having photographed cemeteries all over the world. On the right is one of those marks you can scan with your smartphone to take you right to his website.

As I only have a dumbphone, I googled him and found the site at: http://www.andrechabot.com/fr/f-photo.html

Here's the tomb, featuring of course a camera!

And according to our guide, they keep this small broom just inside the door so they can sweep out the leaves that blow inside in the fall.




So you see - you can do anything you want on your tomb, or that of a loved one, at Père LaChaise. There's a fellow who loves egyptology and is constructing a small pyramid on his plot. He is painting the inside in authentic ancient Egyptian style - and after a day of painting invites friends to come join him there (at a table, inside!) for some wine.


There are kitschy tombs,

exotic ones,

and of course many ordinary ones. There are memorials to politicians, celebrities, artists, philosophers, fallen firefighters, soldiers of the Napoleanic wars, the Franco-Prussian War, World War I, World War II, Indochina, Algeria; there are memorials to victims of the Holocaust, airline disasters, and to the 20,000 Parisians killed by the French army to end the uprising in 1871. 

This last one shows the anonymous faces and hands of those nameless victims.

And I think my favorite one is the tomb of a couple who had these words engraved:

  M. et Mme. X sont arrivés à la fin de leur chemin. Et ils vous souhaitent tous "Bonne route!"

Mr. and Mrs. X have arrived to the end of their road. And they wish all of you "Happy travels!


Next stop on my travels is Bayonne, in the south of France on the Atlantic coast!

Bonjour from Paris!

Arrived to cold, rainy Paris a while back and checked into the Hotel Modern, which it decidedly was not. But the price was right, and I managed to talk them out of the 6-floor walk up room and into a first floor room with a great view of their sign.


I put on every long-sleeved item in my suitcase and headed east to where the Bastille market was in full swing.

Notice the artful tower of artichokes.  

Next I treated myself to a big cup of café crème and a croissant in one of my favorite little restaurants. They prepare specialties from the mountains of central France, a region called the Aveyron, as well as regular bistrot food. The most addictive dish they serve is aligot - a blissful mixture of mashed potatoes, Cantal cheese, garlic, and of course butter. The waiter there once told me that the ratio of cheese to potatoes is 1/1.  It's wonderful.


They don't seem to have that for breakfast however.

So fortified, I hit the long road back to the hotel.  Specifically, rue Chemin-vert - which means "Green road". 

 It seemed appropriate that it was recycling day and the entire length of the street was lined with big green recycling bins.

There are a lot of fashion wholesalers along the street, so I can clue you in that the hot item for this year is lace. Lots of it.



















Also seen, the t-shirt of 
a disappointed Argentina 
fan for the World Cup.

Sad shirt hanging in the rain.

The next step for me was a long nap to recover from jet lag.  

More later…. (yawn).

Happy Spring from Otis!

It seems late to send out those Christmas cards, so I'll wish you a Happy Spring instead. Here was the scene on our hilltop for that momentous change of season on Mar. 20.

No picnics yet.....

And still shoveling off the roof.

Even the birds didn't come out that day for Bob's fine cuisine.

I guess I won't put away the Yak Tracs yet - The driveway could freeze again.

At least we have spring blossoms inside!

Best wishes to all!