Back to Basque

Holidays are something everyone looks forward to. We plan and anticipate these times, enjoying them completely when they happen and are then sad when they end. For me, when you add in family and loved ones into the equation – it’s even better. 5 Star happiness I call it.

There is always something special and unique about spending time with family. Usually it is limited to birthdays, funerals and Christmas, and anything added to that is really just icing on the cake. Its hard to put into words the comforting feeling I get when hanging with loved ones, good times or bad times, and especially with my immediate family. My mum, my brother, Simon, and I have always been close, a very tight knit group of three. As we have spent recent years in separate states or abroad, any extra time together now is precious.

It was because of this that I almost peed my pants with excitement when Simon and his girlfriend, Ida, decided to escape from Norway and met us in SW France/Spain for a 2 week getaway. We met them first in San Sebastian. There was no need to ask me twice to head back to San Sebastian.

Tim and I headed back up the coast of Spain, to meet Simon and Ida in this city of old time maritime feel mixed with new hip excitement. Pintxos aplenty were guzzled down on top of a visit to the infamous mussel bar. All was washed down with cold beer and great conversation.

After a fun night we headed to Biarritz, where we set up camp. Although the campsite was in a flawless location on the beach front, the rain set in and the surf was not as good as we had hoped, but it didn’t dampen our smiles. We still had a great week of beach time when the sun came out, surfing each day and many funny conversations filled with laughter and sore cheeks.

The weeklong experience was highlighted by a visit to a local Basque festival with Ida’s friend, Olaia, in her hometown Evrenteria. We had a full packed night wandering the streets from stage to stage, bar to bar, dancing and chatting broken English to Olaia’s friends. We were surprised by a mechanical firework running of the bulls, plus loads of traditional Basque musicians and parades. 

The last stage for the night was awesome with a ragamuffin group who bounced the crowd around. 

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The whole night had a great atmosphere and it amazed us all how an entire community can come together in the streets of their ‘village’ to celebrate unity and independence. The spirit of the festival was one of exuberant intoxication. It was a far cry from what occurs at this type of event in Australia or London. There was no fights, no beers shattered, no drunken yobbos pissing in public. It was simply all smiles and celebration.

This epic night was tempered by the news only hours before of the Oslo bombing, just meters away from Simon and Ida’s apartment. Worry set in immediately for the safety of family and friends. Ida, being a news reporter for the national news station, was inundated with calls and messages. Local Basque people on the streets even asked her if her family was ok. When a disaster hits of this extreme, the whole world stops in worry. No matter how far you are or if you know anyone there or not, your heart skips a beat with worry.

After a fun night of street dancing and drinking, the night hit another shock as we learnt of Amy Winehouse’s death on the way home. Tim and I had just been listening to her music days prior, as we had planned to go to a festival featuring her in Portugal next month. How one night can go from moments of highs to lows so fast.

Our last night with Simon and Ida was spent back in San Sebastian for a free Jazz festival where we got to see ’Cut Copy’ live on the beach. With the same great energy we had experienced the nights before we danced away on the beautiful bay of San Sebastian. What a perfect way to end our unforgettable week.

So until the A team meets again, Tim and I head off to Portugal with minds filled of funny conversations and good vibes, cheers to that!

Basque Beauty: “Pintxos Perfect"

The Basque country often gets lost within its sister European countries. Many Aussies, who are far removed from European politics, are unaware that there is this beautiful green country, perched in the South-West region of France and North West of Spain. The Basque country has a strong history, government and unique language all of its own.

This region itself is approximately one tenth the size of Tasmania, has a population of just over two million people and is the richest part of Spain. We learnt of their   turbulent past, including the violent struggle for independence and a dark oppression of their culture, by Franco during his dictatorship, which began in the 1930’s.

Technically, the region begins in Biarritz, but you don’t really get a proper ‘Basque’ feel until you get a touch further south to a small town called Guethary. The houses begin to become a bit more uniform, painted in white and red. Basque flags are flown higher than any other, and the beret’s take on a slightly different shape.

The first strong cultural hit we experienced, was when we arrived in one of our favourite cities on earth, San Sebastian. It’s a hard to describe. It’s like old-world meets new, sitting on the beachside, where there is surf! There is a vibrant youthful feel all around, but the cobbled streets, framed by tall buildings ooze an historical charm that creeps into your bones. One of the typical things to do in ‘San Seb’ is to hit the pintxos bars in ‘Old Town’. 

A pintxos (prounced pincho), is like a small snack or tapas, with a thick toothpick through it. Technically speaking, the toothpick is called a pintxos, but everyone refers to the food by the same name. You skip through bar after bar, selecting an array of these foods, drinking and talking. It’s a cruisy way to stuff yourself full for an afternoon, or into the night.

Tim had previous been to Basque country and it holds a special place in his heart, mainly due to one of the most welcoming, generous and kind couples we have ever met. Jokin and Zuberoa are good friends that we had met year’s prior in Torquay. When Tim visited France a few years later, they went beyond any expectation with their hospitality and generosity. I was so keen to see the wonders of what Tim had told stories of on his return. This time, we were both welcomed with the same hospitality. Zube and Jokin embraced us like family and made us feel like we could live in this wonderful country of theirs forever.

Jokin and Zuberoa live in the most beautiful location in a small village called Bakio’ on the Basque coast. The view from their house is stunning. The front yard looks over a cute little beach break, similar to Jan Juc.

Just 5 minutes north of Bakio is the famous world class wave, Mundaka. We had one fun session there, and world champ Carissa Moore was out there shredding, putting all of the guys to shame. Tim said he felt like a complete kook watching her surf. I have for years wished of visiting and surfing this wave. I had as my screen saver for 3 years an epic shot of Mundaka, looking into the barrel with the church in the background. As I sat out in the water looking up at the church, I had to pinch myself that I was really here, in Europe and surfing Mundaka with Tim.

Tim feels so at home in Bakio, that I often lose him, only to find him again; sitting, checking the surf while talking to Jokin and Zube’s dog Zuli.

I also fell in love with ‘Zuli’. She is as beautiful natured as her owners, and it made Tim and I miss our ‘Mojo’. Dogs really are man’s best friend, The love for a dog cannot be explained until you own one yourself. As many say, they provide unconditional love and unquestionable loyalty.

Tim loves Basque food, from their famous paella, millions of pintxos, octopus, cuttle fish cooked in its black ink, amazing seafood and loads of yummy sweet treats, especially the Nutella pie!

I was lucky enough to receive a one-on-one cooking class with Jokin, learning how to make the most perfect Tortilla.

Another highlight of Basque country was visiting the Guggenheim museum in Bilbao. There is a really awesome puppy of flowers out the front. The art inside is worlds away from the renaissance experience you get in Rome or Paris. It’s full of modern installations, sculpture and some paintings. It really showed us how art can be what ever you like. One person’s opinion of what ‘art’ is, is always different to another’s.  We had some funny conversations on how you could literally take a poop in the middle of a room and sprinkle it with hundreds and thousands and call it an artistic expression of how you feel. Each to their own we say.

After a relaxing week at the Bakio retreat we headed back up the coast for some family time back in Biarritz, but more on that next time we get to a real wifi connection!

Rome: The Monumental City

Europe is so tiny. 

We were able to skip from France, down to Spain and catch a flight to Rome in a day. It’s so cool to be able to zip across to another country and experience a completely different culture.

The Monumental City. It’s such an apt tag. There are ancient buildings, fountains, statues, museums, gardens and archaeological sites up to the yin yang. The history of this place is completely mind-boggling. If you really think about the events that have taken place in the city over the past five thousand years, you begin to feel very insignificant, very quickly. We are just are dot of ink on single page of an infinite book. It was a privilege to get some insight into times gone by, and soak in the incredible artistic and architectural achievements the human race is capable of. Plus the food is incredible. 

Tara stuffed herself to bursting with antipasto buffets, while I gorged on the soft Italian pastas, gelatos, red-wines and pizzas. I even had my first coffee in 10 years, which I’m pretty sure they laced with cocaine.

It was 35 degrees plus every day we were in Rome. Without the reprieve of the seabreeze it was sweltering during the day, the heat is a clamping vice. The only chance you have to escape is to dip your head in a fountain, or find refuge in one of the thousands of cool churches in the city. 

The first church we entered, we actually got knocked back by the bouncer at the door. At first I thought maybe he had read Hellbound, but then he explained that Tara’s skirt was a bit risqué for a place of worship. She was then directed to a spot where you can wrap yourself in a white paper-material sheet, so you can cover up. Luckily we learned this before hitting the Vatican, or we would have had to buy a shawl from one of the many Moroccan street hawkers, who make their living making sure unsuspecting tourists meet God’s dress code. 

We checked off the list the typical tourist sites: The Colosseum, The Trevi Fountain (amazing at night), The Spanish Steps, The Pantheon, etc etc etc etc. It was a bit of a whirlwind.

The biggest day was a pilgrimage to the Vatican City. We are up before dawn, bought some fruit at a street-market, which was setting up for the day and caught the first tram to the world’s smallest and richest country. Normally Saint Peter’s Square is teeming with tourists, but at 6am it was deserted. The occasional nun walked by on her way to work, and as the bells chimed for 7am, heralding the opening of St. Peter’s Basilica, we went through the metal detectors to experience the seat of Catholic power on earth. 

The biggest thing that sticks out is the wealth of the place. There is more gold foil, precious historical objects and priceless art than I could have even imagined. While we found ourselves overwhelmed with the sense of beauty, you can’t help but think that all of these riches should be going toward helping the poor. We must have passed a half-dozen homeless on the streets on our way there in the morning. The phrase ‘sell the Vatican, feed the world’ really seems to ring true when you’re standing agog at the sheer volume of artefacts in the city. It all adds to the experience, and we both wondered, if there is a God up there, would he prefer art and monuments dedicated to his wonder preserved in one place, or humanity preserving a sense of equality in the world? It’s a debate that is too big for one little blog.

Nevertheless we were floored by the achievements of the renaissance. Art is truly something that makes humans unique. It’s breathtaking to behold centuries-old works, whose magnificence haven’t been dimmed over time. They are still genius. The symbolism embedded into much of the art gives it an even wider dimension once you learn of it. The Sistine Chapel, was packed full of people, like stunned little sardines, all looking up at the ceiling, mouths open in wonder at one Michelangelo created essentially on his own in just four years. There is reason it’s so popular.

Pictures hardly do any of the Vatican or Rome justice, and neither do my pitiful words. If you ever have the opportunity to see the place, seize it with both hands.