WINE, GLORIOUS WINE...ON TO THE DORDOGNE

Back over the border to France where no one cares about forms, masks or vaccination cards. Our first stop is St. Emillion, prior home of a Saint (Emillion), a sprinkling of assorted medieval religious fanatics and macaroons.  The chocolate macarons are fabulous.

The hill towns of Italy have nothing on St. Emillion. In fact the whole Perigord region features upper & lower towns best suited to agile youths and donkeys. Driving into St. Emillion you are surrounded for miles by vineyards.  From Bordeaux to Bergerac is a HUGE wine area --- and it is good. We bought a bottle of Bergerac red today for 2.99 euro and it was excellent - well at least very good. Back to St. Emilion. Due to a miscalculation, we hiked to the lower town to find the Tourist Office, which was in the upper town. Then to reach the entrance to the Monolithic Church, yes, down we go. Then, to leave, yes, up we go. This is not a few steps - more like hundreds. Panting for breath and dying for a glass of wine, we depart for our B & B. 

Before touring the Monolithic Church & St. Emillion, we went to lunch in Montagne. Arriving early for our reservation, we toured the local cemetery. Having lived in Mexico, we have come to appreciate what cemeteries say about the culture.

The ruined wall of a former church stands outside St. Emillion.

Part of the Monolithic Church carved out of the limestone. Unfortunately no photographs were allowed within the church itself.

Looking down on St. Emillion gives you a sense of its up & down nature, as well as the fact that the vines for the wine are even planted within the city itself.

Looking back at the gate that leads to the St. Emillion Cloister.

The ornate stone carving on the Church entrance &, even after all these years, some of the original color is still visible in the center.

This WW I memorial was in St. Emillion...

and this one was in Montagne. We didn't see any WWII memorials.

Far from welcoming, our confirmation has informed us that if we have the temerity to arrive before 4:30 or even try to leave our bags early or even park our car before 4:30 we will be fined --- and perhaps thrown in the stocks. That's French hospitality!? So fearfully we approach (at 4:59 exactly) to find a very sweet & welcoming host who can't do enough for us. We can only assume he was the victim of a British hen party or hosted a New Zealand rugby team and was greatly traumatized.

Oh. The Monolithic Church. It's a very large church carved out of a single rock formation over many years by many peasants. The whole town was so into carving into the foundation of the town's limestone base and using the stone for building projects that they finally realized they were going to sink the town & stopped. Whew! Not before they damaged the church, but they are remediating the damage.

After hauling ourselves out of the "pit" of lower town St. Emillion, we provisioned with wine, cheese, sausage & macaroons and dined under the wisteria laden pergola of our B & B.

Looking at the La Gomerie pond while dining under the wisteria.

Our wisteria dining location at La Gomerie.

Cyrano de _____________

Come on...I gave you a hint. Cyrano de Bergerac, yes! But no! Despite the fact that there are statues pertaining to him, wine stores named after him and pictures of him slathered throughout the town, old Cyrano had nothing to do with Bergerac. He was not born there, did not live there. Did not die there. Much as the Beach Boys boosted Huntington Beach to fame as Surf City USA, the town fathers of Bergerac just as eagerly co-opted Cyrano as their mascot/bread & butter. But, having exposed that duplicity, we shall press on to the Dordogne.

One of the more plain statues to Cyrano in Bergerac.

A rarer, but not unknown site, is a "Protestant Temple", which we spotted in Bergerac.

Bergerac has adopted the Mexican custom of putting the name of the city in a scenic spot for tourists to take selfies to prove they have in fact been to the town.

This statue of Cyrano was much more colorful than the first...

and we even spotted this Cyrano puppet.

This was our view of the Dordogne River as we had lunch in Bergerac.

Even in Bergerac this young couple demonstrated the universality of love & pizza.

This statue is not a Cyrano!

Paradise in the Perigord

We rented a gite in a town called Peyzac-le-Moustier - a thriving urban center of 167 persons. We decided (in deference to our age, Covid & loathing of packing/repacking) to stay 2 1/2 weeks in one place and day trip. Good choice. What a marvelous place! Set on 10 hectares (24.7 acres), overlooking a valley and rolling hills, it slows your heart rate and cures your sleep disturbances. Spring is fully engaged in this part of the world - so much so that we may just do a photo blog of all the amazing flora we are surrounded by. We settled in, seriously unpacked and fortified ourselves for upcoming adventures.

The irises were in full bloom throughout the Dordogne. These were on the walkway at La Cipiere, where we were staying.

This was the entrance to our gite.

All the irises made Deirdre regret the fact that we cannot grow irises in Mexico. I will just have to take lots of photos of irises to bring back to Mexico for her.

The view from our window at La Cipiere...

and the outside views of the countryside...

that greeted us every day at La Cipiere.

 ONWARD TO EUROPE

GETTING THERE IS NOT HALF THE FUN 

In the days of Covid one knew the rules of travel - DON'T! Now, in the days of quasi-Covid, life is more "iffy". Take travel documents. We were flying direct to Madrid from Guadalajara then connecting (3 hours in Madrid) to Bordeaux. Spain has an arcane (and useless) health form. One website said we didn't need it, another said we did even if we were only transiting. Our travel agent (ex travel agent) said we didn't need it. So off we sauntered to the airport formless. But NO! we did need it according to AeroMexico agents who also denied any knowledge of how to access it or fill out the astoundingly befuddling form. If not for several young passengers who were seemingly born to understand obscure online documents and how to fill them out on a cell phone, we would still be standing glazed-eyed in front of the AeroMexico check-in area. I shall not bore you with further details and hassles other than to say that the trip was hellish (going to China was easier) and I didn't sleep for 40 straight hours. But then we were in Europe. Thank God.

First Stop - Biarritz

I kind of pictured a beach resort of faded glory living off its royal legacy from the latter part of the nineteenth century. My expectations were modest, but Biarritz was extremely cool. First, it's a perfect sized small city - offers a lot but not a pain like bigger cities can be. Great food, friendly people and beautiful beaches. This is a primo surfing spot in Europe and the surfing vibe laps over (excuse the pun) into the atmosphere of the town. We witnessed Jr. lifeguards in training one morning - probably needed since the older ones drop of hypothermia. Today the water temperature is 58 degrees. We were horrified to see the youngsters gamboling in the surf (long, big surf). Later in St. Emilion we met a couple from England (Cornwall) who said they loved the Biarritz water since it was so much warmer than their beach in Cornwall. He (Hamish) is one of those cold water deep sea divers who work on underwater structures, makes gobs of $ and hopefully doesn't die young. The weather in Biarritz was blustery and bracing - a serious shift from Ajijic, but we enjoyed it actually.

A chateau in Biarritz overlooking the Atlantic.

The Biarritz lighthouse is on the right and the Hotel du Palais (formerly the summer residence of Princess Eugénie, wife of Emperor Napoleon III).

Looking across the water to the Basque country of Spain.

The Jr. lifeguards in training running out of...

and into the cold surf.

The Biarritz Casino (even though it was built in 1994) was done in the Art Deco style.

The markets of France have always been amazing and this one, Les Halles in Biarritz, did not disappoint as you can see from the photos.

Another better view of the Biarritz lighthouse...

and the power of the Atlantic surf.

Boats from this harbor in Biarritz used to go out whaling in the Atlantic.

A bridge leading to a rock island upon whose high point is the Virgin Mary and child Jesus.

This is known as the Children's Beach because it is in a protected cove.

When in France we have our big meal in the middle of the day & in the evening we have a light repast of bread, cheese, wine & (in this case) a Basque gateau. 

A better view which give you an appreciation for the size of Princess Eugénie's summer home, now the Hotel du Palais.

A natural arch carved out of the rock by the surf.

With a little imagination you can see the "rock" beast on top of this rock peering down at the Atlantic.

The power of the Atlantic waves is evident in this picture...

which is why Biarritz is the surfing capital of Europe.

The Cap Ferret lighthouse.

The tallest, longest sand dune in all of Europe can be seen across the water. We decided not to attempt the climb to the top.

The Arrechon region of France is famous for its oysters...

so we stopped here where I had a dozen raw oysters and Deirdre had shrimp.

We came across this political poster on Marie Le Pen in St. Jean de Luz. Fortunately Marie lost the election while we were here.

The harbor in St. Jean de Luz.

A Farewell to Hemingway's Spain

First, another Deirdre moan. You remember the lugubrious health form we had to fill out to spend three hours in the Madrid airport, right? Well, four days later we drive from France to Spain and spend four days there (with breathing all over people) and never a mention of a health form. People! Consistency! Rationality! I give up. So we decide to go to Pamplona to see where they run the bulls. Visions of a dusty backwater Sun Also Rises town dance in our heads. Wrong. It looks like Houston, except more highrises. We eat Arabic food and leave.

And Then the Weather Turned

Before leaving Ajijic, consultation with the Weather Channel indicated weather varying between showers and inundation for the totality of our trip. Happily, the Channel was wrong - at least for the first four or five days. We reached San Sebastian in rain which persisted for our stay. "You'll love San Sebastian", everyone said. Not really. I think (well, honestly I know) we're old. Fighting for parking, fighting for anything wears thin. After walking 6 blocks dragging our suitcases in the rain we reached our hotel to be greeted by - no one. 

The Stephen King Hotel

The door is locked. There is a buzzer. We buzz. We are informed by a disembodied voice, emanating from the speaker, there is no one at reception desk (well duh). We get in with the code given to us. We take the elevator. We now realize they didn't give us a room number (although we have the code to get in the room). Reverse. Go back to the disembodied voice and get a room number. Enter. We do not see another human (worker or guest) for over 24 hours. I am thinking The Shining and looking at Michael suspiciously. Even the coffee bar is stocked by ghosts or something. We survive 24 hours and finally see a person. Relief. Meanwhile we've been dining on pintxos and wine. Pintxos are like tapas, but are various things on top of bread (think French or Spanish bread not American bread). They are called pintxos because each one had a toothpick (big) stuck in it and to charge you they just counted up your pintxos at the end. It's more automated now, but still pretty adorable and tasty.

Picaro, our favorite pintxos bar!

One of the many interesting buildings in San Sebastian. This and the following photo were taken when we had a brief respite from the rain.

One of the many interesting bridges in San Sebastian

One day we traveled from San Sebastian to Guernica to photograph the famous Picasso Mural.

On that day we drove the coast road back to San Sebastian and saw these photo worthy views.

An old Basque Church with the flying buttress supports.

We have a lighthouse theme going on this trip, so I thought I would add one more to the collection. As you can see from this and the two preceding photos, the weather was not great on this day.

The Town I Cannot Spell or Pronounce

Hondarribia - what a silly name, but what a beautiful little town. The rain has somewhat lifted and we indulged ourselves by lunching at Alameda - a Michelin starred restaurant which (Deirdre said nose pointing to the sky haughtily) was superb. We then wandered the streets seeking to shed the billion calories we had consumed & Michael's photos shall elaborate.

This impressive individual is the gate guard at the Santa Maria gate leading into the old walled city of Hondarribia.

The Santa Maria gate.

Looking back from the Santa Maria gate you can see the airport control tower on the far left.

Walking through the gate and up the street the 16th century Iglesia del Manzano church is in the background.

A closer view of the church with the steeple and bell tower.

The interior of the church was very impressive, as can be seen from these photos.

A very interesting and old door in the old city.

Outside of the walled city were some interesting houses.

Looking out over the river on the other side is France.

Having dithered quite enough, we shall leave you now and post another blog as we move through France. Until then, be well.