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Chateau Robert
The Chateau silhouetted by another spectacular sunset
Yesterday we drove down to San Sebastian, which is a Spanish town right on the border. We all fell asleep, but I think the drive took about an hour and a half. Being residents of a Chateau, we naturally have a driver to take us places. His name is Patrice, and he drives the manual minivan (do they even sell manual minivans in the states?) like a race car. As it turns out, he is a pretty interesting guy. Born right around the Chateau, he has spent significant amounts of time in Britain, Canada, Australia, the US, and Argentina, where he met his wife. He speaks English, Spanish, and French. He apparently just worked his way around these destinations, bartending in England and picking cherries in Canada. Alain (pronounced Alan with a French accent), our cook, is also quite the international type. He apparently has a wife and, more recently, a child in Thailand, where he spends for to five months out of the year.
San Sebastian is my favorite place I have seen so far. When we descended from the Pyrenees amidst tufts of fog, the temperature dropped about twenty degrees, the architecture became obviously Spanish, and we
Mike
Playing tennis found ourselves in a sizeable and densely populated city. Being able to understand and speak the language was another breath of fresh air, since I can only make out bits of French: saying please, thank you, a few other things, and reading with some difficulty. (since I, of course, speak Basque, which is written on all the sign next to Spanish) According to Patrice, the weekends in San Sebastian are quite the spectacle, with the old quarter of town crammed wall to wall with people. Not only is San Sebastian a tourist spot for Americans, but also Spaniards looking for cooler weather and French looking for cheaper holidays in Spain. (I don’t quite understand why things would be cheaper than in across the border but they are. That, along with the current immigration issues, really make me wonder about what is and isn’t integrated in the EU) France and Spain are also popular with the English, who have reportedly driven up real estate prices in the areas around the Chateau with the strength of the British pound, much to the chagrin of the locals. I got the impression that the Spanish were a little less defensive and prickly. I’m afraid
Cow Jumper
He was the best one. His name was Cedrique and he outclassed everyone. that the stereotype of the aloof and snooty Frenchman exists for a reason. Though they are much more friendly here in the country (and there are obviously exceptions), there is a certain pervasive sense of the French being on the cultural defensive. This is likely a product of immigration and very intense tourism. The Spanish seem much more laid back… perhaps a bit too laid back. As we were rounding the point that created the bay that was the clear historical reason for the town’s existence, we came upon another beach full of sun worshipers. One of these sun worshipers clearly had a unique relationship with the rays, as he lay spread eagled in the middle of the action, exposing ALL of himself to the solar bliss and, incidentally I’m sure, to everyone on the beach, the adjoining sidewalk, and, of course, to yours truly and company. Mike’s father, who, being nearsighted and oblivious to the source of our revulsion, chose to sit down at a table that had a full panorama of our devout sun zealot. Those of us with better vision decided to sit where our eyes would be protected from the fervor. We also had a nice
Cedrique
Cedrique again meal of fresh fish, which were simple and light compared to the heavy casoulets and quiches we often have here. I think a good impression of San Sebastian bodes well for my stay in Barcelona.
Today I woke up and went for a run with Kay and Aaron. As we ran along the fields (which Patrice says are corn for feeding the fois gras ducks), I could, for some reason, imagine some kind of battle happening there. I don’t exactly know why, but I could just see the Germans creeping over the next hill. Maybe it was the topography or the cloudy weather. It did not stay cloudy for long, and it was downright hot by the time we ate lunch and made our way to Grenade, where we walked around for a bit, had some refreshments, and watched cow jumping, which turned out to be quite the spectacle. It’s pretty much a less risky and less bloody version of bull fighting. They drag the cow around with a rope tied to horns that are taped to prevent any goring to set up a charge, which is then evaded by jumping around or over the cow. It was entertaining,
Cow Jumping
An inferior cow jumper who didn't jump over the cow, just around it but what was more interesting to me was the sight of the spectacle itself. We arrived too early, so I got to watch a sleepy French town wake up to what had to have been the biggest event around. Once the everything got going, the place reminded me of what small town America must have been like in the fifties before they hemorrhaged into their current somber state. There were families, youth, and old people all walking, talking, eating, and drinking together: the place was vibrant. Yet there were quite a few more old people than youth, and as I wandered around the little shop fronts, beautiful old churches, and a WWI memorial, I felt that the place was in the midst of a slow, sweet decay. Despite the Michelin 3 star restaurants, history, and character of the place, it was clear to me that eventually, no matter how long its citizens clung to it, the city would slip away and suffer the same fate of its American counterparts. When able thirty year olds like Patrice travel abroad for work settle for odd jobs and driving tourists around, the vibrancy I saw at the cow jumping must certainly be ebbing.
Maybe that’s why the French are so defensive. They feel the traditions, the culture, and the food they so dearly love slipping away.
A sad thought, but it will perhaps help me enjoy my stay here all the more. At any rate, I feel like I have adjusted to the point where I have stopped looking at everything as if I were in a zoo and started to kind of absorb things.
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Gene
non-member comment
Wow
Hi Jon, Your trip looks amazing. I'm so glad you got to go. Now the question is "How will you ever readjust to reality here at home?" No, I'm cooking, driving, and tourguiding you on your return! I love you, Dad