one day in saint-jean-de-luz

Last night, I watched Kung Fu Panda at an apartment in Belleville. Cute movie. "My friend, the panda will never fulfill his destiny, nor you yours, until you let go of the illusion of control," the old turtle told the tiny red panda. However juvenile the context, it resonated with me as I embark on my last full month in Paris and accept the fact that I still don't know where I'll relocate to after.

It also reminded me of a Buddhist lesson my cousin tried teaching me. “To let go means to give up coercing, resisting, or struggling, in exchange for something more powerful and wholesome which comes out of allowing things to be as they are without getting caught up in your attraction to or rejection of them, in the intrinsic stickiness of wanting, of liking and disliking.” -Jon Kabat-Zinn

Spending a day in Saint-Jean-de-Luz was a practice in such wisdom as well. Following a series of unfortunate events, Leslie and I found ourselves with 12 extra hours in le Pays Basque and one coastal city we hadn't yet visited. All we could do was make the best of it; and gosh, after all that rain, how brightly the warm sun shone to rouse the process. Paella and ice cream surely helped, too :).

that time I drove to spain

Please note: when I say "I", I mean "we", and Leslie actually did the driving. We couldn't not go to fall in love with San Sebastián.

You see, we were so, so close by in Biarritz. It's a popular vacation itinerary to seaside town-hop along the Basque Coast. There are various public transportation options to bring locals and tourists to and from in the summer. But we were visiting in off-season, which meant international buses and trains were limited, making a full day in Spain seemingly impossible. The best solution: rent a car, of course! So although neither of us had ever driven in Europe (let alone across any European borders), rent a car we did.

We look trustworthy of such responsibility, right? Most definitely. Leslie got used to the endless traffic circles and I brushed up on my navigation skills. As mentioned, we did get stuck at a toll on the way because we didn't quite have enough money in coins and the machine wouldn't accept our credit and debit cards... but we made it to the charming and sophisticated San Sebastián eventually.

Then we wine and pinxto-ed all damn day. That is, once we'd parked, stopped for coffee, found a group of Spanish men and women to follow into a bar, and asked the server how to do so. "Hola... no entiendo cómo esto funciona..." He offered Leslie a plate to choose from the cold dishes on display and handed me a menu to order a few hot bites. I'm not sure which pinxtos we ate in the end, but they paired perfectly with the house red. We payed honor system-style on the way out. Afterwards, we walked along the Playa de la Concha and hiked up Monte Urgull before stopping by Bar Nestor, Bar Zeruko, and Gandarias. We also wandered through the San Telmo Museum and lusted after every item in Noventa Grados. And now I want to drive to Spain again. Come with?

jambon de bayonne

Knowing an ancient port city only by the ham that originated there is nothing to be embarrassed about, right? Oh, good. That's a relief. Because it's ham that first brought Bayonne to my attention. Then my French friend reminded me how close it is to Biarritz.

So, Leslie and I went. And oh my is it beautiful with 2,000 years of history and heritage. I nearly considered how right Europeans are for teasing me that my home country is 'young.' But, nostalgia's tricky. So much of what we identify with is imagined as it is...

And someone might need another academia-break :) as such, let's re-live this glorious day in which we wandered down cobblestone streets, marveled at stained glass windows, tasted regional delicacies, learned about Basque culture, and purchased local products.

Leslie and I picnic-ed indoors with fish tapenade, pickled vegetables, spiced cheese, red wine, bread, and camera-shy ham that night.

querencia

“Lopez explains that querencia is a place where one feels secure, ‘a place from which one’s strength of character is drawn.’ In Spain, it is the place in the ring where the wounded bull goes to renew his strength and center himself, ready for a fresh charge. What a beautiful concept: ‘A place in which we know exactly who we are. The place from which we speak our deepest beliefs.’” -Juanita

Would it be too presumptuous to say I felt that way in Basque Country? Maybe it was the daily heart-to-hearts with Leslie, the extended chats with locals (read: I spoke French/Spanish well enough to be understood!), or, simply, the moments of silence we strolled alongside each other, taking in the sights and smells, occasionally stopping for a three-course gourmet meal with wine.

The first was Restaurant Léonie, where the impressively comfortable, contemporary atmosphere encouraged us to dine forever hours. We savored ham from nearby Bayonne with tomato-brushed toast, celery romoulade and crabmeat, catch-of-the-day sea bass with ham-roasted potatoes, baby cuttlefish atop lard and eggplant caviar, three local cheeses, and vanilla fromage blanc with speculoos.

And after decaf coffees and tea, we stayed even longer. Martin wanted to know how we'd heard about their modern bistro (LaFourchette), how we were enjoying Pays Basque (very much so), and where we'd come from. La chance to be studying in Paris, but wow, how he adores New York. Like so many others, he looks back on his visit fondly. He has a friend living in Brooklyn, too.