For Americans, the beaches of Normandy are synonymous with World War II and D-Day. Walking along the beach, it is hard to imagine such a tranquil and lovely beach being the site of such horrific bloodshed.
On closer inspection, one can begin to see the remnants of fortifications. In the upper reaches of the beach are the crumbling and overgrown German gun batteries. The rotting concrete structures seem more benign than malicious, but their history proves otherwise.
There are monuments scattered along the beach, and enormous cemeteries dedicated to the various troupes that were sent to their death here. This is a very popular place for Americans to visit. (You can tell when you have met one on the road, because they rarely know how to use a roundabout.)
The nearby villages are cozy and welcoming. On warmer days than when we were there, the beaches would likely have be thriving with people basking in the sun and playing in the surf. The solitude of our visit seemed more appropriate for the setting though.
In the north of France in a small cove on the sea lies the magical Le Mont Saint-Michel. Many people who do not know about this island monastery will still recognize it. Stationed on a large rock outcropping just far enough into the ocean to make it inaccessible during high tide, the Mont seems straight out of a tale of King Arthur and his knights. Most likely, it has been used in a few movies of such tales.
We arrived at night and it was a remarkable sight to see. Walking the dimly lit streets of the citadel was like a dream.
The next day we were able to explore the Mont more thoroughly. The streets and alleys of the citadel are a maze of stairs and narrow paths. Many ending abruptly and others arriving at locations which were quite unexpected.
At the top of the Mont is a monastery. We paid the entry fee and began our walk around. The monastery is beautiful, but not the most spectacular we have ever seen. One of the most interesting things about walking through the monastery was our ability to look down on the city below almost completely surrounded by sea.
These days there is a permanent path to the island that makes it accessible during high tide, but it is interesting to think about visitors to the island several hundred years ago. The danger they faced to cross the sands at low tide to reach the citadel. Their need to await for the sea to grant them passage.
South of Paris along the river Loire, is a series of beautiful castles and palaces. This is a wonderful tour to take while in France. We drove along the river visiting these beautiful castles for a few days. Cycle touring would be even greater for this area. In the springtime when it is not too hot and everything is green and fresh. If you go to the Loire, you can choose to pay and enter each of the castles, but you might find that after a while they all seem the same. If you choose to just view them from outside, you will not be let down. They are absolutely gorgeous without going inside.
Oh...yeah. Obviously I like photos of castles with their reflections in water.
Near Poitiers we stayed with a young woman in the tiny village of Parthenay. This was the first of two times we would stay with her family, and an interesting family it was. She lived in an old house which she claimed was many hundreds if not a thousand years old. Her partner was a sailor and was often out at sea for many weeks, which is rather reminiscent of a particular 70's love song.
Before leaving, she gave us the number and address of her mother and step-father in La Rochelle. Although we had not gotten any reply from them on Couchsurfing, she assured us that they would accept us.
On our way to La Rochelle we spotted three hitchhikers also going to La Rochelle. Although our car was absolutely stuffed with junk from traveling, we stopped and moved things around to fit the three of them in the back seat. We all had a wonderful time chatting on our way to La Rochelle, and when we arrived we were a little sad to see them go.
After a walk around the town we decided to give a call to this woman's parents. A man answered and it became clear that French was not his first language. In fact, he was from England. He said we could absolutely stay with them, and invited us over. We learned a bit more about the family when we arrived. The woman we had stayed with the day before was born in France, but her mother was actually Italian. It was this Italian woman's house that we were now in. She had later remarried a English man, and late in life they had two more children.
Here we were in a house with two French children born from an Italian and a Englishman. The man told us that he actually felt a bit bad for his children. The fact that they had been so old when they were born made it as though the children lived with their grandparents. He felt they probably grew bored without having parents young enough to play. They were very friendly and intelligent children nonetheless.
We will never forget his family, their generosity, or their uniqueness.
Leaving Biarritz we rushed to reach the home of our next Couch-host: Jeff. It was getting dark, which did not help the fact that Jeff lived in a very remote farm. Matters were worsened by our telephone running out of battery, and our GPS did not know the roads (often the case for us in southern France). Eventually we stopped at a house to ask for help, and they very generously called our host. It turned out we were not far from his home, but there was no way we would have ever found it if he had not come to retreive us.
Jeff fed us a hearty country meal and we asked him about places to visit. (This is really the best way to plan your travels - don't plan at all and ask along the way). He also told us about his adventures in northern Africa - which were very inspiring for us.
The next day, we visited a few places before heading to our next host. First was Libourne, the closest city to Jeff's house. Libourne is not a very interesting town, but there was a festival.
Next we went to Saint-Emilion. This city is quite famous for its fine wines. The city itself is very nice. An old citadel with small vinyards weaving in and out of its borders. If you have money and like wine, this is a paradise. But, it is a lovely city if you don't.
After Saint-Emilion, we rushed for an afternoon in Bordeaux. This is a very ordinary European city, having plazas, towers, churches, and narrow streets like many others. After a walk around the center and buying a whole chicken, we drove north to our next home.
Biarritz is like the French counterpart of Spanish San Sebastian. It is an extravagant coastal town with luxurious hotels and fine restaurants. We visited Biarritz for a short time with a Spanish Couch-host.
Our host lived on the Spanish-French border, and decided to accompany us as we continued our north trip from her house. We toured through the Basque country stopping in a few small villages, and finally stopping in Biarritz.
Like San Sebastian this city is beautiful but really only a fun place to stay an extended period if you have money. Obviously, we did not stay long.
We take this moment to introduce you to Couchsurfing.org! This wonderful organization has given us countless memories. This site is - in our opinion - the best website currently in existence. It brings people together, and fosters hospitality without asking for reimbursement.
This website has allowed us to meet hundreds of generous people who have welcomed us into their homes, fed us delicious cultural food, and told us personal stories. We have also brought people into our home. These people are not strangers, they are friends.
Uno de Enero,
dos de Febrero,
tres de Marzo,
cuatro de Abril,
cinco de Mayo,
seis de Junio,
siete de Julio San Fermin.
A Pamplona hemos de ir,
con una media,
con una media,
a Pamplona hemos de ir
con una media y un calcetín
We rushed from Andalucia north to Pamplona
to participate in the San Fermin festivities. San Fermin, known by most
people as "The Running of the Bulls", occurs every year from the 7th of
July to the 14th of July. Visitors to the city during these
festivities either reserve their lodging far in advance, or sleep on the
streets. The fact is, there just aren't enough hotels and hostels for
the enormous influx of people that come for this week long party. Even
if you do get a room chances are you won't be sleeping much anyway.
This
festival is best known for the daily running of the bulls. This
happens each morning at 8 am and lasts only minutes. People arrive and
find their favored place along the route eager for the bulls to arrive.
One of the most dangerous places along the route is a 90 degree turn in
the road which often causes the bulls to slide and fall. It is in this
location where bulls often get separated from the rest of the group. A
lone bull is much more dangerous than a bull with its herd. These
bulls feel more exposed and are more likely to single out a person and
attack. Bulls in the herd will continue running together to the end.
There
are of course general guidelines people are encouraged to follow for
their own safety, but there really is no way for these to be enforced.
Once the bulls are let loose, it is pure chaos. People also have their superstitions. For one: old newspapers. The real hardcore runners always have an old stinky rolled-up newspaper to help protect them from the bulls. Does it help? I have no idea, but Javier was pretty convinced he needed a newspaper.
Yes, yes. Javier ran with the bulls. Actually, he ran twice! Below is a video of one of the mornings he ran. Can you find him?
San Fermin isn't just about the running of the bulls. Originally, the running of the bulls was just a method to move the bulls from a corral to the bullfighting ring. These days the running itself is very popular, but the end is still the bullfights. The bullfights during San Fermin are rather unique. Unlike most bullfights around the country, these are treated as a party. At a bullfight, there are always two main ticket types. One is for the shade, and one is for the sun. If you choose the sun, you will pay less, but at these fights you will also get covered in wine. The shaded seats are filled with people who are very quiet and act as people would at any bullfight. The people in the sunny seats are drunk, singing, and throwing wine into the air. Considering most people are wearing white, you can imagine how they might look after leaving the sunny seats at one of these bullfights.
Of course I could discuss the moral issues of all these activities, but I would rather not.
Now, the running of the bulls and the bullfights are fun and all, but my favorite part is actually quite juvenile: Gigantes y Cabezones! This is a typical parade for children with "giants" and "big-heads". The big heads tend to go around hitting the children with small maces (made of foam), and the giants usually put on some sort of dance. I was first introduced to this type of parade while in Nicaragua, and have been in love with them ever since.
Las Alpujarras are a series of high mountains south of Granada including the two highest peaks in Spain. Even in July, patches of snow can be found in the shaded areas of these southern mountains.
Visiting Las Alpujarras is like taking a step back in time. Although these quaint villages are not as primitive as you would see in "Al Sur de Granada", they are not far from it. Arriving at the villages is a difficult task. Since there is no bus transport to the higher villages, hitchhiking was our only option. Once we had arrived, travel between villages was all by foot.
Our time in Las Alpujarras was spent trekking from one village to the next. We used grown over mountain trails that wound around small farming plots and tattered stone houses. We often got lost, since there were no signs on any of the trails. Once we came across an old woman - most likely in her 80's - and we asked her if we were on the right trail. She proceeded to tell us we were very confused and explained just how lost we were. After explaining the route we needed, she quizzed us about the location of her goats. We pointed to some that were down the hill, but those were apparently not hers. She left us disgruntled, supposedly to search for the goats that were hers.
My favorite memory of our hikes was the day we came across a mulberry tree. Javier climbed high into the tree and passed down the sweet ripe fruits. The rest of the day we were covered in the evidence of our gluttony.
The most unfortunate thing about our time in Andalucia, is that almost all of our photos of this area were lost. Tragic.
Andalucia is probably the most interesting part of Spain to visit (I'm sure it will irk some to hear this). There is the beautiful mosque in Cordoba with its beautiful red and white arches; Sevilla has the impressive Giralda and Alcazar; and Granada has the exquisite Moorish palace - La Alhambra.
Whenever we are told by a friend or acquaintance that they are going to visit Spain, this is the region we immediately suggest. It is far too often that people go to Spain and they visit Madrid and Barcelona only. While there are interesting sites and activities in these two cities, they do not compare to the beauty and history of the southern part of Spain.
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