As you can see from the above map, the town is situated on a sheltered bay. Early in the morning, just inside the breakwaters, the view from the ship was impressive. The center of Saint-Jean-de-Luz is on the far left of the photo.
To put this in perspective, later in the day I took a photo from the beach looking outwards towards the Explorer.
We rode the zodiacs into the harbor, which is much more compact than at La Rochelle, which has five times the population of Saint-Jean-de-Luz. This picture shows the floating docks onto which we disembarked.
Our shore excursion then divided into smaller groups, each with a guide, and each small group used radio earphones to follow its guide's commentary as they walked through the streets. Just across from the docks is the Maison de L'Infante, a handsome pink stone building where Maria Theresa of Spain awaited her husband-to-be, King Louis XIV of France, in 1660.
A plaque, visible at bottom on the edge of the walkway, commemorates the activities of the French resistance during WWII. Saint-Jean-de-Luz was a major transit point for downed Allied airmen escaping to neutral Spain.
Just around the corner we encountered seaweed being unloaded from boats into shipping containers. Seaweed is a name loosely applied to describe several groups of multicellular algae; these plants have culinary, medicinal, cosmetic, and industrial uses. Where this seaweed is bound, I do not know.
Closer up, it looks like this.
The region is famous for its red pepper, the espelette. It is spicy, but not outrageously so, rating about 4,000 units on the Scoville scale. Racks of indestructible copies of these peppers are part of the storefront for the Maison d'Adam outlet in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, which is not far from the docks. Joan and I stopped here on our way back and bought some candies and chocolate, including a dark chocolate bar with espelette peppers that was very good.
Our morning tour passed by the beach, seen in the earlier photo. This building next to the beach caught my eye. Its shape was reminiscent of the Flatiron in New York City, although much smaller and older.
We saw the symbol of the Basque country everywhere in Saint-Jean-de-Luz as we walked from site to site. Originally it was a swastika, but after that symbol was hijacked in the 1930s/1940s it was altered to echo the original form but not invoke the memories of World War II. Here is a closeup ...
... that is part of a shop awning on the ground floor.
Many of the homes were profusely decorated with flowers on windows or petite balconies.
Next we arrived at the church Saint-Jean-Baptiste, where Louis XVI and Maria Theresa were wed.
The nave is ornate, in contrast to the plain exterior of the church.
When you look in the other direction, the church interior reflects its modest, small town origins.
This is not a deficit, but rather a refreshing change from the imposing cathedrals that we saw elsewhere in the trip. Hanging in the center, as you see above, is a ship model, representing the maritime interests of the town, and probably a gesture of thanks from a supplicant.
We wrapped up our morning tour with a visit to the town indoor market. I didn't take a photos inside, but only one of the sign outside, which is in both French and Basque.
For my final image from the morning walk, I present this door knocker.
Joan and I had lunch back aboard the Explorer, although some stayed in town to dine. Afterwards, there were three choices for the afternoon.
exploring Saint-Jean-de-Luz further on your own,
a tour of the historical city of Bayonne, or
a tour of a Basque farmstead and the Basque village of Aïnhoa.
Joan and I chose the Basque tour, which started with a bus ride to the farmstead, Ortillopitz, which dates to 1660.
It's situated in a beautiful location in the rolling foothills of the Pyrenees.
The guide at Ortillopitz spoke both French and Basque, but not English,
so the guide that came with the bus translated the narrative for us. Not always reliably, as Joan, who speaks French, discovered. The farmhouse guide described the Basque inheritance traditions, of which we had heard somewhat already: the parents choose the child who they deem most capable to inherit the farmstead, regardless of birth order or gender. The bus guide translated it as "the oldest male inherits." Given that the Ortillopitz guide was Basque and the bus guide not, we're accepting the "most capable" version. We toured the farmhouse; this photo is of the kitchen. Note the peppers hanging down at the top right.
Here's a closer look. We do like peppers.
I also took a photo in one of the bedrooms.
After touring the upstairs we descended into the basement.
Awaiting us was a spread of local cheeses, meats, and breads. Yum!
Back outside, we had a little while to tour the grounds.
On leaving Ortillopitz the bus did not turn right, to head directly for Aïnhoi, but to the left. The bus was perilously close to the maximum size the road could accommodate, and the angle of the driveway dictated that we turn left to find a better spot, and then turn around. The driver had in mind the parking area for the Petit Train de la Rhune, a small-gauge (one meter) railway that climbs 2500' to the top of Rhune mountain. This snapshot from Google Maps shows Ortillopitz at the right, at the 'A' pin, and the parking area at the upper left; the distance is under a mile (click to enlarge).
However, after heading into the parking lot, we immediately had trouble. The parking lot was not only full, but overfull, and people had parked in inventive and technically illegal ways. The bus, headed in, could not make the two right turns required to head out through the adjacent driving lane. Time for plan B: the driver nosed into a single-lane parking extension, which you can see in the above photo as a long tendril heading left out of the grey blob of the wider parking area. This maneuver aligned the bus with the intended driving lane, but pointed the wrong way. Our driver, with some assistance from spotters outside the bus, had to drive the bus in reverse for several bus lengths, avoiding mis-parked autos, to regain the road and finally have the bus pointed in the right direction. She did a great job under trying circumstances. Arriving in Aïnhoa, the bus parked at the edge of town in a small lot set aside for buses.
It's clear that Aïnhoa sees a great many tourists; this sign was the first thing we saw. It's written in both French and Basque.
This sign was also nearby.
Translated, it says "If you want my handicap I'll give you my spot." Aïnhoa village was destroyed in 1629, and rebuilt in the 17th and 18th Centuries. The main street is considered one of the best preserved examples of Basque life.
But do not become complacent about the light auto traffic; you must be careful crossing the main street.
We then visited the village church.
I present a photo towards the nave,
and one towards the back.
The adjacent graveyard is full of fascinating stonework and cultural influences. The Basque symbol is a frequent theme, and the many round shapes may represent a solar influence.
Entire families can be buried, or at least memorialized, in one spot. Here we see family members who died at ages between 1 day and 86 years.
And every Basque village has its own pelota court with bleachers for the spectators. One of the many variations of this sport is known outside Europe as jai alai.
The strategic feature, the marked flat wall, is known in French as the fronton. My final picture for this post is timestamped about 50 minutes after boarding the bus to leave Aïnhoa, so it is probably taken while walking back to the docks. Ultralight aircraft seem to be popular in France, judging by the many photo opportunities I've had! Note that the wing includes an advertisement for Toyota (a dealership?) -- click to enlarge.
The next day would find us off the coast of Spain, rising early in the morning darkness to visit Bilbao.
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