This is the farthest northeast town in Spain, just across the Bidaso River from France on the coast of the Bay of Biscay. While our baggage was being transported to the next hotel, we rode by bus to an open high meadow to walk part of the oldest route on the pilgrimage path El Camino (“Way of St. James”). The views were spectacular: the Bay of Biscay on the left (we were walking backwards on the path) and Hondarribia below with the estuary between Spain and France beyond the town. It was a peaceful, if windy, walk. We then took a short shuttle to the Sanctuary of Guadalupe, where resides a 15th Century Black Madonna. More snacks from the back of the van and then a picturesque walk downhill past a series of crosses representing the Stations of the Cross, each one with a wooden kneeling plank in front. I was walking towards the rear with the oldest of our participants, an interesting former fruit-fly researcher and overall genial character, when suddenly a barn door opened and sheep came barging out one by one, rounded a fence and rushed up to their pasture. It was delightfully startling.
We approached the walled city of Hondarribia and entered across a moat and through an ancient gate. The hotel was on the other side of the old city, past the church and square with a palace that is now a Parador (state-sponsored Spanish hotel remodeled from castles, monasteries, etc.). Our hotel was built into a corner of the city just adjacent to the main gate. It’s a great town with the 800-year-old walled “old” city and the “new” city, an old fishing port. After checking in, we took a walking tour of part of the new city and a quick rest before another very special dinner experience.
A “txoko” in the Basque Country is a “private, gastronomic society.” Formerly men-only, where they cook together, eat and socialize. The story is that in the old days women welcomed this tradition to get the men out of the house. Another version says that the societies have ruined many a marriage. Who knows? In these days, women are welcome to dine with the men and some are even members, including our guide, Txaro, a native Hondarribian. She arranged for the first time on this particular 3-year-old VBT tour to reserve her club’s space and recreate this experience for us. Several participants volunteered to help her with the meal preparation, while the less hearty of us rested up for the festivities. We had a wonderful evening. The club had a large kitchen and a long table for eating family style. It was a risk for Txaro, but with the few helpers she had, she pulled it off. Her 90-year-old mother lives in the center of the old town and had greeted us from her balcony as we initially walked into the old city. One of the “guest cooks” got to see her apartment as he accompanied Txaro to round up the fish and other ingredients she had stored there. Of course, the grand old gal joined us for dinner in the club. As we arrived, Txaro and our fellow travelers were finishing up preparing the salad, the tortilla, chicken and then cooking the main fish from the region, hake, or merlusa in Spanish. We had a grand old time with of course too much food. Our oldest buddy, John, bought some cartons of gazpacho as an appetizer, and there was plenty of wine as usual. Blessedly we had fruit salad for dessert! Across the hall we could hear part of the club members at their singing group practice. At the end of the evening, we all pitched in with cleaning up. I realized then that it was a missed opportunity not to help with the cooking, but it’s always a hard balance on these trips between “doing it all” and getting rest when possible.
The next day, we walked to the ferry to cross the river into Hendaye, France. We started out in town walking along the beach promenade, then headed up a dirt path again overlooking the Bay of Biscay, through meadows and some forest. At one point, David, our walking guide that day, took us down a ‘short-cut’, which was a brambly path and across a stream, shortly after which, the path just stopped. Unbeknownst to him, it hadn’t been maintained and was just too overgrown from the spring rain to continue. Never mind, we backtracked and took the normal path that worked just as well. I felt especially happy on this walk and had a thought that I was getting in touch with my inner Girl Scout. I hadn’t realized that I had missed her. We got wet, we got muddy, we enjoyed nature. It was a really pleasant feeling, and made me think of my adventuresome mother. Finally, we walked on a stretch of sand on the beach before coming to the lovely French town of St. Jean-de-Luz. Luis XIV was married to Maria Theresa in the largest Basque church there, but we didn’t have time to stop in. We did, however, have time to duck into a crowded café for a Croque Monsieur (ham and cheese French style) and then grab a glace (ice cream) on our way to the train station and across a bridge for our return to Hondarribia.
That night they took us to a wonderful pintxos bar where we sat outside and stuffed ourselves yet again. Night after night, I said to myself, “I will never need to eat again.”
Our last day in Hondarribia was a very rainy one. We had lucked out on most of the previous days, defying the rainy weather predictions, but not today. Joe chose to stay in the hotel and dry and take care the beginnings of a head cold, while I headed out with the group for our last walk in the countryside. We walked through the outskirts of the new town to the Plalaundi Ecological Park, which also took us on pieces of El Camino. On the way out of town we wandered past really picturesque villages with impeccable spring gardens all laid out and sprouting the first green veggies. It poured. I am so grateful for my hiking boots, which we bought as soon as we retired 2 years ago for our trip to visit our friends in the California Sierras. They were daily footwear on this trip and lived up to their waterproof label, not to mention being super-supportive and comfy. Love them so much. If they hadn’t gotten too muddy before, they came back to the hotel with an inch of mud on the bottom. The girl scout was soaked and filthy and tired and very happy.
That night: MORE FOOD. Our official farewell dinner. The owner of the hotel is a longtime friend of Txaro and a good cook. He cooked a lot of stuff for us to eat. The first courses were pre-prepped, but he gave us a great demonstration of cutting a whole fish and cooking the hake in green sauce. I just kept groaning as course followed course. It’s exhausting!
We approached the walled city of Hondarribia and entered across a moat and through an ancient gate. The hotel was on the other side of the old city, past the church and square with a palace that is now a Parador (state-sponsored Spanish hotel remodeled from castles, monasteries, etc.). Our hotel was built into a corner of the city just adjacent to the main gate. It’s a great town with the 800-year-old walled “old” city and the “new” city, an old fishing port. After checking in, we took a walking tour of part of the new city and a quick rest before another very special dinner experience.
A “txoko” in the Basque Country is a “private, gastronomic society.” Formerly men-only, where they cook together, eat and socialize. The story is that in the old days women welcomed this tradition to get the men out of the house. Another version says that the societies have ruined many a marriage. Who knows? In these days, women are welcome to dine with the men and some are even members, including our guide, Txaro, a native Hondarribian. She arranged for the first time on this particular 3-year-old VBT tour to reserve her club’s space and recreate this experience for us. Several participants volunteered to help her with the meal preparation, while the less hearty of us rested up for the festivities. We had a wonderful evening. The club had a large kitchen and a long table for eating family style. It was a risk for Txaro, but with the few helpers she had, she pulled it off. Her 90-year-old mother lives in the center of the old town and had greeted us from her balcony as we initially walked into the old city. One of the “guest cooks” got to see her apartment as he accompanied Txaro to round up the fish and other ingredients she had stored there. Of course, the grand old gal joined us for dinner in the club. As we arrived, Txaro and our fellow travelers were finishing up preparing the salad, the tortilla, chicken and then cooking the main fish from the region, hake, or merlusa in Spanish. We had a grand old time with of course too much food. Our oldest buddy, John, bought some cartons of gazpacho as an appetizer, and there was plenty of wine as usual. Blessedly we had fruit salad for dessert! Across the hall we could hear part of the club members at their singing group practice. At the end of the evening, we all pitched in with cleaning up. I realized then that it was a missed opportunity not to help with the cooking, but it’s always a hard balance on these trips between “doing it all” and getting rest when possible.
The next day, we walked to the ferry to cross the river into Hendaye, France. We started out in town walking along the beach promenade, then headed up a dirt path again overlooking the Bay of Biscay, through meadows and some forest. At one point, David, our walking guide that day, took us down a ‘short-cut’, which was a brambly path and across a stream, shortly after which, the path just stopped. Unbeknownst to him, it hadn’t been maintained and was just too overgrown from the spring rain to continue. Never mind, we backtracked and took the normal path that worked just as well. I felt especially happy on this walk and had a thought that I was getting in touch with my inner Girl Scout. I hadn’t realized that I had missed her. We got wet, we got muddy, we enjoyed nature. It was a really pleasant feeling, and made me think of my adventuresome mother. Finally, we walked on a stretch of sand on the beach before coming to the lovely French town of St. Jean-de-Luz. Luis XIV was married to Maria Theresa in the largest Basque church there, but we didn’t have time to stop in. We did, however, have time to duck into a crowded café for a Croque Monsieur (ham and cheese French style) and then grab a glace (ice cream) on our way to the train station and across a bridge for our return to Hondarribia.
That night they took us to a wonderful pintxos bar where we sat outside and stuffed ourselves yet again. Night after night, I said to myself, “I will never need to eat again.”
Our last day in Hondarribia was a very rainy one. We had lucked out on most of the previous days, defying the rainy weather predictions, but not today. Joe chose to stay in the hotel and dry and take care the beginnings of a head cold, while I headed out with the group for our last walk in the countryside. We walked through the outskirts of the new town to the Plalaundi Ecological Park, which also took us on pieces of El Camino. On the way out of town we wandered past really picturesque villages with impeccable spring gardens all laid out and sprouting the first green veggies. It poured. I am so grateful for my hiking boots, which we bought as soon as we retired 2 years ago for our trip to visit our friends in the California Sierras. They were daily footwear on this trip and lived up to their waterproof label, not to mention being super-supportive and comfy. Love them so much. If they hadn’t gotten too muddy before, they came back to the hotel with an inch of mud on the bottom. The girl scout was soaked and filthy and tired and very happy.
That night: MORE FOOD. Our official farewell dinner. The owner of the hotel is a longtime friend of Txaro and a good cook. He cooked a lot of stuff for us to eat. The first courses were pre-prepped, but he gave us a great demonstration of cutting a whole fish and cooking the hake in green sauce. I just kept groaning as course followed course. It’s exhausting!
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