Arantxa's Place

Our lodging for the ten days in Basque Country was a lovely apartment belonging to our host's sister, Arantxa. Her family was not going to be there any of those days, so we were graciously allowed to stay there.

Where the roses are growing through the fence is the back yard.

The first evening we had a lovely dinner on the terrace prepared by our host.

Laurie loved the flowers and plants and sweeping the patio first thing in the morning.

Alberto preparing a wonderful salad of tomatoes, tuna, corn, olives, fresh garlic, and of course olive oil. That was the first course, and the second was an amazingly tender and tasty cut of beef in sauce.

Before dinner we all went for a stroll along the river.

We could see the cliffs of France on the other side.

Then we came back to the gated community and to Arantxa's place.
I thought it interesting that they use the English word on the STOP signs.

I was especially amused by this sign: "We beg you to take control of your dog's poop."

On the last day we were privileged to meet Arantxa in another town where she works.

Thank you, Arantxa, Alberto et al!

Onyarbi

Fuenterrabía / Hondarribia / Onyarbi
Which name do you prefer?

Fuenterrabía is the Castillian name, Hondarribia is the proper Basque version, and Onyarbi is local jargon for the lovely town where our host family lives in the province of Guipúzcoa/Gipuzkoa.

I will go with the local name, it is shorter, more friendly... and makes me feel like an insider!

As we traveled throughout the Basque region we saw that most cities and towns had signs in both languages. Sometimes Spanish name first, others Basque first. However, Hondarribia uses only one, the Euskera. I asked about this and was told that each township decides. Obviously the Basque sentiment is strong in Onyarbi!

This town, on the Bidasoa river across from France, draws many many tourists.

The first morning we were there, after the guys left for their 50-60 mile training ride through the foothills of the Pyrenees, Laurie and I took off walking toward the downtown and the old town.

We stopped and talked to people and took many pictures.
The first person was Eugenia, an older woman sitting on a bench, soaking up the sun. She told us that her late husband of 50+ years had sat there every morning waiting for the bread man. He talked to everyone that came by. He told tourists exactly where to stand to get the best photo of the picturesque houses that used to belong to the fishermen.
One day, a while back, a visitor approached and begged to be allowed to ask a question.
"Go ahead," she said, "I'll answer if I can"
"Well, there used a be a gentleman sitting right there every day. Do you know about him?"
"Yes, that was my husband. He died a few years ago."
 Tourists have asked permission to take photos, and then requested her address, promising to send a copy. So we did the same.

More quaint houses, flower boxes, a store or business on the lower level...

 People milling about. It was a beautiful day.

 

We met 89 year old Manuel who told us much about the history of fishing in the region. He and his sons had worked in the industry for 50+ years. They caught tons and tons of tuna, a large variety, using poles.

He told us his name was one of the names of God. 

"Yes," I said, "It means God with us."

Laurie and I kept on wandering, taking our time, enjoying every moment, oblivious of the hour.

We ended up in the old walled city, el Casco Viejo. Finally we decided to stop for refreshment and WiFi in a small eatery--Bar San Nicolás.

It was there we realized it was 3:00 p.m. and there was a missed call on our cell phone.

Edurne, our hostess, just back from a day's work at the clinic, answered: "The guys have been back for awhile. You have the only key to the apartment."

 

Oh,  no! What to do? To walk back from where we were would have taken half an hour at a fast pace, and assuming we wouldn't get lost! So our gracious hostess, made some calls, and came for us, even though that put her in somewhat of a bind. She had to drive her eldest daughter to a nearby town to catch the train back to university in Barcelona.

 

That would not be the last time we would importune them, yet our hosts were so kind ALL the time.

To be continued...

On how to get lost in a foreign country

1. Take off running from your hotel without name and address of the place, don't even lock your room.

2. Don't bother taking a cell phone, but the camera is a must! You'll need it to record your adventure.

3. No time for breakfast or snacks. Just go, go, go. Have fun!

4. If after a couple hours of wandering you begin to feel hungry, tired, or lost, revive your high school language skills and begin to interact with the locals--an enriching experience.

5. Don't forget to take dozens of photos, there are fascinating sights everywhere you turn--quaint houses, historic architecture, parks, statues, people...

6. IF you eventually admit you are truly LOST and begin to worry about those who may be worried about you, go to the Tourism Office and ask for HELP.

7. With city map in hand, be aware of your surroundings at every turn.

8. Arrive at destination and apologize to ALL for suddenly and selfishly abandoning them in your wander lust!

Yes, this is what I did on the day of the guys big cycling event.

It all happened so quickly--the guys gathered on their bikes, off they went and so did I, running after them!
They had given the impression that the start was not that far away.
The women had not made a firm plan. There was talk of sleeping in, or maybe following the guys. Anyway, I thought we were on our own. I did, however, disregard Mike's last words, "Go with Edurne." Actually it was already too late, she had run after them, and she can really run!
As I was jogging, following the cyclists, I thought, "This is such a straight shot down, I could never get lost."
However, when you turn around to go back in the direction you came from, everything looks different. Suddenly there are forks in the road, the market stalls are being set up, people are milling about. The city as you remembered it is no longer there. After a few turns, shortcuts, and going around in circles, you lose all sense of direction. At one point I realized I had wandered into the next town.
But, hey, I DID get to video the hundreds of cyclists from a strategic corner. I was feeling so disappointed about missing the mass start, when I saw a whole line of patrol cars labeled La Pyrénéenne, followed by many official motorcycles and then the unending stream of riders whizzing by.

And an hour later, I talked to two women waiting for their men to come by in the second start, those doing the shorter route. I recorded that as well, because one from our group of friends was planning on that ride.

Here are some of the treasures from my adventure.

Every French town has a monument to honor their fallen.

...and lovely parks.

Old ornate churches...

...and a simpler Protestant church, the only one I saw in our European adventures.

And wonderful people!

This 84 year old man led me to my next landmark. He was fascinated by my world jacket; he had been a geography teacher for 30 years.

I had my geography and life lesson for the day.

2010 Weeks 23-25: Some Highlights

Going back three weeks as memory and photos permit.

Sunday, May 30th, we were together as a family to celebrate our birthdays, watch the Indy 500, be together one last time before our trip and eat, of course. So many photos, but my favorite is the one of the five grands.

The last time we went to Monday Meal at Chef-son's Mike won at chess...

...and again today! He is unbeatable!

Tuesday, June 1st, and again on the 16th we spent hours and hours in the air, almost always over or close to the wing.

And Wednesday, June 2nd and 16th, we went through the Madrid airport on our way to and from Bilbao...

home of the Guggenheim museum, contemporary structure seen at the end of this road.

We left Bilbao in a rented car, headed for Galicia in the NW corner of Spain. When we couldn't go any further we decided to spend the night in Gijón half way to our destination.

After finding an open spot to park, figuring out the blue zone parking ticket system, and settling into a small new hotel, we went for a walk to the must-see part of the old city.

We walked and walked and walked. Mike was determined to beat jet lag. Finally in bed by 11 p.m., we slept in till 9:30 and had to run and extend the parking ticket so as to avoid a hefty fine.   

Then, a good breakfast at the hotel and we were off to see our friends in El Ferrol.

We stayed in the house with the girls on their team and had a nice time getting acquainted. We found out as the Spanish say, that "El mundo es un pañuelo." (The world is like a handkerchief, it is so small.)

The girl on the right attends a school in Chicago and knows my professor cousin, Rosie. The one on the left attends a university in TN where Rosie's sister is an administrative assistant, and she comes from the little town where we were earlier this year for cycling training in the mountains.

Friday, June 4th, we took the three on a sight-seeing trip to the ancient and famous city of Santiago de Compostela, about an hour away. There we followed the sidewalk markings to the cathedral of St. James where hundreds of pilgrims were waiting to get in. This is the year of Jubilee.

 

We are getting back into our daily routines, preparing for the arrival of our Basque teen, Amaia, whose family hosted us so very generously and graciously in Hondarribia. We are also following the World Cup. You can see who I am rooting for.

Speaking of cheering someone on--Saturday I ran a 5 mile race along with  DIL Karen. As I was going along at my own pace, those already turning around cheered me on. I heard many say, "Good job!" as they passed, until I came to the last volunteer directing the runners on the right path. He said, "Did you get a late start?" I reminded him that the last shall be first. Sure enough, I got first place in my age division and won a door prize!

Today, Sunday June 20th, we had another family day--a welcome back from Basque Country, and Father's Day celebration. We shared a Basque style meal along with stories about our amazing experience, and gifts for all.

 

The BIG Day

A week ago today, we rose early full of anticipation and excitement.
It was the day of the long awaited cycling event, La Pyrenéenne! The guys had been training for months. Our big adventure in Basque Country was planned around this event, which actually took place in France.

We traveled to Bagneres de Bigorres the day before and met with more friends of our hosts, and settled into a lovely, quaint hotel for the night.

The guys doing the long three mountain route left for their 7:00 a.m. mass start. Some commented about Mike's RAIN jersey as the weather was already threatening precipitation. He was only showing off/advertising the Indiana cycling event--RideAcrossINdiana.

I ran after them intending to take pictures of the start and come right back and join the ladies for breakfast. Things turned out quite differently than planned. Stay tuned for that story, Monday perhaps.

Mid morning, us women went to the middle point of the figure eight shaped route you can see on this website and waited by the St. Marie church. That intersection was rather dangerous as two major cycling events came together going in opposite directions. Our guys were coming down from Tourmalet and the other riders were heading up. They were celebrating the 100th year of inclusion of the region and these mountains in the Tour de France.

I think the first one of our group that we saw come down was Dane. The 16 year-old whizzed by before we arrived. 

Mike was the last of the ten to come down from the fearful summit. The long descent in the increasing fog made him cold, stiff and shaky. He was determined to go on, however we managed to persuade him to shorten his ride by attempting only two of the climbs. The second one, the Aspin, was, as they say, 'a piece of cake' in comparison.

Two of the friends had planned on the late start or shorter route. One of them was so very excited about reaching the summit, he was quite emotional when he phoned his wife from up there. We waited and waited for him and when he came by, to our disappointment, he didn't even stop! We found out later what had taken so long--he had phoned the owner of the bicycle, his mother, his siblings, anyone he could think of to tell them of his thrilling success!

In the Spanish phrase book Mike picked up before we left the US, there was one page dedicated to the Basque language. There we found a cheer we thought might be appropriate to encourage 'us and ours':

Gora gu, ta gutarrak!

The friends were greatly amused, but didn't tell us till later that the radicals have now taken it up as their chant!

So the ride was far more challenging than expected and our guys came in almost last. 

Speaking of last, today I ran a 5 mile race and finished absolute last. The scripture that says The last shall be first proved true, however, and I won first place in my age category. The award was something very practical --a pair of Cool Max ankle socks.

Flashback Friday: Childhood Friends

Who was your first friend? Did you have lots of friends when you were growing up or just one or two close friends? Share memories from your childhood friends. For women, were "mean girls" an issue when you were growing up? Or were you a "mean girl"?! How did your friends shape who you are today, for good or not-so-good? Do you still keep up with your childhood friends today?

 This will be brief because I just returned from Spain, have a lot of catching up to do. Even though I had very good childhood friends, and still stay in touch with several of them, I will only talk about one, because today is her birthday--June 17th when I am writing this.

We must have met when we were very small because our father's were pastor's in the same fellowship, but we did not see one another very often as our families lived in different provinces and only got together at summer camp and/or annual general conference.

There was one time, however, when Mirtha and her family came to Buenos Aires for medical reasons. She had contracted polio as a baby. I believe this is the first photo of us together during the time they stayed with us. She is on my left.

I do believe that after that stay we corresponded faithfully for many, many years, long and often illustrated letters. Mirtha has a thick binder with all of mine and recently reread them to her great amusement.

I wish I were able to post the PowerPoint I created to tell the story of our friendship and for language teaching purposes. You could learn some Spanish! I will save you the effort and include only some of the photos.

Polio affected her spinal column, left her with severe scoliosis, and endangered her vital organs As a bedridden teenager she wrote a novel that won third place in a Moody writing contest.

This article was published in 1965.
Mirtha has since led a very full life as a literature prof, editor of a magazine for children, married 20 years, step mother and grandmother, writer and speaker, and encourager of many.

Three years ago I was privileged to visit her, only too briefly.

Happy Birthday, dear friend!

After you read this, you may want to go over to Mocha With Linda and read more stories of friendship.

Home again!

Top 10 Memories 
Impossible, try again!

Random list of highlights of our European adventure

--The Big Cycling Event: the guys conquered the terrible Tourmalet (2100 m, 30 Km climb) on its 100 year anniversary of inclusion in the Tour de France! However, they were in the last 10 out of 1000 riders.

(Check out the website for more info and photos.)

--Finding my way in a French city, i.e. lost and wandering for three hours.

--Travel by car across Northern Spain through varied terrain.

--Visit in Galicia with dear friends from our years on the ship Doulos.

--Learning about el Camino de Santiago, a centuries old famous pilgrimage, celebrating its jubilee year in 2010.

--Festive day in Oñati, quaint and beautiful town: guided tour of the oldest university in Basque Country and the Church of San Miguel; sports competitions; typical dances and music; and a very good visit with Irati and her mother.

--Mondragón Cooperative Movement success! The story of one quiet priest and his influence to bring people together, educate and effect the prosperity of a region with socioeconomic values and practices that have spread throughout the world.

--Seeing the stunning scenery of the Basque Country. The self proclaimed "marco incomparable" (unrivaled, unequaled, incomparable setting) of San Sebastian's Bahía de la Concha, was only one among many.

--Farm country, family run agricultural projects--vineyards; scientifically engineered tomato growing enterprises; dairy, beef, sheep farms...

--Our visit coincided with two town festivals, a very anticipated soccer game, Amaia's band concert (she plays accordion) and more.

--A very interesting and informative tour of a pottery workshop and museum, Ollerías, where one woman is attempting to bring back a long lost craft and art.

--Art, architecture, historic monuments everywhere you turn. Fascinating stuff!

--Huge, ginormous,ornate church buildings and cathedrals, some centuries-old and built over hundreds of years as the donations came in. I began to appreciate much of the imagery, which served to instruct and remind the vast illiterate majority in the Middle Ages.

--Alberto, our host, took vacation days, planned each day's outing, drove us all around and taught us so much.

--Fabulous food and great fellowship around the table. Men cook.

--Meeting Amaia's family and their friends was number ONE highlight! Such wonderful people! We have so much to learn from them and their way of life!

The list could go on, but for now this was enough to help me get started. I was feeling overwhelmed, almost paralyzed by ALL that I wanted to share. Like Anne Lamott suggests in her book titled, Bird By Bird, we ought to go about it one thing at a time. So, what item do you want to hear more about?

Flashback Friday: Siblings

Mocha With Linda's Prompt # 11

Do you have siblings? (If not, keep reading - I'll get to you.) How many and are they boys or girls? Where do you fall in the birth order? How did you view your "spot" in the family compared with the others? If you are the oldest, did you resent the things the youngest got to do that you didn't? If the youngest, what did you want to do like the older ones? And if you are more of a middle child, how did that impact you? How do you think your birth order shaped your personality? Did you and your siblings like each other growing up or did you fight all the time? Are you close now? Or at least friends with each other?! What memories stand out about you and your siblings?

If you are an only child, how did you like that? Were you glad to have all the attention or did you want to have a brother or sister? What advantages were there to being an only child? What disadvantages? Which side of the fence is greener?!

For everyone, did your sibling experiences (or lack thereof!) affect your decision to have kids or to have a certain number?

No direct access to photos this time tho' I would have some cute ones on my computer at home. Here in Northwest Spain where I am for a couple days, internet access is sporadic. Right now in the middle of the night, I can't sleep but I can blog. So for as long as my luck lasts, I will try to respond.

I am the oldest of five and the favorite daughter ;)
Always hoped for a sister, however that never happened so I maintained my favored position in the family. Of course, with privilege comes responsibility. I sometimes was required to look after my brothers, but I was bossy and mean at times and thus was relieved of the duty. Yes, believe it or not, I made my younger sibling cry and beg to be allowed back in the house, red-faced eyes swollen. I don't know if I gave in or not. Believe me, I am not proud of that.
Another time I was swinging and urged him to come closer and closer to see how close I could get to flying over him. It didn't work and he ended up with a gash in his forehead. Again, I can't believe my mean stupidity.
The next brother broke his arm when he jumped off the big tricycle I was pushing him on. Probably my fault.
How they survived and still love me I do not know.
The youngest was in luck 'cause he was only months old when I went off to college.
Our family was spread out enough that each of us lived a different phase of our missionary family experience.
All of us, without exception, are grateful for our upbringing in Argentina, and all of us have returned a time or more. Two have served there as missionaries at one time and another is there now.
We all love one another and try to stay in touch as much as possible.
Attempting to bring back the memories of my growing up years in Argentina has brought me closer to my next sibling (the one I tormented). He has an excellent memory and is helping me recover those lost years.
All for now. It is 3 a.m. I am going to try to get some sleep.