Sand in the Toes
Our little hotel in Biarritz is really batting above its average with its breakfast selection. It seems like a bit of a one man band, with the same friendly guy always on duty who’s a jack of all trades. When he’s not checking guests in, he is making beds, handing out sight-seeing tips or clearing dishes. He took us through the fare on offer this morning, including a juice-your-own-oranges stand and oversized croissants. He put the word “local” before everything he showed us, making it sound so much more delicious - local yoghurts, local cheeses, local ham…We really ate like a local!
Since we arrived on dusk last night (in the rain) we were so delighted to see blue skies today and set off on an exploratory walk down to the beach. The coastline is stunning with a walkway that winds its way around all the different beaches, giving you the option of taking the stairs down to the sand or continuing along the scenic walkway at the top. The first little beach, closest to the main street, reminded us of Tamarama, flanked by swanky restaurants overlooking the sand and colourful murals in archways along the promenade. A group of school kids were listening attentively to lifesaving pointers from their instructor, while a handful of swimmers splashed around in the crystal clear sea. It looked very inviting but we hadn’t worn our cossies, thinking we’d go for a big walk first and then go back for a swim later on.
Just around the corner was one of Biarritz’s most iconic landmarks: the Rocher de la Vierge (which sounds much classier than ‘Rock of the Virgin’, which is what it translates to). On the top of a tall rocky outcrop out off the beach, a white (bronze) statue of the Virgin Mary herself, stands facing the ocean, where she has stood, resolute, since 1865. According to legend, French sailors were on their way back to shore with their proud catch: a giant whale. A siren with snake hair and a petrifying gaze, met them on their way in and the sailors somehow got her offside, becoming the recipients of her scorn and a spell that effectively obliterated both them and their mammoth catch of the day. As they say: “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”…especially when she has snakes for hair.
Mary was installed as a general good luck charm, watching over the sailors and keeping them safe from storms, shipwrecks (and angry, magic sirens). A footbridge was erected in the late 1800s to link the mainland with the little Mary island. With wild waves crashing against the rock, it was fun to walk right out there into the sea and get a great view back of the town.
There’s still a very vibrant fishing culture here in Biarritz and down near the marina, where the smell of fish wafts gently on the breeze, there’s a row of boat sheds, draped in nets, where salty old sea dogs in denim caps, tamper with floats and fishing gear. It was such a great atmosphere. There was a guy scaling little fish at a table, transferring them from one tub of ice to another. I asked him if I could please take a photo of his fish. He didn’t speak any English but gave me a beaming smile, pointed to his face and insisted he be in the photo too.
Just around the next corner, at the far end of the Grande Plage, was a magnificent looking building with its own amazing history. Apparently, the wife of Emperor Napoleon - Eugenie - spent her family holidays making sandcastles here on the beach and had such fond memories of Biarritz, she brought her hubby back to check it out. He fell in love with the place too and in 1855, decided to build her a modest little summer house right on the sand, putting Biarritz on the radar of other rich and famous holiday makers. The “Palace” became a luxurious hotel in 1881 and remains so to this day, with 142 guest rooms and 56 separate suites, all gazing out at the blue Atlantic Ocean. It was awesome.
The coastline of Biarritz was also littered with impressively big rock formations popping out of the sea, or resting on the sand; France’s answer to the Twelve Apostles. They were really beautiful! We ventured down onto the coarse sand of the Grande Plage only to find it was like quick sand and with every step we were sinking deep. The beach was so wide and spacious and they had red and yellow flags just like home. Loads of surfers were out in the water, making the most of the consistent sets rolling in. We had a quick FaceTime with Molly so we could show her the beach too.
Everything was open from 10am until 7pm so the main street was a hive of activity with locals and tourists catching up for a chat, dining at outdoor cafes, buying icecreams, or browsing in the gorgeous little shops. In every other French city we’ve been in so far, electric scooters have been the preferred mode of transport, zooming around the streets at high speed, dodging pedestrians and often only missing them by a whisker. Here though, we haven’t seen a single one, with e-bikes the Biarritztars’ go-to way of getting around.
This afternoon, Ross and I had some dips and chips and a coffee made by a friendly French girl who had worked as a barista in Australia. Halleluja! Rossco decided to go for a run, while I did some retail therapy and had a browse-fest in town. I saw a lingerie shop and in need of a new bra, popped in to have a look. The sales assistant was keen for a sale and gave me a truckload of choices to try on. As fast as I could get them on, she was presenting me with new ones and insisted on whipping back the curtain without warning so I flashed the whole shop on several occasions. She seemed totally unfazed and so did my fellow bra shoppers. When in France…
My other foray into the fitting room today was to try on a dress in another shop. The shop assistant gave me her “biggest size in the WHOLE shop” (which I’m sure was only equivalent to an Australian size 8) and when I had to come out to the communal mirror (don’t you hate those?) I said I didn’t think it was very flattering and she agreed a little too wholeheartedly, adding in “It looks terrible”, just for good measure! Needless to say she missed out on a sale.
Ross’ run was a lot hillier that he’d expected but he did spy a good golf course that could be worth a visit if he ever comes back. Perhaps his ‘Player of the Universe’ tournament might have to venture abroad? Dinner tonight was at a fabulous Italian restaurant. As we were approaching, I was coaching Ross, teaching him how to ask for a table for 2 in French. He was chanting it over and over and was feeling confident and ready to speak, when the waiter approached us and before Ross could utter a single “excusez-moi”, the waiter had thrust his two fingers high in the air and without a word, directed us to our seats. Next time?
Dinner was delicious and we were treated with a Paul Kelly song while we ate. We thought It might have been in our honour but the waiter hadn’t known the music was Australian, let alone the fact that we were from the land down under, so it was just a happy coincidence. Sitting outside, we were also treated by a miraculously smoke-free environment - how good and how very rare in France!
Biarritz has won our hearts.
