Loire Valley Chateaux and fine wine

Well I'm back for my second effort, try and keep it short (only kidding).

We arrived in the Loire Valley to be met with lush valleys, the River Loire, which is massive by the way, and more chateaux than i have had hot dinners.

Our accommodation was sumptuous and part of the Royal Amboise Chateau.The town of Amboise is very elegant. Leonardo Da Vinci lived here shortly before he died, we saw his house and his grave. 

The chateau, former home of Charles VIII, was very impressive. A proper castle and not just a posh house, complete with suits of armour and the like. 

Full of french history we went on the hunt of yet more Chateaux and came upon Chenonceau, built on the river Chene and equally as impressive as Amboise. Catherine de Medici was the tour de force here. The furnishings were very lavish and despite tourists of the world pushing and shoving in and out of small entrances the visit was first class.

After a night on the local grape we headed off again to chateau number three, the daddy of them all, Chambord. 

The place is huge and known for its architectural design. In particular the two central staircases intertwined and spiralling through the centre of the chateau to the top of the tallest tower. You can see the people on the other staircase but you will never meet; very Harry Potteresque. 

A walk round the grounds was needed to recover from the stairs (not good for Mr Vertigo) especially when you come out onto the castle roof. The grounds are massive and surrounded by a 20 mile long wall.

We decided three chateaux were sufficient but there are dozens. If you love stately type homes and french history then book two weeks and you will still have some left over. As a base you will be well served by Amboise. The quality of the food was some of the best we have tasted in France so far. 

La Belle France

The Dordogne, where emerald green fields meet meandering rivers and walled medieval villages cling precariously to cliff edges.  A definite stop for us (and it seems lots of other tourists - especially Brits!!) With more “Plus Beux villages” (most beautiful villages) than anywhere else in the country we shouldn’t really have been surprised.    

Our wonderfully secluded farmhouse had magnificent views of the surrounding countryside.  The owner, has lived in the hamlet for over 20 years and kindly agreed to take us on a walk to explore the surrounding area.  Unfortunately this meant that the particularly viscious german shepherd/ husky that she had recently rescued had to accompany us. The only saving grace was that it hated Mike more than me. It is probably wrong to admit that I breathed a huge sigh of relief when it went missing for most of the walk.  It was just a pity it showed up back at home.

Our exploration of the beautiful villages commenced at Sarlat-la-Caneda, a picture postcard medieval village with winding alleyways and honey coloured buildings.  Rude waiters aside, one of the many pavement cafes in the entirely pedestrianised medieval quarter, is the perfect spot to sit under a parasol sipping a glass of vin blanc and indulging in the local delicacy of foie gras.  Even the hoards of tourists do not take away from the charm of the place. 

The heatwave that hit on day two (temperatures in the early 40s every day) didn’t deter us from continuing with our exploration but it did mean that we made much more use of the swimming pool in the afternoons than we had originally envisaged. We simply set out early to ensure that we did not miss out on the stunning 180 degree view of the Dordogne Valley from the vantage point at Domme, the meandering riverbank stroll at Brantome and the cruise aboard a wooden- hulled gabarre at la Roque de Gageac. 

We spent a peaceful and relaxing week in this gorgeous region and have no doubt that we will head back here in the future. 

On our journey from the Dordogne to the Loire Valley we stopped at the town of Oradour -sur-Glane.  It was here on 10 June 1944 that one of the worst Nazi atrocities was committed on French soil.   The entire town (647 inhabitants) were ordered in to the village square.  The men were separated from the women and children and then divided in to smaller groups. At gunpoint they were forced in to garages around the village.  The women and children were all herded in to the church.  On the giving of an order the church was set on fire and 200 soldiers opened fire on the men.  Only 5 people survived.  The soldiers stood by and watched as the village burnt and returned the next day to remove the charcoaled remains of the  642 bodies.  As a memorial to the people that were killed.  The crumbling towns remains exactly as it was left, with charcoaled stained walls, the upturned remains of tables and chairs in the cafes and the rusty remains of cars parked where they were left that day.  As a mark of respect, visitors are asked to explore the village in silence a rule which everyone obeys, even the birds.  Never have I visited anywhere before where even the birds don’t sing.  It was extraordinarily moving.   

Jennie and Tom's visit

With visitors to impress we thought that the glitz and glamour of Biarritz and San Sebastian were the order of the day. 

After our foray in to the spanish side of rural basque country, the familiarity of a french costal town was a dream come true.  With pavement cafes lining every cobbled street (with menus that we could understand) and an abundance of mouth watering artisan delights to tantalise the taste buds at the indoor market, we knew immediately that we were going to like the place! We think that Jennie and Tom agreed. 

Biarritz’ star attractions are its beaches - three to be precise!  Given the ridiculous heatwave we encountered whilst there (48 degrees one day) they were lined end to end with spit roasting bodies whilst swimmers and surfers fought for the perfect ride on one of the enormous atlantic ocean waves.  

The craggy headland is littered with stylish belle epoque and art deco buildings proving a glimpse of the old school glamour that must have surrounded visits from Napleon III & princess Eugenie and later the British aristocrats.  

When it comes to food Biarritz appears to have all bases covered.  From traditional french cuisine for Jennie; Escargots (surprisingly tasty - if a little gritty) and creme brulee... to a traditional American Diner for Mike (well it was his birthday!)  

We spent a very enjoyable four days there before making the half an hour journey back across the Spanish border and in to the grand old city of San Sebastian.  

This stylish city sits elegantly between two long crescent shaped beaches one of which has calm tranquil waters, ideal for a nice relaxing paddle, and the other (our favourite) which is constantly battered by the white water of the Atlantic - ideal for taking out a body board! 

We happened to arrive in town for San Sebastian’s biggest fiesta of the year (yes, unplanned again!!).  It seemed like the whole of Spain had arrived in town and they intended to party!  The streets came alive to the sound of bongo drums and spanish guitars.  There were huge stages on every corner providing free music and dance concerts. Street artists popped up every few meters with acts ranging from crazy guys spinning on their heads (technical name for it) to traditional spanish singers.  The once peaceful coastal road was transformed in to a buzzing fairground 

We couldn't resist

and as always - the piece de la resistance was the nightly firework display that rivaled anything we have seen before... and all for free!  

During our three days stay we tucked in to some delicious cuisine.  From the traditional fish restaurants of the quayside to the modern haute cuisine on our last night everything was delightful.  We must even confess to having thoroughly enjoyed our pintxos and sangria bar crawl through the old town - experiencing for the first time how pintox ought to be done!!

Basking in the Basque country

Until a week ago we might have said that we had spent the last seven days in Spain but we now know that do so would be a huge faux pas!  Despite the Basque region spanning both Spain and France it is fiercely independent and proud of its own identity.  Ask any local on, either side of the border, what is their nationality and the answer will always be “I am Basque”.  They have what is considered to be the oldest language in western europe and unlike any other we have ever come across.  It bears no resemblance to the latin tongues of France or Spain making it particularly difficult to read menus!   

After having spent the previous week lolling on the golden sands of Santander, we decided that it was time to head inland for some rural tranquility.  We chose Zestoa and found ourselves a hotel that would once have been regal and full of old world charm.  Unfortunately for us, despite its exterior elegance, its former days of glory were well and truly passed.  Elements of faded grandeur could be appreciated in the musty old ballroom and the half working chandeliers and it certainly had an amazing view from our bedroom window.  

Not a bad view! 

The hotel

Zestoa is a sleepy little village that comes to life in the evenings.  Every night locals gather in the main square to eat Pintxos (tapas), catch up on the days events and let their children run wild! Oddly we found a very modern funky bar with state of the art TVs where we could drink cheap beer, watch a nightly round up of the Spanish olympic highlights (that didn’t take long) and eat the daily offerings decorating the bar.   

Our plans to don our walking boots and while away our days exploring the surrounding mountains was brought to an abrupt conclusion when, on our first outing, we were faced with deranged guard dogs around every bend that raced towards us with glazed eyes and bear fangs - a truly unpleasant experience! 

Naturally this meant that we migrated back to the coast to discover what the Cantabrian sea shore has to offer.  We were pleasantly surprised.  65 million year old rock formations act as a perfect backdrop to stunning golden sands with breaks to make even the most experiences surfer’s heart miss a beat.  

Old fishing ports, their cobbled streets lined with pintxos bars, are interspersed with lively beach resorts giving a laid back but often bustling vibe.  There was even a village called Deba which we had to visit. Mike insisted that I have my picture taken with a road sign so here you go.... Deb in Deba:

Pintxos are the order of the day in most places.  These work well for an early evening snack to accompany your Rioja as the sun sets but not as a substitute for an evening meal which was often the case.  Freshly caught fish was on offer at some of the fishing ports but inland was a different story. After a few days we found ourselves craving the gastronomic delights that we had become accustomed to in France. In our quest to find an evening meal that you could eat with a knife and fork we discovered that everything comes with chips. Maybe we were unlucky with our choice of restaurants but being served frozen fish in a port side restaurant (which incidentally was still cold) and what tasted like tinned meatballs - with the ubiquitous chips - was really disappointing.  

A dividing line can certainly be drawn through the centre of the Basque county. That is not the line between France and Spain but between costal and rural.  There is a marked difference between the two.  The wealthy coastal resorts are modern, bustling and vibrant whilst time appears to have stood still in its rural counterparts.  Whilst visiting the small village of Azpetzia we stumbled upon yet another festival.  The cavernous cathedral was packed to the rafters with locals in their finery.  Following the service a procession took to the streets with a marching band and some age old basque costumed men banging drums and blowing what looked like reorders.  The piece de la resistance was parents allowing there very young children (as young as 5 years old) do their own miniature version of Pamplona.  Yes, a gun fired and before our eyes hoards of children fled screaming and shouting from a herd of bulls (albeit baby ones!!). 

The traditional rural eccentricities were also on display on our last night in Zestoa . The whole village clamoured amongst one another in the church square to shout and cheer as 8 young guys, chained to a wooden beam, lifted a huge concrete boulder and marched up and down the square until they passed out (...well give it a couple more minutes and we’re sure they would have done!). Very strange.  

Mike was in his element when he realised that the matadors and their entourage that were performing at the local arena were staying in our hotel.  He couldn't resist going to inspect their capes and swords and ask for a photo. This is Antonio Ferrarer, apparently he is a big deal in bull fighting circles!