The beach on a gray day is morose...
...but when the sun is out it's a whole 'nother Oprah.
There is more leather at the pool than at a gay pride parade. This would be a great place to be a dermatologist. All shapes and sizes...and vintages, all looking for the darkest tan. One woman was the color of a cuban cigar, another had enough rolls to hold up her substantial tanned bare bosom. And she was wearing enough gold necklaces to fund a revolution.
Hired a car and driver to go to St Jean de Luz.
Pretty port town, great beach. Crowded. Meandered down old streets, ate chewy one-story macaroons, not the sandwich kind you find in other places. Stopped for a cappucino...as Wally says ordering is always an adventure, you never know what you're going to get!
It was a bit surreal, sitting in a medieval square in France, drinking Viennese coffee, listening to a Basque band play Turkey In The Straw. What planet are we on?
Met five of our fellow travelers. All five brought their own bikes and look impossibly fit, like they live on yoghurt and green beans and tofu. They look fast. I feel like the last kid chosen for the volleyball team, standing on the sidelines wishing the earth would open up and swallow me. I know I can hold my own in the eating and drinking department, but I only expect to see our fellow travelers as they peel out of the hotel driveway in the morning...and when I drag my tired butt in at night. Oh well, it's not just a bike trip, it's and adventure! And tomorrow at 0-dark-hundred we're off.
Wish us luck!