Francine had originally ear-marked a campsite near Saint-Jean-de-Luz but, as it transpired, our friends from the UK had also been working their way down the west of France and were now on another campsite near Saint-Jean-de-Luz. It would seem churlish not to join them. Besides, we’d welcome the company. After a swift replanning of our route we duly arrived at their campsite, instead, and settled down to wait for them get back on the bus from town.
Our friends duly returned from their trip out and helped us relax a few drinks. I clearly relaxed over a few drinks too many and began to feel a bit wobbly.
I managed to recover from yesterday’s excesses we decided to head into Saint-Jean-de-Luz ourselves on the bus, no less, along with our friends who have already braved the trip and know something of how the system works. €1.30 a head each way got us, via a rather circuitous route, down into the bus station in Saint-Jean-de-Luz.
Our first port of call was the market, and oh what a market it is. It had been a reduced market yesterday when our friends visited but now it was in full flow. Along with the meat stalls, the fish stalls were stunning with all manner of spankingly fresh species. Alongside some bonito, there was what has to be the largest John Dory I have ever clapped eyes on. How these places put our supplies to shame. If only I could do justice to something here in Frodo. Instead we treated ourselves to a degustation of 6 oysters with a small glass of Jurançon, a white wine from southwest France. The oysters, from the Basin d’Arcachon, were delicious.
Elevenses over, we continued gauping at the market stalls. Another stall of bottled delicacies soon had me reaching for my wallet again. I could not resist a small jar of foie de lotte [monkfish liver] at €5.50, which we had first tried in a restaurant in Dieppe several years ago. I have also tried cooking it myself down in Mirepoix but it maybe best left to the gourmet specialists. We’ll see.
We were approaching lunch o’clock so friend and I sat down under a sun-shaded bar/restaurant to quaff a beer each while the ladies went in search of a boulanger. Food shops other then the market were proving to be a bit thin on the ground. Eventually the ladies joined us and we all tucked into a sharing plate of local charcuterie and cheeses, with another round of drinks, of course.
We walked off lunch along the promenade overlooking La Grande Plage; it wasn’t a crowded beach but there were quire a few sun-worshipers toasting themselves gently in the rays. There were a few colourfully striped beach tents, as opposed to beach huts, which Francine had a little fun with, though she did not have her #1 camera, so the phone had to suffice.
We made our way back to the bus station and our circuitous return ride to the campsite.
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