Biarittz is for the birds. The lucky ones.

The first weekend of les vacances de Pâques (Easter) began with a petit weekend at the Ocean of the Bay of Biscay.

Eloise and I began by taking the bus to the very east of Toulouse, then started to wander with a sweet (if I may say so) sign reading 'Biarritz...stp' spelled in inviting bright neon. As our meter of faith began to peter out, our first ride stopped. A city bus. This must happen as often as my teddy bear makes my bed. But if my teddy bear offered to do my tidying, I have to say I wouldn't refuse. We hopped on with mildly shocked grins. He took us a bit further up to the highway with a bit of advice and a cheery goodbye. After another short ride from two relaxed guys listening to catchy indian rap, we tumbled upon our luck. A talkative chap driving to exactly the same region, Bayonne, a city only 5 minutes away.


And stepping out to the ocean shore, we congratulated ourselves and walked along the shoreline searching coffee.

The original plan was to play games in the majestic casino, but (and be warned, all fellow americans), you will not be allowed in without a passport...I did my best to argue I was indeed an English citizen, but to no avail, we were banished to the bench to drink hot wine during the drizzly afternoon.

 

   






On the other hand, we had already procured a couchsurfer, an american named Anda, who came to find us with his friend William. Living in a gorgeous southern french home just a quick bus ride from Biarritz, Anda welcomed us in with a true couchsurfer spirit. He had run a race and won that morning, so impressing us with his regalia of trophies (which were cleverly turned into punch bowls).






The night continued with assorted games and foolery, nostalgic conversation reminiscing about the states, funny hats, and little ballades on William's vintage (by vintage I mean classic and classy, not second-hand) guitar.












After an adorable french breakfast, we sauntered back to the beach. Greeted by the welcoming sun, the surfers were out to play.

The pizzeria 

(majestic casino on the right)

After a must have lunch of pays basque-ean pizza, hints of ice cream wafted through the streets, as tempting as taking the carpool lane when you're driving single. To say no would be a crime indeed.

Thus Biarritz is a must do and do again.