may 14 - tristan!

on the 13th i caught a train to vienna, then an overnight to strasbourg, then to marseilles, then to nice, where i met tristan at the airport. i was thrilled to see him, having looked forward to this chapter of the travels for a long time.

we didn't mess around in nice, in my mind just another patong (trendy, packed with tourists, utterly unaffordable) - yech. we hurried on to hendaye, a port town in the southwest corner of france, right on the border with spain. basque country. hendaye is the beginning of the GR-10, an 866km trail that stretches from one end of the pyranees to the other, winding back and forth across the french-spanish border. we arrived in town late, and ended up sleeping in some woods that were probably part of someone's yard (we had to climb a barbed wire fence to get in).

after that first night camping was a lot easier. we headed up into the hills, hiking east for four days before turning back toward hendaye. each day we tried to pass through one village, to fill up our water bottles and buy bread and other groceries. this was tricky sometimes because we were definitely in siesta country, and just about everything closed at about 12:30, opening again a couple hours later, if at all. so some nights we had awkward meals.

we passed through the villages of biriatou, ibardin, and sare, making it almost to ainhoa on our last day, and making a detour on the way back to go to la rhun. being on the border, some of these towns had both french and spanish names (hendaye = hendaya, sare = sara, la rhun = larrun). and some street names had basque translations included. hearing basque was wild, it sounds like nothing else i've ever heard.

we really didn't walk all that far. the steepness of the terrain, the weight of our packs, and various aches and pains kept us down to an average of maybe 5 hours of hiking per day. we stretched a lot, did yoga and chi gong, took naps, took breaks to read in condusive spots, and short side-trips without our packs. each night i made a campfire, even when all the wood was soaked, so that we could roast our fresh vegetables and saugages. and we talked. especially in those first couple days, i was extremely stimulated by tristan's presence- not surprising given my last couple weeks of lone austerity. i felt like a whole new person, just bubbling with social energy.

but yes, although we could see the real dramatic snowcapped pyranees in the distance, we barely scratched the surface of their rhelm. distance covered was not the goal, although if i ever return i believe that it will be.

the basque countryside is a strange society. there is very little industry besides tourism, and the lack of jobs leaves the region almost devoid of young people, who must just all be living in cities. almost all the tourists we saw were middle-aged and older french people. almost everyone on the mountain trails were older couples, locals on day-hikes. we saw a few people with big packs like us, but i think that they were all french too. the droves of internationals supposedly come in august, which probably both increases services for backpackers - food and lodging - and also increases local vigilance - chasing campers off of private land.

the people that do live in the area we hiked through seemed to be pretty well-off. people on pensions or government money or something. all the houses were picture-perfect whitewashed with tile roofs and big yards and gardens. certainly weren't any slums, or the rural trailerpark strip-towns characteristic of the states' rural regions.

the return hike was nice because we knew all the best camping spots and necessary timing between towns. we could take our time and relax, as on the way out we'd wasted so much time wandering around lost. the GR-10 is well marked in most places, but not everywhere.

we got back to hendaye on friday. tristan caught a train back to nice on saturday. he'll be at his tama do training in the hills near there for the next two weeks, and i will spend this chunk of timing wwoofing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms - the french website is http://www.wwoof.fr/). i spent the weekend walking around hendaye, reading and worrying about connecting with my wwoof hosts. i camped in the hills just outside of town, in a lovely thick patch of trees covered in ivy. it's been raining pretty much constantly, but i managed to catch a couple hours of sun on sunday afternoon, spreading out all my gear and finally getting dry.

sunday night i caught a train to dax, then a bus to mont de marsan, where i was picked up by steve. steve and karina are a british couple, around 40 years old, who have been living here for the last 10 years with their three kids - jack, 12; finley, 10; and ella, 4. they live in a massive old house, called chateau lassalle, which is just outside of a little village called aignan. they don't know how old the house is exactly, but its been here since the 1400s at least. there are also two barns, a guesthouse, yards and fields, gardens, and a pond on the property.

i think it was all in disrepair when they bought it, and they've been fixing it up slowly ever since. steve is a handyman extraordinaire. i know that he's done lots of landscaping, put new tile floors into the entire house, built a traditional slate roof, and built a very nice garden. who knows what else, a place this massive and old and complicated must absorb thousands of hours of labor.

steve has a law degree, used to teach literature, and has always run an antique trade. karina is a journalist who runs and writes for a magazine. she researches wealthy philanthropists and their organizations and publishes their financial dealings, and the resulting transparency helps keep them honest and helps charities and other groups seeking funds. they both appear to be tireless champions of parenting, carefully and creatively chosen careers, and domestic projects.

most importantly they are extremey generous. they feel that 30 hours of work a week is a fair exchange for room and board, which is perfectly acceptable to me. with my first shower and laundry in several weeks, and a comfy bed in an old (dry!) camper, i am very happy. it still feels like vacation, even though i just spent the last two days shovelling muddy clay in the rain, which is just as fun as it sounds. the food and wine and company and environment are excellent, and i feel right at home.