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Sunday 25 March 2012

What can you do about loud revelers through the night when you're parked in a public place? Nothing. The youths who were partying right outside our van didn't seem threatening just LOUD! We looked out at the beautiful fountain of a female holding a lyre not 500 meters from the mightily impressive Frank Geary Guggenhiem Museum. All was quiet in the morning except for the splashing of the fountain water as we stowed and began our QUEST FOR YLIZALITURRI. This was the family name of Dian's sister in law and we were hoping to see the town her mother's basque family hailed from. 

Lunch spot

We drove inland bidding a fond farewell to Bilbao. The mountainous region we drove through was a perfect place to pull over and have the egg salad sandwiches we'd prepared and breathe in the crisp air. Many bike riders passed our van on the way up the steep mountain and we waved to them hoping that when one or another of them chose to wave back he wouldn't lose his balance and go crashing down the hill.

Photo taken by Dian

San Sebastian

Typical image

We went into San Sebastian and immediately met a couple who showed us the best way to get into the old town. There we saw the Christ statue called Sagrado Corazon which loomed over the bay and the church which Dian's brother Tim's wife's family helped to build a few centuries ago. We think. Walking around the town we saw how the better half lived and still do on the north coast of Spain. But we were on a mission so we left after a short visit and headed on to Lizarra. (Though we were tempted to stay and  check out the cement museum - where we thought the family name might appear. However Nicole said she couldn't think of anything more boring than a cement museum so we passed).

As we closed in on the switch backs leading to "Lizarra" the town we had on an e-mail from Marta's sister, we started to have forebodings. Didn't they say it wasn't too far from San Sebastian and Hondarribia? As the miles and hours went by and snow was on the sides of the road we started to wonder. Finally we reached the town and the ten people in the service station/cafe said that they didn't know of any name that started with "y" only something like LIZALITURRI but even that wasn't a name they knew. Dang it. The closest highway that would take us back up to the San Sebastian area was out of Pamplona another 45 minutes away. (No, the bulls weren't running). While driving towards another possible town called Lizartza enroute to San Sebastian we happened upon a fantastically decorated house on the side of the road. Across the road were two beautiful shetland type ponies. We pulled over and called out to the man who had been seen fleetingly. Undaunted by his non response we entered the yard and soon Juan Guritti, the sculptor/painter/musician greeted us. What followed is a story that Nicole's photos can most eloquently describe. Suffice it to say he was the genuine ARTicle and we were privileged to spend an hour and a half viewing his studio and workroom.

We just want you to know we were there:

Can you tell what the blue art piece is made from?

Find the chicken

Back on the trail of Marta's family, only ten minutes up the road we found ourselves in Lizartza. Since it was dinnertime we parked in the church square then asked at the first tavern (well, there were only two) if anyone had heard of a family in the cement business long ago and whose female relative was the mayor of Lizzara or Lizartza recently. Nada. The group having drinks were trying to be helpful but once again the names in that Spanish Basque part of the region all started with many different letters but never a "y". "Why?" We were stumped. To lessen the disappointment and have the only authentic basque meal we were likely to have, we walked down to the "other" tavern and ordered the fish. Three courses of fish were served starting with a delicious soup, followed by fish complete with it's gelatinous eye and finally a yummy fish in lemon garlic sauce. When our waitress queried if we'd like dessert we said, no we were stuffed. Too bad they still smoke in those places. As we went to bed we all stunk like ashtrays.