We landed at the tiny but ever-so-modern Aeroport Pau and met one of the most amusing people I have met in my 30 years (he's up there among the greats). This gentleman with a collared red tee with a couple of neck buttons undone, gold chain, black leather jacket (the kind with the elasticated wrists and bottom), navy trousers, very white trainers, and a bum bag sitting atop his tummy. Let's call him Mr J. He was there with his daughter who stood by their baggage trolley, looking very disinterested, while he father walked around purposefully with his/their large passport pouch, squinting at the display boards through glasses perched at the end of his nose. Dot poked me in the ribs saying I should go chat up and try to help my lost-looking makapao brethren. We struck up a conversation and I found out that Mr J was very "katlick" but from Karnataka and now an American citizen (ah, that explains the very white trainers), who had lived in Germany for a few years, and is now visiting relatives in London (more like Southampton, but it's always London for the Indians; a little bit like all the Bengalis you meet come from Calcutta and all the Tamilians come from Chennai). So Mr J was doing the rounds of the holy places in Europe with his daughter who had never travelled out of America. They had been to the Vatican and were now en route to Lourdes, through Pau. Dot's French got us a wonderfully friendly cabbie who agreed to drop us off and then take them onward to the train station. We rode into town with Mr J and the daughter. He then proceeded to ask, like only Indians can, us how old we were, how long we had been married and why we didn't have children, and told us we should have children immediately because 'it's not good to delay'. Among lots of other interesting little stories, we exchanged numbers and they promised to 'return the kindness' if we were ever in California.
The weather was fantastic that day - almost 22 degrees and clear skies.
These pictures were taken from the Boulevard des Pyrénées which is a long elevated walkway that runs along one side of the city, with a magnificent view on the mountains. The interesting bit is that the portion of the walkway railing you are standing at, at any point, will give you the name of the peaks you can see from there. The clear weather made for some stunning vistas and a very shutter-happy Dot.
We thought it would be fairly easy to get to the mountains from the city centre but it was apparently about 60km away, not easily accessible by train the same day, so we decided to stay and explore the local area.
Sunday brought crazy weather and the tourist office suggested Lourdes which quickly appealed to my Catholic soul. It was only 30 minutes away from Pau on the terribly comfortable French trains. It turned out to be a wonderful experience. For one, it wasn't as crowded as I've heard it can get during the tourist season. The sky was overcast and it was very windy, and yet there was an eerie calm, like we were on the brink of a storm (which, as it turns out, we were!). We went down to the grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes, sat and prayed a while, and then took a long leisurely walk along the stream. The views were beautiful and we took pictures, as usual. We attended a service at the church. As luck would have it, we were indoors when the storm started and it was still raining when we made our way back into the town centre. Being Sunday, everything, and I mean everything, was shut. The Europeans take their Sabbath very seriously, I tell you. We made our way down winding roads and we could have well been walking in the Bandra Fair.
Watching French TV on on Sunday night, we were introduced to the phenomenon the French call LE BINGE DRINKING. It is a vice they say has made it's way over from the neighbouring L’Angleterre and one that is causing the French much worry. The news item involved a first-hand report from a mother who said her son met some random people on 'le MSN messenger' and they met up in some isolated spot for a round of LE BINGE DRINKING. While we agreed the message was serious, we were in stitches about the newsreaders dropping their voices, going all grave, and in the Frenchest (sic) of accents, saying 'LE BINGE DRINKING'. One more for the Franglais diaries.
Monday, the last day of our trip, we trekked alongside the swollen Gave de Pau river for a few hours, and went across it into the Jurançon district, not quite making it to the vineyards the region is famous for. We also got some all important exercise along the way.
We got back to a surprisingly sunnier but as-terribly-industrial-looking-as-ever London Stansted on Tuesday morning. I have to say this trip was made more fantastic by the following:
My lightweight, completely waterproof and completely cool (and pink!) walking boots:
My fabulous (and very red) Peter Storm trail jacket: 
And our new trusty friend the Joby Gorillapod which makes taking 'together' pictures much more interesting than our 'nostrils' approach: 
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