Cathedral of Ataun : Random #3

This place is just as quiet and frozen in time as this picture makes it look.

Ataun, Gipuzkoa. Basque Country, but in the purest sense of the word. A beautiful mini-world where everyone understands each other and no one from outside understands anyone. We were the only foreigners in the town, apart from a few Muslims and a Basque-speaking American woman long since married. This was the view from our window, the center of town culture, the ancient Ataun cathedral. We were housed this summer in the priest's apartment, and I would spend hours reading the history of the church and the village.  Sundays we went to mass, which barring any special occasion would be held in the small chapel to the side. The crowded, warm (because even in July it was cold in this village) chapel was preferable to the  echoing of the hymns off the mostly-empty pews.

Photo #2,316 of 11,269 photos. Randomly selecting one every day this month for  a little thing called National Blog Post Month.  See what memories it conjures up of my life here in San Sebastián.

A Countryside Wedding

You're invited to a wedding. A charter bus carries you from the beachfront of San Sebastián and drops you off in...Bidania. A tiny village in the Gipuzkoan countryside. The sun is shining, it's a lovely 75 degrees, and you walk into the town's church to find an enormous, beautiful gold plated altar. The building is full of friends, as well as a few stragglers from the town who seem to have come to take the Eucharist.

Doesn't get any more beautiful....

The happy couple, the perfect day, all with the backdrop of paradise.

A walk up a hill, past farmhouses, gardens, and chickens, and you arrive at an old villa-turned-hotel. Each guest is seated according to a chart made of wood, with each table taking the name of a nearby village. Your own wooden spoon carries an engraving of your name.

But before dinner, there's champagne, endlessly refilled into your glass, and plates of designer pintxos. Each of which I ate at least two, while talking Basque politics and other pleasantries.

The groom gives a homerun of a speech, after feigning nervousness.

The dinner is also a homerun...seared scallops with strips of iberian fat over potato puree.

Lamb. And roasted peaches with butter crumbs and sweet cheesy cream.

A sweet ending (followed, of course, by gintonics and dancing the night away in the open country air). A perfect day. And a new couple whom I wish only the best! Here's to you, Jon + Nicole!

Gaua Gauekoentzat

Joxemiel Barandiaran was a Basque ethnographer and priest, born in Ataun, the village where we are spending the summer.  He is credited with re-discovering and preserving many of the traditions of these hills and even has a museum in San Gregorio (the second neighborhood of Ataun).  Last night was a special celebration of him and the legends that he helped bring back to the collective memory.

The celebration consisted of a 3km walk, part at dusk and part at nightfall, beginning in the old home/mill where the museum is housed.  Before beginning, there was chorizo, bread and cider for all.  Our neighbor/friend/godsend Tere took us around back to meet the breadmaker and check out the oven.

Then the walk began, 500 people, young, old, man, women and children walking more or less in single file down a narrow country road. Every so often, we'd stop for a sighting of some mythological creature.  In a clearing, we were held up as an old Basque man staggered down from the woods with a basket heavy from apples. He explained they were for the river witches, or lamiak in Basque, to curry favor with the beautiful web-footed women.

Then, a while down the path, the jentilak, giant mountain dwellers that coexisted (according to legend) with the Basques, came down to join us on the trek. We stopped to talk with Martin Txiki, the sneaky little guy who stole all the mountain giants' secrets (along with their wheat).

Then, the fall of night. Everyone had torches as we walked along the sometimes perilous rocky trail that runs alongside the creek.  Can't tell you how many times the word 'lawsuit' went through my head. America, why don't you let us do cool stuff like this anymore?

Then a stop with a group of witches, dancing around the fire and maltreating a young girl tied to a tree. ❤.

C. said that this was the most special thing...that it by far beat any expensive Baptist Christmas extravaganza he'd ever attended. And he's right...there was something beautiful about the young people mixing with the old. Everyone coming together to appreciate and remember their roots, celebrating legends that still live on, legends that still seem plausible when set against dark, misty mountains.

Kaixo, Ataun

This July we will live in Ataun, aka paradise, aka Garden of Eden, aka Goeirri profundo, aka Andoni Munduate's village. We pulled into our new country abode yesterday evening, with the cows, sheep and the people staring at the crazy American family on bike.

Last night we had dinner in the local tavern. People here are very Basque, and Spanish doesn't come out of their mouths very naturally. There we were speaking English, with everyone staring...little B started singing a popular song just to make sure everyone was aware of our presence. 

On the way out, an old man called after her (in Basque): "hey, blondie, goodbye!" She turned to him, hesitated for a millisecond, and said (with a whole lot of attitude, and in basque, which she later translated for us) "What did you say??"  The old man said "Ala!" (which is an expression of great surprise), the teenage boys next to us shut their mouths, and we beamed with pride.

This town is so small that the market is in the bread store, and there is a butcher but no fish monger (big deal here). Our new apartment is the apartment of the parish, so there are relics, priests garments, and books everywhere. We have a little table on the balcony where we take our meals, and today we rustled up som piquillo peppers, slow cooked with garlic and olive oil, lentils, hardboiled eggs, potatoes, bread, and wine.

This afternoon we were invited to watch a local race in which a horse, a biker, and a runner race up the highest hill in the town to see who wins. However, we have some unfinished business to attend to in town, not to mention the opening of the Loaf. San Sebastián calls...