Peoples of the Earth: Basques

Running along the Spanish shores of the Bay of Biscay and extending north to Bayonne in France is a hilly, luxuriant country. The prosperous, rugged people who live there call it Euzkadi-the ancient homeland of Euskaldunak. Although they are subject to the laws either of Spain or France, the Basques see themselves as a race apart; and to Euzkadi they give their real allegiance.

There's an amazing series of volumes called Peoples of the Earth, which I have alluded to before on the blog, published in the early 1970s.  They chronicle a large amount of the curious people groups across the globe, with photos, sketches and text, and the best part is they do so in a fairly opinionated and sometimes a bit bigoted manner. Makes for good reading.

Every time I'm around these volumes, I always pick up and re-read the Basque section. It's full of interesting facts, misspellings, and generalizations--and I love it.  I wanted to post a few of the photos, with their original descriptions, and some of what I found interesting.  If I ever get around to it, I'll make a post on the predictions Our Dear Author made on the years 2000, as well (naked Utopias, anyone?).

The separatism of the Basques persists partly because they live in wild hill country far from the swim of French or Spanish life.

Abbé Lahetjuzan proved in the 18th century that Adam and Eve were the first Basques. And according to a friend of mine, they were from Ataun. Can you blame this little culture, then, for its oversized pride?

One of the first historical references to Basques is from 1120, when chronicler Giraldus Cambrensis says they are a people "thirsty for blood and ferocious as the wild beast with which they live."

The Basques are famous wine-makers. A man at work has a skin of wine with him. The occasional swig makes the day go better.

This is the truth; I still notice when, around 9 in the morning, I am taking a café in a small tavern by my house and a man pulls a stool up to the bar and orders a small glass of wine. Why not? It does make the day go better.

The women rarely leave the isolated homesteads but in decision-making they carry as much weight as the men.

This isolated homestead, the baserri, really is and was the backbone of the family unit, at least in rural areas. Families were once named after the houses, not vice-versa. The neighborhoods into which some of these houses are grouped are called auzoa, a word that was new to me when we lived this past summer in the village.  As the book states "personal contacts beyond the auzoa are rare and when they exist often formal, respectful, cold and slightly tinged with suspicion." OH, so that's what that look was when we had beer and croquetas in the village tavern.

In the ancient city of Pamplona a man competing in a traditional contest raises a stone that weighs 247 pounds. Their athletic dances here performed in Pamplona, owe nothing to the culture of France or Spain. The Basques are a race apart. Basques gamble heavily on contests like this ram fight, which is a favorite spectacle in the port of San Sebastián.

Sports are one of the most beloved pasttimes with Basques, and they sure have some crazy ones. They talk about these stone lifting and tree trunk-chopping contests as if they were normal, because for the Basques, they are. Provincial, but normal.

Basques are fine dancers. In the plaza of an old Basque town in the Pyrenees, enthusiasts dance on after dusk.

This makes me want to create a modern day version of this essay...what would it include? Pintxo pote, exquisite middle-aged Basque women strolling La Concha in clothes from Zara? Basques, those fine dancers, tearing it up in Ezpala?

Is there any group of peoples as interesting as the Basques? Appalachians? Bretons? Leave me a recommendation and I'll look them up while I am around this encylopedias, and maybe even post a pic or two.

A Copa Con...Josu Casal

Time for the second installment of my new Tuesday series, "A Copa Con..."  As many of you know, last week was San Sebastián's biggest day of the year, el Día de San Sebastián, aka La Tamborrada. As a few of you know, I participated firsthand in this 24-hr drumfest, which kicks off the night of the 19th and lasts until midnight the next day. Non-stop drumming can be heard at any hour, throughout the entire city. It's incredible.

For this reason, and more, I wanted to have a chat with a key player in the festivities, Josu Casal. He is what they call "Barril Mayor", a co-director of a tamborrada, or group of drummers. Each tamborrada (and there are at least a hundred) has a Barril Mayor and the Tambor Mayor, the higher-up. Josu's day job has nothing on his role directing dozens of amateurs into playing beautiful music in various states of soberness in front of the most important gastronomic societies in the world, on the most important day in San Sebastián. So we sat down at the batzoki for a beer.

What's your role in San Sebastián Day?

I co-directed two tamborradas, Lurgorri and El Círculo Riojana. I got home at 7:30 am [after the first] and woke up at 1pm for the other.  I've directed since 2005, but I've been in the tamborrada since I was little.

How does one become 'barril (or tambor) mayor'?

They asked me if I wanted to. Normally, when someone leaves someone else takes their place. And when the 'tambor mayor' leaves, the 'barril mayor' takes his place. It's a chain. But when you're 'tambor mayor' and you leave, you don't ever come back. You leave for good.

Your job is direct the Tamborrada. Everyone has to behave, stay in line...you have to improvise a lot. If another tamborrada crosses your path, you have to know if they are newer or older than yours. If they're senior, you have to be silent. If they're newer, you keep playing and they stop.

What's the hardest part of directing in the Tamborrada?

That everyone behaves themselves. It's a mess. The most important is that when you go to a sociedad, you have to respect the sociedad. You go, you play, and you're well-behaved.

Did you have to practice?

No, now no. At first, yes, when I began. It's hard...people think it's easy, but it's difficult. When you mark the beat (done with a big stick or cardboard knife), you have to mark it before the people play. You always have to go a bit before the music, a tenth of a second before.

How did we do?

It was the first year...there were a lot of new people. Many of you had never been in the Tamborrada, but really good, it was really good. Better than what I thought. The first practice I came and said "Me cago en..."

Not that I wanted it or missed it, but I expected a lot more drunkenness.

We didn't drink much. Maybe it's because of the recession [laughs]. Normally the sociedades give out a lot of champagne, but this year everyone was complaining, "We're not drinking." But you have to know the trick-carrying a flask, of whiskey or something.

What did you eat on San Sebastián day?

On the eve, I ate dinner in Restaurante Aratz. Lobster, cígalas (european crayfish), turbot, but...baby eels no. A little plate is 90 euros. They're too expensive for what they are. Plus, they're filling. And the day of, patatas a la riojana, and not much more. I was hungover.

The state of Basque cuisine?

Traditional Basque cuisine is degenerating a bit.  We need to defend it, because we are losing it.

What would you never have change about Basque culture/life?

The tamborrada.  It's sacred. I always take my vacation time around the tamborrada, both before and after. Because it's a mess...the week before, when practice ends, you have a beer, and sometimes you end up getting home at 4am. You have to prepare your liver...

What would you change about Basque people or culture if you could?

Nothing. Now that we've "finished" with the terrorism, I think we're good. Maybe...the image that Spanish people have of Basques.

Have any questions for Josu or me? Leave them in the comments section.

365 Tuesdays

The beginning of winter is marked by the arrival of chestnuts to the Plaza de Gipuzkoa. They're sold from a tiny hut in each corner of the square.  What better garnish to a wintry, cold and cloudy afternoon than charred chestnuts  in a newspaper cone? Taste of the season.

Part of 365cities project.

PS, this is the last 365 entry! Stay tuned for my next weekly series. #mystery

365 Tuesdays

On Santo Tomas, which was this past Friday, San Sebastián fills with the smell of frying pork.  Txistorra, a sausage with flavors of garlic and paprika, is a must-eat. It's wrapped in a talo, a type of crepe/tortita/tortilla made with cornflour. The best are in the Plaza de Gipuzkoa, from the Ataun booth. (I'm biased).

Part of 365cities project.

Midnight in the Village : Random #8

The sweet, slow rhythm of village life. The buildup to one night in July, viewed with anticipation by the village children, the elders, and especially the bakery/shop attendant, who lives a double life as a forest-residing witch. Well into the night, we walked with a couple hundred of the other residents through the forests, where we ran into mermaids, mountain people, sneaky Basque peasants and witches.

It was nearly midnight when we finished, and no one was tired. Everyone gathered in the village square, where cider was passed and tables were laden with marmitako and tortilla for all.

Photo #10,379 of 11,309 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.