On Wednesday, we hopped in the car and headed for the border, arriving two hours later in Biarritz.
Trying out the bed in the Tulip Inn.
Three happy tourists.
There were some truly spectacular views.
Standing in the shadows.
Looking for a place to eat.
I think Marga and I might buy this house.
A small secluded beach.
Some Catholic statue.
A bird picks on the Virgin Mary.
But God sends down some henchmen to beat up on him.
Some strange rock structures.
My mother takes in some rays.
My parents found and snapped this sand artist.
La Grande Plage.
A sign for dogs to do their business. W-Chien
This guy was walking in front of us with one hand on each butt cheek. Man, the French are weird!
A panorama of Biarritz’s coastline.
We liked these piglet corkscrews and musical teaspoons.
Some odd bovine trinkets in the same shop window.
This is the hotel we meant to get.
My father lying by the hotel pool. I like the composition of this shot.
Having a glass of wine.
Looking to a square.
The casino. (There really is a C there!)
Having dinner at a restaurant called “Tikia” in the central plaza.
Is that a snail in your mouth?
My father’s meal came with a big stand.
On the beach in the south of France.
The waves were nice and big. My father and I went into the water.
The manly men return from conquering the waves.
Paying for lunch on Thursday.
My parent’s loved their Creme Brulée a l’Orange.
Marga and I were the more mature couple.