MCDONALDS, DUNES, AND DAY DRINKING

We woke up on Wednesday morning in France and packed up to hit the road to Bordeaux, our stopping point for the long trip to Spain.  We went downstairs at the hotel because they offered a complimentary breakfast buffet that we were grossly underdressed for.  Everyone looked well put together and proper, almost to the point of looking uptight.  Meanwhile, here we were looking exactly like what we were: a scruffy bunch of band dudes who just woke up for free food.  They had Nutella and fresh croissants so I didn’t give a shit.

                It was a really long drive. I got some reading done, but I mostly tried to sleep in the van.  The Sprinter we have is great for short drives where you are wide awake, however if it’s a long drive and you are hoping to get some sleep there is in fact not one single comfortable position.  The seats are hard and don’t recline, the headrests are awkward, and the air conditioning doesn’t circulate well in the back so it can get kind of stuffy.  I realize I am totally bitching about some first world problems and shit, but when you spend as much time traveling as we do, being able to sleep in the van is important. 

                We finally arrive in Bordeaux that night and check into a hotel called the Quick Palace.  Now that sounds sketchy as hell, but it wasn’t that bad.  No hourly rates here.  The rooms were very small and had very few amenities.  In fact, the bathrooms were comical.  The toilet and sink were in the shower.  That’s right.  They were IN the shower.  The whole bathroom was a tiny closet that had a waterproof seal on the door, a drain on the floor, and a shower head that just sprayed everything.  It was really odd to use.

                After check in we went to a grocery store to get some wine since it’s so cheap here.  Besides, how often can I say I get to drink Bordeaux in Bordeaux?  I don’t know if it’s because it’s local or because everyone drinks wine all the time, but wine is ridiculously cheap here!  Whit and I bought some bottles that averaged about 4 euros, but the most expensive we saw at the shop were still only 8.  After stocking up on drinks we split up to find cheap food.  Marco really wanted KFC because they don’t have that in Italy.  Ryan went with him and the rest of us went to McDonald’s because all the good places to eat had already closed.  On a side note, it’s easy to lose track of time here. It doesn’t get dark until ten at night, so when it feels like five or six it’s usually nine.  I actually really like it.  One of my favorite parts of summer back home is the extra hours of daylight.  Anyway, at McDonald’s they have one menu item specifically for France and it’s the McBaguette.  It is two oval hamburger patties with Swiss cheese, lettuce, and course mustard on a baguette.  It was surprisingly good.  Bj ate his Le Big Mac and then went over to KFC to get a bag of fried chicken because he was still hungry.  Afterwards, we all went back to the hotel to drink and relax after a long day of being cooped up in the van.

                The next morning we all met downstairs to finish the trip to Spain.  Bj was still snacking on cold chicken from the night before.  Marco suggested we go to the Dune du Pyla, which is the largest sand dune in Europe and it wasn’t too far out of the way.  Now I’ve seen some sand dunes before. But this thing was no joke.  You can see it towering over the tree line from miles away.  One side is so steep that they have plastic stairs and ropes to get you to the top and then the dune STILL keeps going up from there.  We make it to the top (which sucked in jeans and cowboy boots) and then someone had the bright idea to go all the way down to the other side where the ocean was.  I knew it was going to end badly but I went figuring that I could use the exercise.  I didn’t think the other guys really knew what they were in for on the walk back up.  We finally made it to the bottom where the beach looks out over the Bay of Biscay.  Most tourists don’t come down to the shore and now I know why.  I turned around to look at the dune and you couldn’t even see the top.

                We started back up to the top.  For every step up you took, you would slide down about half of that making progress extremely slow growing and frustrating.  My back hurt, my legs hurt, and I was sweating profusely. It was a really good workout I have to say.  Marco told me I should take off my boots so it would be easier.  I would be less bogged down by the sand.  I told him that I was an American and would never accept defeat and surrender my boots to a French sand dune.  Plus I didn’t want to spend the rest of the days drive with sand between my toes.  When we got two thirds of the way up I looked back and saw Bj sitting in the sand.  He had taken off his shirt and was obviously struggling. We waited and he finally made it up the dune, but we are all pretty sure now that he had some sort of heart attack.  Ryan was with him and said that Bj started to panic when his heart began beating oddly and his left arm started to shake and go numb.  He did survive though and probably won’t have fried chicken for breakfast again anytime soon.  It’s probably for the best.

                The hike up the dune wore me out so I was able to get some sleep in the van that day.  As we drove into Spain the scenery was unreal.  Marco assured us that this was not typical of the rest of Spain.  The mountainous northwest region looks more like Austria or Switzerland according to him and I have to say it was amazing, especially looking out and seeing rocky cliffs jut out over the ocean.

                The little town we played was called Lierganes and it was an old touristy Spanish town with beautiful architecture and mountainous scenery.  We were playing a place called Los Picos Whisky Bar and it was a cool spot.  It was a small dark hole in the wall with a great stage and PA system.  We had some beers, sound checked, and then the promoter and his friend took us to an Italian place around the corner.  I had a caffeine headache all day (which was a lot of fun while climbing that dune) so I got an espresso.  We had more beers and I got a caprese salad that kind of sucked.  I should have ordered the pizza.  The guy waiting on us was the owner I think and he talked shit to us and joked around the whole time.  He didn’t speak any English, but he was hysterical and took great enjoyment from fucking with us.  I’m always am really amazing by anyone who has personality to still be funny even with a language barrier in the way.  After dinner he brought some really delicious gelato.  The tiramisu was the biggest hit at the table, but I think his plain vanilla was my favorite.

                We took pictures with the owner and headed back to the club.  Out front was a bunch of people waiting for the show and the inside was packed too.  We played great and the crowd was still older than us, but not as old as previous nights.  Most people were in the 30 to 40 range and they seemed less uptight than the German crowds we had seen. They were livelier and danced more.  It was a really great feeling.  We like playing for the more enthusiastic crowds since that’s what we are more used to back home.

                Afterwards we stuck around and made new friends.  I made friends with an English guy named Andrew DouGall who owns the microbrewery in town.  He was really cool and bought me some of his beers to try.  He then gave me his card and said to come by the next morning for a brewery tour if we wanted. 

                Our hotel was in the next town over or maybe a separate part of town, but still just as beautiful.  I got up early and walked around the picturesque village and did some running whenever some good stretches of sidewalk became present and periodically took pictures.  Hotels here have actual keys instead of key cards like I’m used to so I of course forgot it when I left and locked myself out.  The lady at the desk let me in, but it was awkward because she hadn’t seen me leave and neither of us could understand the other. 

                The rest of the guys finally woke up and we stopped by the brewery on our way out of town.  All the employees in this tiny brewery were super cool and they immediately started pouring us beers.  Then they made the mistake of telling us we could just pour what we wanted.  They had a Pale ale that I really liked so I helped myself to quite a bit of it.  I haven’t had any Pale ale since I’ve been here to Europe.  It is a very English and American thing.  Apparently this part of the world doesn’t care for such hoppy beers.             

                By noon we were pretty well wrecked.  It’s times like these when I realize how different my life is.  Here it is lunch time on a Friday when most everyone I know in America would be hard at work and here I am drinking for free on a private brew tour in Spain while getting paid to play music.  I am very thankful things have turned out this way and that I am as fortunate as I am.  I may not be worthy of it, but I certainly appreciate it.