“There are only 2 ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Albert Einstein
It is 8 in the morning. The church bells just chimed the hour. The sky is gray, but not so gray as to blend the horizon into the sea. Gentle waves lap the beach. Fishing boats rock softly in the small harbor. Seagulls call. The red tiled roofs of the small village of Lekeitio roll down to the promenade like old carpet. This is the perfect place to stay in the Pays Basque, Euskara, Vizcaya.
The Basque people are the oldest indigenous people of Europe. Their culture, customs and language, Euskadi, are completely distinct. There are 4 Basque provinces in Spain and 3 in France.
There is no ink blue enough to describe the color of the sea, no dream elusive enough to capture the mirage of the Pyrenees. There is something deeply healing about this corner of the world that I engaged with profoundly.
Though I’d heard many stories about the clandestine nature of the Basque people I found a down to earth enthusiasm for their culture and an uncomplicated passion they wanted to share no matter how modest the occasion. They are proud of their heritage and I soon understood their desire for independence after conversing with a couple I met while seated at one of the many waterside restaurant/bars that line the colorful marina.
I found a tranquil place to stay by the sea, Aisia Hotel, built on the ruins of the former Ubarren Palace, the home of Zita, the last empress of the Austro-Hungarian empire, during her exile in Lekeitio. The room was 69 euros for the night which included taxes, use of their thalossotherapy facilities and a full buffet breakfast.
Though Euskadi is the language of the Basques, Spanish and English are spoken by almost everyone. At the hotel the staff imbued a spirit of welcome.
