As a young man, the very old man smiling at us and slurring his words surfed and waited tables in a little fishing village called Getaria, centuries ago, it seemed. Getaria is where Hollywood and I would end up lunching like kings only days later. But that morning, 10 or 11 am, fresh off the airplane, the former surfer-waiter sat drinking coffee and reminiscing with an old friend, a more lucid man wearing a txapela, his cane leaning against the silver metal table of our hotel's outdoor cafe. He knew the story his surfer-waiter friend was struggling to impart to us.
He'd heard it before. The one where General Franco came to Getaria on one of his dictatorial visits to the Basque Country. Sometime in the 40's or 50's.
"He is saying that he gave Franco the part of the fish with the most bones," the lucid one laughed, then said of his friend, under his breath, "He is hallucinating a bit, but it's true."
He continues, paraphrasing:
"And then, he put a teaspoon of salt in Franco's wine."
We laughed politely, wondering if they weren't exaggerating. Wincing when they referenced Guernica, the Basque village bombed all to hell by Franco during the Civil War that brought him to power and the subject of Picasso's famous painting. Until that moment, I didn't know that men in the Basque Country actually wore those hats.
Txapelas are those beret-type hats you always see ETA members rocking on Interpol "Wanted" posters in the airport...or Frenchmen in classic French films. Could've sworn there was a picture somewhere of Picasso wearing one, and find it fitting, the txapela's linguistic proximity to the French chapeau.
The rest of the trip was spent in search of the perfect "Man Wearing Txapela" shot. Loved this guy. He agreed to having his photo taken and was so cool about how damn cool it came out. When we showed it to him he said, "Well, it looks like me", which is even cooler in Spanish: "Bueno... como soy".
Imagine these men in 1975, nearly middle aged, taking their txapelas out of boxes hidden away in attics, dusting them off, and donning them proudly in the streets for the first time.
There is something about the attainment of freedom that's profoundly relatable, even if one simply gestures towards it, like with the tip of a hat.
There's lots to say about the Basque Country. The food, the architecture, the Guggenheim, which I'll unfold in a series of photo posts over the next few days.
He'd heard it before. The one where General Franco came to Getaria on one of his dictatorial visits to the Basque Country. Sometime in the 40's or 50's.
"He is saying that he gave Franco the part of the fish with the most bones," the lucid one laughed, then said of his friend, under his breath, "He is hallucinating a bit, but it's true."
He continues, paraphrasing:
"And then, he put a teaspoon of salt in Franco's wine."
We laughed politely, wondering if they weren't exaggerating. Wincing when they referenced Guernica, the Basque village bombed all to hell by Franco during the Civil War that brought him to power and the subject of Picasso's famous painting. Until that moment, I didn't know that men in the Basque Country actually wore those hats.
Txapelas are those beret-type hats you always see ETA members rocking on Interpol "Wanted" posters in the airport...or Frenchmen in classic French films. Could've sworn there was a picture somewhere of Picasso wearing one, and find it fitting, the txapela's linguistic proximity to the French chapeau.
The rest of the trip was spent in search of the perfect "Man Wearing Txapela" shot. Loved this guy. He agreed to having his photo taken and was so cool about how damn cool it came out. When we showed it to him he said, "Well, it looks like me", which is even cooler in Spanish: "Bueno... como soy".
Imagine these men in 1975, nearly middle aged, taking their txapelas out of boxes hidden away in attics, dusting them off, and donning them proudly in the streets for the first time.
There is something about the attainment of freedom that's profoundly relatable, even if one simply gestures towards it, like with the tip of a hat.
There's lots to say about the Basque Country. The food, the architecture, the Guggenheim, which I'll unfold in a series of photo posts over the next few days.
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