Train strikes mean sitting on the floor, sometimes in a trashcan, in the baggage car.
Bored.
Intrigued.
DELIGHTED.
Everyone loves a slinky... thanks mom!
Ever wondered what the luggage of six teaching assistants looks like in front of a fountain in Bayonne? Wonder no longer.
BEEEACH! Anglet to be exact and that would be the Atlantic Ocean.
LIGHTHOUSE viewed from Anglet.
SAME LIGHTHOUSE as viewed from Biarrtiz.
Biarritz!
Pebbles instead of sand. Not sure if I'm a fan or not. On one hand pebbles seem to be less messy, less sticky on you, but on the other they can can huuuuuurt when you're walking on them or when the Atlantic Ocean beats you up on them.
I know, lame. But I kept it because look how much more tan I am than Laura!
Food?
Spot the American.
Ridiculous chocolate drink in Bayonne. I'm not the biggest fan, but I can see the appeal. Not too hot; extra chocolate-y; shaken, not stirred.
Right before Laura left us.
A few hours before our train, we finally get around to seeing a bit of Bayonne.
Cathedral.
AZALEAS!!! It's officially spring now.
So you know the train strike? This is what the conductors do while they're striking. BBQ in front of the Mayor's.
I'm holding a postcard in the place that the postcard depicts. AWESOME, right?
Deeelicious cherry cake/pastry thing that was only made possible through Ben's indecision.
Cloister. Inferior to the one in Toulouse except for these neat designs.
On the ramparts it is dangerous to sit facing either direction. It is also dangerous to pirouette.
Ham. Hamhamham.
This is where they dry the ham. On beds of salt.
