The Magic of Casa Julian in Tolosa.
As you wander through the cobbled streets of Tolosa, a charming Basque town nestled in the verdant Oria Valley, you'll find an unassuming gem that has been serving gastronomic delights for over six decades: Casa Julian. Established in 1954 by Julian Arrieta, this family-run steakhouse has become legendary among steak connoisseurs and food enthusiasts alike.
Tolosa lies about 30 minutes south of the foody capital & coastal city of San Sebastián, easily reachable by train or bus. But it's not just the ease of access that draws you to this enchanted town; it's the magnetic allure of the famed Casa Julian. Stepping into the restaurant feels like entering a time capsule, with its rustic stone walls, smoky aroma, and the heartwarming sight of the family tending to the grill. The menu may be simple, but it has been perfected over generations. The pièce de résistance, of course, is the Txuleta, a succulent, bone-in ribeye steak cooked to perfection on an open wood-fired grill. The dining experience is rounded out with traditional sides, such as roasted piquillo peppers, fresh salad, and crusty bread, all paired impeccably with local Basque wines.
As you savour each bite of the heavenly steak, soaking in the convivial atmosphere and animated conversations, you'll be struck by the genuine warmth and passion of the family who keeps Casa Julian's culinary legacy alive. Matías Gorrotxategi, Julian's son, now helms the grill, while his sister, Pilar, tends to guests with a heartening smile. The unpretentious ambiance, punctuated by the sound of sizzling steaks and the clinking of wine glasses, is nothing short of intoxicating.
Once you've basked in the glow of Casa Julian's culinary wonders, it's time to explore Tolosa and let the sumptuous meal settle. The town's picturesque streets and plazas provide the perfect backdrop for a leisurely post-meal stroll. As you amble along the Oria River, make your way to the 13th-century Church of Santa Maria, a stunning example of Basque Gothic architecture. Continue to the colourful Plaza de Euskal Herria, where weekly markets and vibrant cultural events breathe life into the heart of the town.
Your enchanting walking tour of Tolosa would not be complete without indulging in the town's famous sweets. Pop into a local pastelería to sample the delectable Xaxus, almond-based pastries that are the pride of the town. As you relish these sweet treats, you'll find yourself reflecting on the delightful marriage of tradition and culinary prowess that defines both Casa Julian and the charming town of Tolosa. The magic of this Basque haven will leave an indelible mark on your heart, beckoning you to return to its enchanting streets & alleyways time and time again.
And now to walk it off!
PINTXOS, NOT TAPAS...
I am delighted to share that we are here and enjoying the Basque Country of Northwest Spain. After leaving Andorra's small but beautiful Principality a few days ago, we made our way closer to the Atlantic coast. We decided to settle just a few kilometres from San Sebastien.
Today we spend a little time on traditional food. And, what goes better with local, traditional food than conventional, local beer and wine. So, this post is all about describing & discussing the beloved local tradition of Pintxos - a Basque version of tapas that are as delicious as they are unique.
The origins of Pintxos can be traced back to the Basque Country, where they have been a staple of the local cuisine for generations. "pintxo" means "spike" in Basque and refers to the toothpick that holds the ingredients together. These small bites are often served on a slice of bread and come in various flavours and combinations, such as grilled octopus & prawns, cured meats, olives, anchovies or cheese.
What makes Pintxos so unique is the way they are served. You can find them displayed on the counters of local bars, and diners are encouraged to help themselves to their favourites. The toothpicks are used to track how many Pintxos you've eaten, and you pay at the end of the meal based on how many toothpicks you've accumulated. It's a fun and interactive way to enjoy a meal with friends, and the local Basque ingredients make it even more special.
While tapas can be found throughout Spain, Pintxos is a unique and essential part of the Basque culinary experience. The flavours and ingredients reflect the regional culture, and the tradition of sharing food and conversation with friends is deeply ingrained in the local way of life. So if you find yourself exploring the Basque Country, be sure to indulge in the local tradition of Pintxos. Your taste buds will thank you, and you'll gain a new appreciation for the joy of small bites and big flavours. Cheers to good food and great adventures! I would be remiss if I didn't go on now to describe the local libations, as they are just as important to the culinary experience.
The Basque Country is famous for its Txakoli wine, a slightly sparkling white wine produced exclusively in the region. It's crisp and refreshing, with a light acidity that pairs perfectly with Pintxos. In recent years, the local winemakers have also started producing red wines and rosés, but Txakoli remains the most popular and iconic Basque wine.
If you're not a wine fan, fear not - the Basque Country also has a thriving craft beer scene. The local brews are often made with regional ingredients, such as hops from the nearby Pyrenees mountains. The most popular beer in the region is called Keler, a refreshing lager that pairs well with the bold flavours of Pintxos. But if you're feeling adventurous, try a local specialty like Basqueland Brewing or Laugar Brewery.
What makes Basque wine and beer so special is how they reflect the local culture and traditions. The Txakoli grapes are grown on terraced vineyards that have been used for hundreds of years, and the local breweries use traditional methods to create unique and flavorful beers. Drinking and dining in the Basque Country are not just about the taste - it's a way to connect with the local community and experience the region's rich history and culture. So raise a glass of Txakoli or Keler and toast to the joy of sharing good food and great company.
Thanks for stopping by, and I hope to read your comments if you have enjoyed the food on show.
Live well & Salud!
M
p.s. The following curated images were captured with both the Leica SL2-S and Q2.
CHATEAU LA COSTE IN MONOCHROME, A PHOTO ESSAY.
Other than these words, An absolutely huge thank you to our new friend Anna for suggesting we visit the château. We are in Anna’s debt! There are no more words.
The Splendor of the Mundane: A Modern-Day Philosopher's Musings.
As I sit here, sipping my morning coffee, nibbling my pain au chocolat and gazing through the window, I ponder the nature of life's little wonders. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the delicate dance of leaves rustling in the wind, the melodic chatter of birds engaged in their morning rituals – these seemingly trivial moments have the potential to evoke profound gratitude and a sense of connectedness to the world around us.
In our fast-paced, technology-driven society, it is all too easy to become consumed by our own ambitions and the ceaseless pursuit of progress. We strive for grand achievements and seek to etch our names in the annals of history, often overlooking the beauty that lies hidden in the mundane. But there is something to be said for slowing down and taking the time to truly observe and appreciate the subtleties of existence.
It is no coincidence that the most revered philosophers in history have often emphasized the importance of gratitude and appreciation for the small, everyday wonders of life. Stoicism, for example, teaches us to cultivate inner peace by being present in the moment and accepting life's natural ebb and flow. Similarly, the ancient Chinese philosophy of Taoism encourages us to align ourselves with the natural rhythms of the world and to find harmony in life's simplest pleasures.
So, how can we, as modern-day philosophers, cultivate an attitude
I know, for those who know me, you are thinking this is rich. A man who likes and or enjoys the company of less people on this planet than that of a full rugby team roster. But since I now have lots of time to sit in the Provençal sun, I tend to muse over the future and how to best wander through that time and space. I recently downloaded an app that has predicted my life span. It seems that I have “approximately” 21 years, 101 days, 4 hours, 40 minutes and 50 seconds to go. Since brevity is of the essence I have decided through hours of deep reflection to attempt the following.
Cultivate mindfulness: Being present in the moment is essential to noticing and appreciating life's subtle gifts. By practicing mindfulness, we can develop the ability to focus on our immediate experiences, rather than being preoccupied with our anxieties, ambitions, or regrets. Engaging in meditation or simply taking a few moments throughout the day to focus on our breath can help us develop a deeper connection with the present moment and the world around us.
Embrace simplicity: In a world where consumerism and excess often reign supreme, it is important to remind ourselves of the value of simplicity. By deliberately choosing to live with less, we can create space in our lives for the things that truly matter. This may involve decluttering our physical spaces, minimizing our digital distractions, or reevaluating our commitments to ensure that we are dedicating our time and energy to pursuits that align with our values and bring us genuine fulfillment.
Cultivate maximum and undeterred curiosity: Approaching the world with a sense of curiosity and wonder can open our eyes to the beauty that lies hidden in the seemingly ordinary. Make a conscious effort to ask questions, explore new ideas, and challenge your own assumptions about the world. This spirit of inquiry can help us develop a greater appreciation for the interconnectedness of all things and the myriad ways in which the world continually surprises.
I must go. The church bells are ringing and it seems it is already 10 a.m.. In life as it is in Provence, our focus should be on the little things!
Live Well.
M.
Please leave your thoughts or comments below. I love to hear from you.
All of the images in this blog were taken with the Leica Q2 Ghost.
Murder and a Pint!
Prologue.
I’m not normally one to partake in a “busman’s holiday”. Before you ask, I fall into the category of those who once investigated these matters, not committed them! Just thought I’d clear that one up right out of the gate.
Today, we are exploring the Historic Pubs of East London's Jack the Ripper Era. If you're a fan of history, true crime, and a good pint, then you'll love exploring the historic pubs of East London. The notorious serial killer terrorized the area in the late 1880s, and visiting the pubs where he and his victims may have frequented adds an eerie and intriguing layer to your visit in this now vibrant part of the city.
Jack the Ripper is the nickname given to an unidentified serial killer who was active in the Whitechapel area of East London between 1888 and 1891. The name "Jack the Ripper" originated from a letter written by someone claiming to be the murderer that was published at the time. The letter was addressed to the Central News Agency and signed "Jack the Ripper."
Jack the Ripper is believed to have murdered at least five women, all of whom were sex trade workers, in a brutal and gruesome manner. The murders took place between August and November of 1888, and the victims were Mary Ann Nicholls, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, and Mary Jane Kelly. The murders were never solved, and the identity of Jack the Ripper remains one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in criminal history.
Pubs to Visit on Your Jack the Ripper Pub Crawl
Ten Bells: This historic pub, located on Commercial Street, dates back to the 1700s and is thought to have been a favorite of Jack the Ripper's victims. Today, it's a popular spot for a pint and a bite to eat, with a menu that features classic pub fare. On tap, you'll find a rotating selection of cask ales and craft beers, as well as a wide selection of wines and spirits. Must-try menu items include the fish and chips, the Ten Bells burger, and the Ploughman's lunch.
The Water Poet: This charming pub, located on Folgate Street, has a long history dating back to the 1600s. It's believed that Jack the Ripper may have spent time here, and today it's a great spot for a drink and a relaxed atmosphere. On tap, you'll find a rotating selection of cask ales and craft beers, as well as a wide selection of wines and spirits. Must-try menu items include the pie of the day, the Water Poet burger, and the sausage roll.
The Princess Alice: This pub, located on Whitechapel Road, is named after the tragic story of the Princess Alice steamboat disaster that took place in the River Thames in 1878. Today, it's a lively spot for a drink and a bite to eat, with a menu that features traditional pub fare. On tap, you'll find a rotating selection of cask ales and craft beers, as well as a wide selection of wines and spirits. Must-try menu items include the Sunday roast, the fish and chips, and the Princess Alice burger.
The Coach and Horses: This historic pub, located on Crispin Street, is thought to have been a favorite of the local working-class population in the late 1800s. Today, it's a charming spot for a drink and a meal, with a menu that features classic pub fare. On tap, you'll find a rotating selection of cask ales and craft beers, as well as a wide selection of wines and spirits. Must-try menu items include the steak and kidney pie, the scotch egg, and the Coach and Horses burger.
The Rose and Crown: This historic pub, located on Houndsditch, has a long history dating back to the 1600s. It's believed that Jack the Ripper may have spent time here, and today it's a great spot for a drink and a relaxed atmosphere. On tap, you'll find a rotating selection of cask ales and craft beers, as well as a wide selection of wines and spirits. Must-try menu items include the pub's famous fish pie, the Ploughman's lunch, and the Rose and Crown burger.
Best Walking Route
To experience all of these historic pubs in one walking tour, start at the Ten Bells on Commercial Street and head southeast on Whitechapel Road until you reach the Princess Alice. From the Princess Alice, head southeast on Whitechapel Road until you reach the Coach and Horses on Crispin Street. Finally, head north on Houndsditch until you reach the Rose and Crown. This route will take you past all of the historic pubs and through the heart of the East End, giving you a glimpse into the history of the area and the time of Jack the Ripper.
Visiting the historic pubs of East London's Jack the Ripper era is a must-do for fans of history and true crime. Not only will you get to experience a piece of London's past, but you'll also get to enjoy a drink and a meal in some of the city's most charming and atmospheric pubs. Go off piste from time to time as well. There are hundreds if not thousands of east end pubs to wander into. So put on your walking shoes, that deerstalker hat you thought you’d never wear and grab a map. Get ready to explore the haunted and fascinating world of Jack the Ripper or if you’re hungry “Jack the Chipper”!
Please leave a comment if you have a moment, I do love to hear from you.
Live Well,
Mark
THE STREETS OF EUROPE.
Where would I be without a camera and the streets? Most often, my travels are a mix of city and village life. I suspect this tried and tested formula has evolved over many years as the most effective way to enjoy my time on the road. The energy required for pounding city streets is substantial; however, the energy necessary to sip Rose' at a cafe in a provencal village might be less of a commitment (or so I've heard).
I am happy to travel or live in any such setting. London, Paris, Rome, and Barcelona are just a few of my favourite things. It always takes a little while for me to feel like a local in any of them, but sooner than later they become home away from home. As a traveller, you will undoubtedly enjoy your stay in any major European city for a few days, weeks, or even longer. The energy of these cities, their people and day-to-day life is intoxicating. Step out of your door regardless of rain or shine, because a day on the continent will rarely disappoint. The aromas of local eateries, bakeries and cheese mongers waft through the air with purpose. If you want peace and tranquillity, get up with the birds. If electricity and mojo is your thing, then go wandering after dark.
Communal spaces in Europe are great places for aspiring photographers: parks, museums, and markets ooze charm and provide the visitor an insight to the lifestyles of locals. Photographically, I always arrive with some compositions in mind. However, I have learned to keep the camera away from my eye until I have studied my surroundings and observed long enough to feel the local vibe.
People are often the subjects of my photography. I love to capture moments between strangers, friends and families. Moments that may have never happened before or may never happen again. Style and presence isn't everything, but it certainly catches my attention. If I am quick enough, the person with both is my camera's order of the day.
Sometimes a cafe can be the best starting place for a photo walk. Also, a glass or two of wine can lower the inhibitions that can hold me back from getting in tight with a subject or composition. However, to be clear, two glasses of wine does not turn me into a paparazzi capable of skulking through people's garbage or hiding in the bushes for the right time to snap the money shot. That's weird, and I suspect "but can't say for sure" the telltale signs of an apprentice sociopath.
Back to Europe and my fondness for its photographic locations and people. This blog is dedicated to my travels and my cameras. Two things that make me content and centered. So many places and things don't, but this has become and will always remain what puts the jam in my donut.
Live well!
Mark.
Please leave a comment if you have time. I love to hear from you!
WALKING DOWN MEMORY LANE.
I must apologize now to those expecting this post to be splashed with the colours of Provence or some other fabulous picturesque destination. This time my journey has taken me back to where I started my career 30 long years ago. This post is a photo essay in retrospect.
The location for this collection of images is Carberry, Manitoba. Carberry is located about a two-hour drive east from Winnipeg, almost slap-bang in the middle of Canada. That may sound like an easy journey by car, but it becomes a little more of a chore when you begin the trip on Vancouver Island, some 2230 kilometres away.
In 1992 I arrived here in Carberry full of enthusiasm and naivety. I had recently sworn an oath to Queen and Country. My first “posting” (job) was to protect and serve the townsfolk and surrounding areas as best as possible. I was well trained and proud of my place in life.
Six months prior, I had never in my wildest dreams thought I would end up here or even that a place like this existed. Halfway through my training, I was told by a superior that I could expect to be working in British Columbia's Okanagan Valley after graduation. I would live the high life in a place known for vast lakes, fantastic skiing and beautiful vineyards.
Surprise, change of plan and Carberry it was. With all the best intentions, my time here started unpredictably. A small town with little going on was my initial impression.
I suppose for you British comedy film buffs out there, my time here started as it did for Sgt. Nicolas Angel in the movie Hot Fuzz. Slow and easy with smatterings of good humour. But, by 2 a.m. the following morning, I was pinned down in a snow bank, taking rifle fire from a farmhouse a short distance North from where I lay.
I won't bore you with the details but suffice to say, it was a long freezing cold night at a tumultuous incident. The outcome has stayed with me vividly all these years.
In fact, thirty years later this work has done its very best to desensitize me in every way imaginable. The challenges and responsibilities build with time and experience. So with many moves & transfers behind me, I thought it may have been the appropriate time to return to where it all began.
I wanted to capture some images of what it has become. But, as you will see as you scroll down, not much has changed, and it seems my memories have been preserved in a time capsule, never buried.
This is a typical prairie town with ordinary prairie townsfolk going about their lives. Some farm. Some work at the potato processing plant. Most drive half-ton trucks and smile at you when you cross paths.
My time was different here. It was a good idea to return. It has helped me to process a few things. It's not the only place I ever worked where the events of better left untold horrors effected me, but it was the first, so it left a mark.
As I wandered from place to place, it struck me that I might not be the only one that may live with life-changing memories related to this town. No more significant was this realisation than when I approached the stone chiseled list of war dead on the cenotaph. A place erected to honour the local men lost in a far-off land. So many from such a small town. Families were impacted forever by their loss. Prairie towns suffered hugely throughout both world wars. Young, strong men lost, never to return to their families again. In fact it is less than 10 minutes by car from here that 30,000 Commonwealth soldiers were trained for trench warfare throughout WWI. Camp Hughes was at one time the 2nd biggest place by population in this province behind the city of Winnipeg. Still today, trenches can be seen dotted on the horizons of ranch land west of town.
My journey has ended literally with a cathartic walk down memory lane. But, I am better for it and thankful for the opportunity. This place laid the foundations for an unbelievably fulfilling and exciting career. I have worked all over this country with some exceptional people. I came here thinking Carberry stole my innocence and it owed me something as a result. Now I realize, I owe Carberry.
Live well!
Mark.
Images captured with the Leica M10-R.
As always, please leave a comment if you have time. I enjoy hearing from you!
I HAD A SNEAKY FEELING I WOULD END UP IN AN ASYLUM ONE DAY.
Rather than self-medicate, because we all know that's not ok! I decided to go and see what life in an asylum was all about. Most of you are now thinking to yourself; it's long overdue. Well, hold on a minute, in my former life, I had to visit these facilities somewhat often to speak to those who may have done something naughty to someone else. But my adventure today is not one of those asylums for “mischievous” folk. This one is in Saint-Remy-de-Provence, and it was home to Vincent van Gogh for quite some time. Vincent suffered with his mental health (thus the missing ear), mainly due to the underlying problems that were exacerbated by a shit ton of Absinthe consumption.
Absinthe was, to most, a very slippery slope. But, from what I gather, it affected those who took part in a wee dram (or 10) in ways that mimic today's street drugs. Vincent seemed to be a big fan, and as such, he stumbled from time to time. Vincent's brother Theo was very close to him and decided the best way he could help was to fund Vincent's hopeful recovery at Saint Remy.
Treatment was not cheap, but the facilities were thought of as well run and successful for the time. For fear of sounding like a broken record, I left home at 8 a.m. My journey was supposed to take 46 minutes, and it wasn't far off that. If not for a few tractors pulling trailers full of cantaloupes in front of me, I would have been spot on.
I had never been to Saint-Remy-de-Provence before, and even though I had done a quick search for the historic bits around the town, I was not prepared. The city is stunning. Another gem that, if not for van Gogh, I would have probably never visited. I arrived about 20 minutes before the market day officially kicked off. There were so many stalls with such a variance of goods I was taken back. There are some massive market days near us, but this one in Saint Remy takes the cake.
I wanted to be in time to wander the grounds outside the walls. Still, with enough time to be in line for my ticket as the doors opened at 9:30. You can park in the shade of the plane trees adjacent to the 20 foot stone walls surrounding the facility. The asylum is still operating as such, and the noises I heard while wandering in the olive grove indicated business as usual. Currently, the wing that once was home to Vincent has been annexed off as a museum of sorts, and the remainder is still staffed and operating like any other mental health hospital.
I was all alone as the gates opened to the museum. I was confused as to why given the gravity of the place and beauty that surrounds it. I supposed a hundred years ago that you would have rarely born witness to a lineup to get into an asylum.
The ticket cost six euros, and after showing my pass Sanitaire to prove vaccination, I was in and walking towards the imposing building at the end of a beautiful tree-lined lane. You are treated to many reproductions of Vincent's paintings hanging on the garden walls as you meander along. They are hung perfectly in amongst a veritable cornucopia of local flowering plants. Many of these plants are seen in the paintings on show.
Some intermixed sculptures provide juxtaposition. After taking it all in, you come to the chapel. It is of considerable age but in beautiful condition. The origins of this place come from the Catholic church, as this was a monastery for many years. I try to stop and appreciate the architecture in every case such as this. Once inside the chapel, even a devout atheist may be moved. I spent some time inside until my little voice said, you better move on into the asylum to take in Vicent's room, the view from that room and the remaining facilities before more tourists arrive.
A young man working in the building gave me directions, and I climbed up the stairs to the second floor. There, on the left, was the tortured master's quarters. The room is laid out as it was in his day. The view from his window is supposed to play a small role in "A Starry Night " and many others.
I was there alone, and alone I stayed for just over 20 minutes. I sat in the room, trying to absorb the enormity of the opportunity and the experience. I suppose the right word is surreal. When I eventually heard voices on the floor below, I stood up and wandered across the hall to look at the other facilities. You will recognize in the photograph below that if you were not acting appropriately at bath time, you may be placed in the tub and then have the board resembling medieval stocks set over you. In addition, several burly staff may have to take a seat on that board until you had finished your required ablutions.
I'm unsure if my 18'" neck would have allowed my head to rest above the board. Nightmares are absolutely coming my way. Still no sign of other visitors, so I slowed my roll and read every bit of information I could on the walls. Eventually, it was time to go out into the walled (prison-like) garden to see the grounds and more of the places Vincent used for inspiration.
It never got old, and I had no reason to leave. If the prices were right perhaps, I could check-in. Maybe Blue Cross would assist with the bill payments. All things to ponder while I sat in van Gogh's garden. Eventually, one or two visitors appeared. I took that as a sign not to be greedy and make my way back to the gates like an escaping lunatic.
The unhinged screams from next door at the real deal continued as I walked across the road to the tiny Citroen I currently drive. What a wonderful morning. For me, of course, not so much for the tormented next door. Maybe a move to the asylum isn't what it is all cracked up to be. Not as I imagined while sitting alone in Vincent's room. It's for people that need some help to keep both their ears attached. Perhaps not for me. I know what you're saying under your breath! Bye for now.
Please leave a comment if you have time.
Live well!
Mark
p.s. All the images below were captured with the Leica M10-R and the Leica Q2.
