Hendaye

I'm "Chez Mickel", just across La Bidassoa, the river that here forms the border between Spain and France. On this side of the bridge is Irun, on the other, Hendaye. In this excellent restuaurant, unlike at the barbers, I have more success with my ambiguous hand gestures. Ordering dessert, I ask for "Something like this" making a vaguely mountainous movement on the table in front of me. A plate arrives laced with raspberry coulis and chocolate containing all the desserts on the menu bar the cheese board, a superlative culinary effort.

TRAVELLER'S TIP: When asking a hotel owner if there is somewhere cheaper nearby, take the time he says it will take to get there and divide it by 10. Also take the price he quotes and divide it in half.

The next day there is a rowing race on the river that I watch while I wait for my train. I ask whether there are Spanish and French competitors, but one of the coaches, a man with large cheeks and a stopwatch resting on his belly, replies vehemently that there are neither, only Basques.