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Handing out pink toilet paper with forks and butter knives Sancho Rodriguez explains our upcoming schedule before stopping to check on the baking Dorado. Sancho is the son of wine makers on the Spanish side of the Basque coast. At thirty-nine his refined and rugged mug resembles my personal caricature of Don Quioxte and I often picture him with a coat of arms, conquistador hemet and curved sword even though he’s Basque and Basque and Spanish politics have long had an uneasy association.Sancho is a pro. He has lined up this trip and he’s the reason I am being paid to double dip on cultural documentary/surf trip.

The weeks leading up to our departure had me researching nationalism, the history of separatist movements and Basque culture to better understand this land’s enigmatic history. The Basques have the oldest known language in Europe with no Latin or Germanic roots. Their rugged homeland is nestled in the Northwest corner of Spain on the Bay of Biscay. For thousands of years they have preserved their language and traditions despite occupation the occupation of Moores, Romans, and Fascism.

The following morning Sancho arrives with our producer who turns out to be a very pretty twenty-seven year old blond from nearby Pampalona. Her home town hosts the annual running of the bulls and her job is to keep us well supplied and connected with the various characters who will comprise my documentary portrait of modern Basque culture.