Random Bits of Basqueness

A Mystery – Why was a Lauburu the Symbol of the New York Folklore Center?

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Izzy Young outside his Folklore Center. The sign prominently features a lauburu…

Long time friend and collaborator of Buber’s Basque Page, David Cox, was watching the recent film on Bob Dylan’s life – A Complete Unknown. The New York Folklore Center was part of the story as the Center became a focal point for American folk music. In the context of Bob Dylan’s life, he spent a lot of time there, listening to music and reading.

David noticed that the sign for the Center featured a lauburu. This is curious, as the owner of the Folklore Center, Izzy Young, as best as David and I can tell, had no Basque connections. Maybe this is somehow purely coincidence? Or maybe Izzy saw a lauburu somewhere and liked it so much he made it a part of his store? The lauburu isn’t exclusively Basque, so maybe he got it from somewhere else?

If anyone has any insight as to why a lauburu was associated with the Folklore Center, we are so curious to find out.

Update! This post piqued Gerard Ezcurra’s interest and, as he writes, “I reached out to the Folklore Centrum in Stockholm (which Ziggy also founded), who also use the Lauburu. It doesn’t solve the mystery, but here is their reply.”

Gerard: Thank you for your Facebook page. I am curious about your logo (which of course is the Folklore Center’s logo). It is the Lauburu from Basque (northern Spain, southern France) culture. Someone has asked about the connection of Izzy Young and the Basques. Perhaps you know its origin?

Folklore Centrum: Hi Gerard,
Thanks for your nice message, and your kind communication. This symbol has long been shrouded in mystery as to why it was used by Izzy at his Folklore Center and Folklore Centrum, though many have speculated various reasons over the years. We do know that the original sign was given to Izzy by female artist friend of his in Greenwich Village back in the early 1960s.

I do plan to dig deeper into research someday as to who exactly this artist was but I do not know off hand.

Very interesting to read what this symbol is used to represent in Basque Country, and this very well may be a clue to both the artist and her intention in gifting it to Izzy.

It is surely an ancient and esoteric symbol nonetheless, and often a source of wonderment and inspiration to those who view it.

Izzy was great friend to me in the later years of his life. So I keep this Facebook page going in his memory and honor. So nice to connect with you here. Thanks for reaching out!
/Noah Gest

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore

Basque Fact of the Week: Animals as Omens of Death and Misfortune

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People have always searched for answers and have often turned to the world around them to help explain seemingly random events. Why did she die? Why did he get sick? The animal world often provided answers, or at least foretold coming misfortune. The Basques had a strong relationship with the animals around them and found, if not solace, at least some sense of order to the chaotic world in the voices of those animals.

Image of an owl from DarkLikeVader1‘s DeviantArt page.
  • A dog howling, especially pitifully, was a sign that someone would die, either in the same house or in the barrio. Sometimes the dog would howl one night, or sometimes two to three nights. Sometimes it would bark instead of howl. But, whatever the details, dogs were thought to have a preternatural ability to sense death. At times, dogs would howl upon the death of their masters. They might also “announce” the death of their master by lying at the foot of the bed or scratching at the sick person’s door.
  • If a rooster crowed at night, particularly between sunset and midnight or any off-normal time of day, that was also a sign of impending death, or of some other bad tidings. If the rooster was sacrificed or sold, that might ward off the bad omen. Similarly, throwing a handful of salt into the fire might also prevent whatever bad thing from happening. If a hen crowed like a rooster, that was also taken as a sign of imminent death.
  • Another sign that death was coming was restless livestock. If the animals behaved strangely, it meant that either death or bad weather was coming. For example, a cow mooing all night presaged the death of one man.
  • Cats also foretold death, either by meowing all day or attacking people that came close.
  • Birds, particularly owls, were also heralds of death. If an owl landed on the windowsill or in a nearby tree, singing its customary song, someone would die. If the owl’s song was heard three times, death would be instantaneous. Even the presence of the owl was feared. If an owl approached the house, it was believed someone would die. Corvids – crows, magpies, kites – were similar harbingers of death. If either bird cawed or flew to one’s left, death was coming.
  • If a swallow built a nest and a family member destroyed it, someone in the family would either fall sick or even die.
  • If a dove flew around a house and stopped on the windowsill, a good person would die. On the other hand, gales announced that a bad-hearted person would die.
  • Finally, insects also foretold death, particularly black botflies and black butterflies. If one was seen inside the house, someone in the house would die. Black bees were also omens of misfortune. If the queen and the hive died, so would someone within the house.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary source: Presagios de muerte/Heriotzaren zantzuak, Atlas Etnográfico de Vasconia

Food

Zurito: Basqueing in Boston

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A small, unassuming sign leads to some great ambiance inside.

In early December, I was in Boston for the annual Materials Research Society meeting. Always the week after Thanksgiving, this conference brings together materials scientists from all over the world to share their most recent results and ideas. It’s also a great opportunity to catch up with friends.

That includes non-scientist friends. We have some friends we met in Santa Fe that moved to Boston a few years ago to be closer to family. When I told them I was going to be in town, they jumped at the chance to get together. They also went above and beyond, inviting me to one of Boston’s newest foodie spots, Zurito.

The place was packed! No seat was empty!

Zurito opened only a month earlier, in November 2024. Situated in the Boston Commons area, it is in a great location, full of charm and character. The brownstones all around are witnesses to so much history. We took a stroll after dinner to take in all the great architecture. Many of the houses had plaques that detailed the history associated with them.

The place was packed! We had to have a reservation to even sit at the bar. It felt like a Basque taberna with so much ambiance – so much marcha – even if the pintxos weren’t on display all along the bar like you’d see in the Basque Country. We ordered a suite of pintxos to share, from beef cheeks (which I only recently tried in the Basque Country but thought they were wonderful) to traditional tortilla and patatas bravas to a plate of sliced chorizo. Everything was quite good, excellent even. The beef cheeks in particular took me back to that restaurant in Bilbo…

The menu – lots of great choices that took me back to the Basque Country.

I originally asked for a kalimotxo and the bartender seemed a bit befuddled. When I instead asked for half wine, half coke, he then told me they were out of coke. So I “settled” for a glass of txakoli from Getaria, which was quite nice, though I never quite got over my missing kalimotxo.

At the risk of sounding like a grumpy old man and channeling my dad, the one thing about these types of places is the cost. My dad was always for quantity over quality and, while I do like good food, I can’t help but compare the prices with what they would be in the Basque Country. That said, we weren’t in the Basque Country and it is hard to get these flavors outside of Boise.

My friends and I at the bar in Zurito.

We ended the nice with a cheese platter, as they didn’t have any actual deserts. I expected that they might have membrillo, but instead they had a fruit spread that came with the cheese. Not quite the same, but it captured the basic essence.

Overall, while you might not hit Zurito on a weekly basis, if you are missing that pintxo experience Zurito does a great job of scratching that itch.

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore

Basque Fact of the Week: The Eguzkilore

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We fear the night. Monsters, bad guys, and evil can hide in the dark. We avoid that darkened street corner, not sure what might be hiding in the shadows. The ancient Basques had those same fears, though perhaps their monsters were a bit different. They appealed to their goddesses for relief. And the eguzkilore was created…

An eguzkilore mounted to a door. Photo from Beautiful Basque Country’s Tumblr.
  • Eguzkilore literally means sunflower. However, the word actually refers to two different plants – Carlina acaulis and Carlina acanthifolia – neither of which are the sunflower we are familiar with. They are more of a thistle and grow low to the ground. One unique aspect of these plants is that they don’t wither once plucked but retain much of their form. They take two years to flower once planted and their oil is known for their aromatic properties, being used to treat acne and eczema.
  • However, the eguzkilore is more famous for its beauty and mythological importance. The flower is characterized by the central head adorned by rays of white petals. This is surrounded by a set of thorny leaves. The head closes when it rains to protect its pollen, which was used to predict rainstorms.
  • In Basque folklore, Amalur or alternatively Mari created the eguzkilore to protect humans, at their behest, against monsters and evil in the night. She first created the moon, but the evil spirts got used to it. She then created the sun, but that only helped during the day. Ultimately she created the eguzkilore so people would have protection at night. People would affix dried flowers to their doors, representing the light of the sun, which would repel evil. It would also protect against witchcraft.
  • The eguzkilore is found mainly in central Europe, in the Pyrenees and Cantauri mountains, between June and September. It usually grows on hillsides, pastures or meadows. Today it is a protected flower, so cannot be cut or taken from the wild. Due to changing weather and overconsumption, it is now classified as a rare or endangered plant.
  • Carlina acaulis gets its name from Charlemagne, who in searching for a cure for the plague, had a dream in which an angel told him to shoot an arrow into the air. Whatever plant the arrow hit when it came back to earth would provide a cure.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Eguzki-lore, Wikipedia

Basque Fact of the Week, People

Basque Fact of the Week: Juan Migel Orkolaga, a Pioneer in Meteorology

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It’s somewhat amazing to realize that we can get a reasonable forecast of the weather by simply looking at our phones. Granted, they aren’t perfect – forecasting the weather is extremely hard – but overall, when meteorologists say there is a 50% chance of snow, half the time it snows on those days. It wasn’t that long ago however where we were at the mercy of the weather, hoping that wizards and witches could prevent storms from destroying crops. One of the first to apply a scientific approach to the weather was Juan Migel Okrolaga, a priest from Gipuzkoa.

Juan Migel Orkolaga with some of his meteorological instruments. Photo from Wikipedia.
  • Juan Migel Orkolaga Legarra was born in Hernani, Gipuzkoa on October 1, 1863. He was a sickly child who was rather introverted compared to his peers. Instead of playing with toys and the like, he would watch and record the world around him, foreshadowing his future career path. In a futile effort to improve his health, he moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina as a young man, but returned to the Basque Country in the 1880s.
  • It was in Buenos Aires where he began his studies for the priesthood, to become a Jesuit, which he continued in the Seminary of Vitoria upon his return. Once he completed his vows in 1888, he was first assigned to the parish of Beizama before going to Zarautz.
  • In Zarautz, he began his rigorous observations of the weather. He built his first observatory and made predictions about the coming weather. He predicted the gale of November 15, 1900, giving authorities enough advanced notice that many lives were saved.
  • His successes led him to propose to the province the creation of a meteorological observatory. Built in Igeldo, Orkolaga was taking measurements by 1905. He predicted the storm of August 14, 1912, which again helped save the lives of many fishermen in the province. In contrast, in Bizkaia where his predictions were not available (Bizkaia had pulled out of helping fund the observatory due to a disagreement on its location), 143 fishermen died.
  • Orkolaga was self taught, and his lack of a scientific background caused some conflict with the scientific community. However, he had the knowledge and skills to construct a wide range of devices he used in his studies of the weather, including an anemo-cinemograph, a device used to measure wind speeds; an anemo-copograph, a device that indicates the direction of the wind by the hour; a rain gauge for fallen rain; another rain gauge which indicated the amount of water fallen and the direction of the wind; two hygrometers for relative humidity (one functioning as a heliograph, for the alternatives of sun and shade, and the other always remaining in the shade); and an anemoscope, which indicates the value of the periods of the prevailing winds for 12 or 24 hours.
  • With these instruments he created what he called a scientific-intuitive approach to weather monitoring and forecasting, as opposed to the use of mathematical models. By knowing the state of the various parameters he measured, he could intuit the coming of storms. He also asserted that he only really needed the barometer, that things like temperature and humidity were “distractions” that really didn’t help with forecasting. However his biases would also lead him to ignore advances in dynamic meteorology and technology that further advanced the science of meteorology.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Juan Migel Orkolaga, Wikipedia; Anduaga Egaña, Aitor. Orcolaga Legarra, Juan Miguel. Auñamendi Encyclopedia, 2023. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/orcolaga-legarra-juan-miguel/ar-111214/

Basque Fact of the Week, Fiestas, Fighting Basques

Basque Fact of the Week: A Stocking Full of Christmas Facts

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Merry Christmas! Egu Berri On! I hope everyone has a great holiday break however you celebrate. Today, I wanted to fill your virtual stocking with a bevy of Basque Facts about Christmas. May these little nuggets inspire you or at least give you some new perspective on the Basque culture, history, and people and whet your appetite for more in 2025!

Egu Berri eta Urte Berri On!
  • Zorionak! That unique and charming greeting for the Christmas season and more really means “good birds to you.”
  • The Feria of Santo Tómas is a huge festival that opens the Christmas season in Donostia. A large market that brings together rural wares and urban shopping, the Feria has become a signature event of the season in Donostia and beyond.
  • On the actual day of Christmas, it isn’t Santa that brings gifts to Basque children, but Olentzero and his companion Mari Domingi. The last of the Jentilak, the giants that created the great stone features that dot the Basque landscape, Olentzero is now a jolly coal worker that heralds the coming of Christmas.
  • Another Christmas tradition is the burning of the Yule log, in Basque the Gabonzuzi. Providing special protections for the house throughout the coming year, burning the Gabonzuzi was an important part of Christmas activities.
  • It was December, 1944, and one of the last major battles of World War II was about to happen, as the Germans made one of their last counteroffensives of the war. The Battle of the Bulge involved a number of Basque-Americans who went through hell that Christmas.
  • One Christmas, I got to watch dad make one of his wonderful hams. I fell in love with jamón serrano when I first visited the Basque Country and dad’s were just as good as anything I tried there. His “recipe” was pretty simple. Some day I may have to give it a try – my brother has done a great job making his own hams.
  • And, the day after Christmas, my great-uncle Joe turns 100! Zorionak Uncle Tio!

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources:

Art, Basque Fact of the Week

Basque Fact of the Week: The Basque Knot and the Basque Stitch

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Lisa Van De Graaff (my wife), in her studies of the textile arts, ran across an embroidery stitch called the Basque stitch. She asked me about it, suggesting I do a Basque Fact of the Week about it. It turns out, there is little information about it in English beyond the fact that it is called a Basque stitch. There is another embroidery term also inspired by the Basques, the Basque knot. Beyond finding their origins in the Basque Country, there isn’t too much more out there.

An example of the Basque stitch. Photo from Sarah’s Hand Embroidery Tutorials.
  • The origins of these embroidery techniques have been lost to time. There is some indication that the Basque stitch dates to the eighth century, when the Moors occupied large swaths of the Iberian peninsula and had close ties to some parts of the Basque Country. What is certain is that these stitches have been a prominent part of Basque design for many centuries.
  • The Basque stitch is also known as a twisted daisy border stitch. In Spanish, it is called Punto de vasca. If there is a specific term for this stitch in Euskara, I haven’t been able to find it.
  • The Basque knot is thought to be much newer in terms of its history. But, really, that’s all that seems to be known about this stitch. The Basque knot is also called a pearl stitch.
  • Sometimes the two terms are used interchangeably, further confusing things.
  • I’m not going to try to describe either the Basque stitch or the Basque knot here, as I wouldn’t be able to do either justice. If you are interested, you can check out this article on Piecework Magazine that goes into some of this history (what little is known) and provides step-by-step instructions as well as other links on how to make both of them.
  • That’s about all I could find about the origins and history of these stitches. If anyone knows more, please share!

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: See links in the main article.

Thanks to Lisa Van De Graaff for suggesting this topic for a Basque Fact of the Week!

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: Mugalariak, the Basque Smugglers

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For much of its history, the Basque Country has been split by borders that aren’t theirs, putting it into a kind of no-man’s land. Families were separated by this imaginary line, but the laws on either side were real. This led to a whole underground of trade perpetuated by men and women known as mugalariak. Crossing the Pyrenees in the cover of night, these smugglers carried forbidden goods from one side to the other. This network proved valuable during World War II when the mugalariak used their connections and familiarity of the land to help downed allies and persecuted Jews cross the border to freedom.

A mugalari under arrest. Photo from WordCamp Irun 2019.
  • Mugalari, the Basque word for smuggler, comes from muga, which means border, and lari, to denote someone who does that thing. So, mugalari is someone who lives in the border and crosses the border. They often worked across the Bidasoa river that separates Gipuzkoa from Iparralde.
  • Smuggling across the French-Spanish border has a long history. Of course, it is natural that Basques, who lived on both sides, would circumvent border restrictions. Mugalariak would smuggle pretty much anything: candles, grease, coal, bicycles, oil, cows, chocolate, sugar, coffee, spare parts for cars, records or even books banned by censorship.
  • Some of these smugglers were young men, not much more than boys. They were often shepherds who complimented their wages with smuggling. They worked at night, taking advantage of the darkness and their familiarity with the mountain routes.
  • However, mugalariak became “famous” during World War II. They helped downed allied airmen and Jews cross the border from Nazi occupied France to neutral Spain, where they would be escaped to Britain. Several of these smugglers were part of the Comet Line that crossed Europe and facilitated the rescue and escape hundreds of people. These included Miguel Etulain, María “Maritxu” Anatol Arístegui, Florentino Goikoetxea, Kattalin Agirre, and Ana María Bidegaray.
  • Their activities continued into the Franco era, where mugalariak would aid Euskadi ta Askatasuna (ETA) members get across the border to escape Spanish prosecution. These mugalariak were often associated with ETA directly and persecuted and even targeted as such.
  • The tradition of the mugalariak is recognized today in sporting competitions with the so-called zaku eramatea, or sack carry or smuggler’s run. Teams of 3 have to run with heavy sacks on their shoulders that weigh between 130 and 180 pounds.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Homenaje a un mugalari by A. Irisarri, Noticia de Navarra; Mugalari, Wikipedia

Basque Fact of the Week, Folklore

Basque Fact of the Week: The Mairu, or non-Christian Giants, in Basque Legends

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In many cultures, before there were humans, giants roamed the earth. These giants created the spectacular structures dotting the landscape that surely no human could ever have made. In Euskal Herria, there are a couple of these beings that roam the Basque imagination. They come from a time before Christianity and are often defined by their non-Christian origins. The most well known are the Jentilak but there is another group of giants, the Mairu, that built so many of the cromlechs, dolmens, and baserriak of the Basque Country.

An AI-generated conception of a Mairu. Image found on Wikidata.
  • Mairu, as a word, refers to any non-Christian. Usually, it means people – pagans – of another time and those Mairu are often reflected in the names of megalithic monuments in the Basque Country. Thus, we have Mairubide “road of Mairu” (cromlechs of Oiartzun), Mairuilarri “grave of Mairu” (cromlechs of Zugarramurdi), Mailarreta or Mairuilarrieta “place of cromlechs” (on the Otsondo-Mondarrain mountain), Mairuetxe “house of Mairu” (erected stones from Mount Buluntsa, dolmen of Mendibe and in the region of Okabe), Mairu-arhan “plum of Mairu”, and Mairu-ilhar “pea of Mairu.” The word Mairukeri, again referring to the ancient pagans, means “wild conduct.”
  • Often, the Mairu are associated with feats of great strength, hence why these massive ancient monuments are named for them. Some giant must have made the dolmens, harrespil, and the sturdiest of baserriak that dot the Basque landscape. They often play the same role in stories as the Jentilak.
  • However, the term Mairu is not only associated with these ancient pagan giants. It is also used to identify any non-Christian. Anyone not baptized is a Mairu. The arm of a child that is either not baptized or died before baptism is called mairubeso – the arm of mairu. These arms – the bones of the arm – of these non-Christian children play their own role in Basque legend. In some stories, the protagonist uses the mairubeso – the arm bone of the unbaptized child – as a light to navigate the night and sometimes to subdue the inhabitants of the house where such a torch is found lit.
  • Unbaptized children, Mairu, are buried near the house or garden rather than in the church plots and cemeteries.
  • The word Mairu often more directly means Moor as well. There is some evidence that other areas of Europe believed that peoples from the south came with the technology to build such massive structures. Thus, the Mairu might originally have been North Africans.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Barandiaran Ayerbe, José Miguel de. Mairu. Auñamendi Encyclopedia, 2024. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/mairu/ar-77761/; Mairu, Wikipedia

Remembering Dad

Remembering Dad by Telling His Stories

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Dad died nine years ago this Thanksgiving. I miss you, dad.

Dad came to the United States when he was 18. He had three uncles over here, already working in the hills as sheepherders, and he hoped to make some money like they did. There just wasn’t so much opportunity in the Basque Country at the time. He’d quit school when he was 14 to try to help out the family, but there just wasn’t much work in the area. The family was large (dad was the oldest of eight kids) and the family farm, or baserria, just wasn’t enough to support them all.

The summer before he came, he worked on the road between Munitibar and Bolibar. His amuma Justa would make a big tortilla for him every morning which he scarfed down during his break at 10. His amuma was the main cook for the family and that tortilla was his favorite thing she made. Though he did like dessert too, which was typically either an apple they baked with sugar in the middle or rice pudding.

As seemingly every Basque I’ve ever met, including myself, his amuma was pretty stubborn. She had a heart condition, but she couldn’t sit still and insisted in working in the fields with the rest of them. But she would quickly tire and have to take a lot of breaks. The only other thing that would keep her from going crazy was playing cards. Every Sunday, the neighbors would come over and play. Or, if it was raining hard, they would pop in to the baserria to take a break, have some wine and cheese, and play cards. Any excuse to play cards. Twice, dad helped to make cheese.

Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

When he came to the United States, dad came with nothing. Only some clothes and a little bit of money. And a contract. He had a three year contract with sheep man Jon Archibal, who picked him up at the airport in Boise and drove him out towards Homedale. There, a foreman met him, took him to buy some clothes, and set him up for his time in the hills. Back in 1962 when dad came to the US the first time, he made $225 per month, with room and board paid for.

For his first band, he was partnered with his uncle Santiago. They went from Homedale to Silver City, which is about 50 miles. They had a set route that took them through several pastures. The round trip was about 9 months, which was spent entirely in the hills. Every 10 days or so, someone would come and bring them supplies. Besides his uncle, the only company they had were their three dogs, three horses, and three mules. Dad’s job was to maintain the camp while his uncle took the sheep out to graze. As they moved around, dad set up the camp, putting up the tent and the like, and made the food. When his uncle came back to eat, dad would look after the sheep. He did this for three years before going back to the Basque Country. But the economic draw of the United States pulled him back again. He returned for another three year contract, but this time he stayed in the main camp, out of the hills.

Blas and his father, Pedro.

Dad didn’t know a lick of English when he came. That really wasn’t much of a problem, as everyone he worked with was Basque. Once in a while, they would have run-ins with others. One time, in Silver City, a cowboy came in to the restaurant or bar and complained about those Basque bastards and their sheep. However, they were on good terms with the local miners, as they would give them meat from the band.

Thanks to Lisa Van De Graaff for encouraging me to record dad and his stories when I could. Lisa took the photo at the top.