Miguel Indurain Larraya is recognized as one of the greatest cyclists in the history of cycling. He is one of four people to win five Tours de France (Lance Armstrong‘s victories were stripped when he admitted to doping). Indurain holds the distinction, however, of being the only one to win his five Tours consecutively, winning the Tours from 1991 to 1995. Not only did he win five Tours, he also won the Giro d’Italia twice, being only one of seven riders who won both the Giro and the Tour in the same season. He also won the individual time trial at the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta.
Jul 1995: Miguel Indurain of Spain in action during stage two of the Tour de France, in France. \ Mandatory Credit: Mike Powell /Allsport
Indurain was born in Villava, Nafarroa, just outside of Pamplona/Iruña. Villava is a small town that was founded in 1184 by King Sancho VI the Wise.
His first bike, given to him by his dad when he was 10, was stolen a year later. Indurain worked the fields with his dad to buy a new one. However, it wasn’t until he was 14 that he competed in his first race and by 18 he had won the national amateur road championship.
To understand Indurain’s almost superhuman abilities, many tests were performed on him. These tests revealed that (1) his blood cycled 7 liters of oxygen through his body per minute (the average person only cycles about 3-4 liters per minute), (2) his cardiac output was 50 liters per minute, compared to about 5 liters per minute for the average person at rest, (3) his lung capacity was 7.8 liters, compared to an average of about 6, (4) his resting pulse reached 28 beats per minute, while the average person’s is 60-72, and (5) his VO2 max was 88 ml/kg/min compared to an average of 35-40 ml/kg/min for a healthy but untrained man. It is these superior physiological qualities that are suspected to have given Indurain such an advantage.
Cycling is very popular in the Basque Country and the region has produced a large number of cyclists. The Tour of the Basque Country weaves through the region every year. Indurain competed in the Tour of the Basque Country in 1990, taking 3rd place.
One of the primary ways in which Basques express their culture is through music, and a revival of folk instruments has been, pardon the pun, instrumental in developing a unique sound. Possibly one of the most unique and thus identifiable instruments is the txalaparta. In its simplest form, the txalaparta is simply a set of wooden planks (maybe only one) that are supported by either baskets, chairs, or boxes and are pounded with wooden mallets. Percussive music is made by where the plank is hit, with different notes resonating depending on location. Typically, the txalaparta is played by two players.
Image from Youtube (you can hear these guys play here.)
Other variants of the txalaparta include the toberak, kirikoketa, ttinbilin-ttanbalan and ote-jotzea. These often arise from work. The kirikoketa, for example, is played at the fiesta celebrating the making of the cider, using the hammers and mallets used to smash the apples to hit the boards. Similarly, the ttinbilin-ttanbalan celebrates the placing of the center beam in a new house, using the chisels and hammers to make the music.
The txalaparta itself is related to cider making. In many cider houses around Donostia, when they were done making the cider, they would place the txalaparta outside and begin playing it. They often used the boards used to press the apples. This alerted the surrounding villages to the party. The villagers would come, where they would be “jumping, shouting, drinking cider, and playing and listening to the txalaparta until dawn” (Ramón Goikoetxea).
The toberak replace the wooden mallets and planks with metal rods and bars. These may have started, again, as a work task, taking the pipes from the forge and hitting them with hammers to knock soot loose, cleaning them. In modern txalaparta playing, in addition to metal and wood, glass and stone are sometimes used, all in combination.
There are typically two players, called ttakuna, tukutuna or bia (the two) and herrena (lame), urguna (lame), pikatzailea or bata (the one). They have different roles. One is responsible for creating the rhythm and the other dismantles that order, creating tension. They constantly speed up until it isn’t possible to maintain the tension any longer. While the rules for playing the txalaparta are strict, they also allow the players, through phrasing and rhythmic combinations, tone, intensity and tempo changes, to play with great freedom to develop their creativity and to improvise.
Pidgins are languages that arise when two other languages come in contact. They are simplified languages to ease communication between two people that have otherwise very different languages, often to facilitate trade. As such, they are always second languages (never the mother-tongue of anyone). Given the extensive and often commercial travel of Basques, it is not surprising that several pidgins developed over time that involved Euskara, the Basque language. These pidgins developed in both Europe and the Americas.
A family of Basque Romani at the beginning of the 20th century (from Auñamendi Entziklopedia).
In their journeys ever westward in the search for new fishing and whale hunting grounds, the Basques stopped at Iceland, for the first time around 1600. There is an infamous episode, in 1615, where a number of Basque sailors, after stealing some dried fish from a local merchant, were massacred — the last massacre to occur in Icelandic history. This so-called “Slaying of the Spaniards” led to a law that said all Basques should be killed on sight, a law that was only formally repealed in 2015.
During their interactions, the Basques developed a pidgin with the Icelanders. This pidgin included a number of colorful phrases, including the phrase “Sickutta Samaria” which Dr. Viola Giulia Miglio has concluded means “go shag a horse.” A more complete bibliography specifically on the Basque-Icelandic pidgin can be found at Euskosare. I first heard about these pidgins a number a years ago when I encountered the work of Peter Bakker.
The Basques also developed pidgins with Native Americans, particularly the Algonquin peoples. The Basques and the Mi’kmaq people had a long history and, as might be expected, there was some intermarrying between the peoples. In fact, “Basque” is a somewhat common surname among the Mi’kmaq people. Some of the words from this contact actually made it into the Mi’kmaq language, including the Mi’kmaq words “atlei”, from the Basque “atorra (shirt)”, “elegewit” from “errege (king)”, and “Plansia” from “Prantzia (France).”
Not exactly a pidgin, per se (though one can imagine it started out as one), the Romani who came to the Basque Country by 1435 developed their own language, now known as Erromintxela. This language essentially combines the vocabulary of the Romani with the grammar of Euskara. As noted by AboutBasqueCountry, not a whole lot has been documented about this language.
We are all familiar with the wave of Basque migration that brought sheepherders to the American West, and rightfully so given the close connection many of us have with those immigrants. However, the American Southwest is literally littered with Basque names from centuries earlier, when Basques were a large part of the conquistadors that swept through the Americas in the name of Spain. In fact, the state now called New Mexico was first settled and governed by the son of a Basque conquistador. Juan de Oñate was the son of Cristóbal de Oñate, who was born in Gipuzkoa. Juan founded the province of Santa Fe de Nuevo Mexico and was the province’s first governor from 1598-1610. He was later exiled from the region because of his use of excessive force.
Statue of Juan de Oñate in Alcalde, New Mexico. Image from Wikipedia.
Juan’s dad, Cristóbal de Oñate, is known for founding the modern city of Guadalajara in Mexico. He is also credited for founding several other cities in Mexico during the Spanish conquest of Mexico, including Compostela, Tepic, and Zacatecas. During the conquest of Zacatecas, silver mines were discovered that made him and his partners some of the richest people in New Spain. In contrast to many conquistadors, it seems that Cristóbal had a relatively benign disposition, offering “meals to the needy on a daily basis throughout his entire life, and is said to have turned over the proceeds from his encomiendas to improve native villages.” (source: Wikipedia)
Cristóbal was a descendant of the House of Haro, a powerful family that was deep in Spanish politics. Because of their support of the policies of Alfonso VI of Castile, Íñigo López became the first Lord of Bizkaia in around 1040. It was during his time as Lord of Bizkaia that the fueros were originally granted to the province, in 1051 by the king García Sánchez III of Navarre.
Juan himself is most infamous for his actions during the Acoma War. As his soldiers were trying to wrest supplies from the people of Acoma Pueblo, supplies the Acomas needed for the winter, 11 soldiers were killed. In retaliation, Juan ordered the pueblo destroyed. In what has become known as the Acoma Massacre, his forces killed between 800-1000 Acoma died. Those who survived were placed on trial. All Acoma older than 12 years old were enslaved for 20 years and all men older than 25 years old (a total of 24 men) had a foot amputated.
After several expeditions, including one where he tried to find Quivira, the fabled city of gold, Juan returned to New Mexico. He was summoned to Mexico City where he was tried and convicted of, amongst other things, extreme cruelty to both natives and colonists. He was banished from New Mexico for life. He eventually returned to Spain where he lived the rest of his days.
Juan is still a controversial figure. While some celebrate him for his role in establishing what is now the state of New Mexico and many of the cities within it, he is also vilified for his treatment of, in particular, the Acoma. In 1998, a statue in his honor was erected in Alcalde, New Mexico, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of his arrival. One of his feet was cutoff in protest by an unknown group.
My dad would have turned 75 today. To celebrate his birthday, I thought I’d repost this blog about making bread the sheepherder’s way. Happy birthday dad! I miss you!
As I mentioned earlier, seemingly once I left home for school, my dad began making his own jamon and chorizo. Another tradition my dad has revived recently is making sheepherder’s bread. Actually, the whole gang in Homedale has gotten back to their roots, so to speak, and they hold competitions for the best bread. It gets pretty intense, with guys speculating about whether this loaf will turn out or not. My dad is no exception. He treated us to the full experience over break.
Out in the hills, he would dig a pit in which to bake the bread. At his home, however, he has a permanent pit, lined with a big concrete pipe. Most of the time, it’s covered with a board and it’s only rarely that the lid comes off and he makes a loaf, mostly because it does take some effort. He’s collected a large pile of sagebrush from the hills that he slowly is chipping away at.
I’ve had a recipe for sheepherder’s bread on my site for some time now, and from what I’ve been told and experienced from my wife’s own hand, it makes a very good loaf. But dad’s (txitxi to my daughter) recipe is slightly different:
Txitxi Bread for a #10 Dutch Oven
1.5 packets active dry yeast
(he uses Red Star)
1 quart + "a bit" lukewarm water
1 heaping Tbsp + 1/4 tsp sugar
Combine and let yeast proof.
Add 3/4 tsp salt and all
purpose flour until you reach
desired consistency.
Knead until smooth.
Let rise until doubled in bulk,
twice. Put in greased dutch oven
(preferably with bacon grease)
and let rise until lid is pushed up.
If baking in oven, 350 degrees
Fahrenheit for approximately 60 minutes.
Keep covered with lid or tented with foil.
However, if you want to be authentic, you’ve got to cook it in the pit.
First, we burned quite a bit of the sagebrush, just to get some ashes to use later. These we dug out and let cool. We then burned another batch. These were for the hot ashes, the ones to cook the bread. Once the sagebrush had burned down such that we had maybe 5 inches of hot coals, we lowered the Dutch oven into the pit. This is where the cool ashes come in. We covered the Dutch oven with cool ashes to act as an insulating blanket and to keep the heat in. We further covered it with a little dirt. This seems to be the trickiest part: you want enough insulation to keep the heat in but not so much that you smother the fire. Dad said that you should be able to just barely feel the heat coming off when putting your hand near the top.
A critical step is to make sure the handle of the Dutch oven is up when you start burying it, as otherwise you won’t have anything to grab when you pull it out.
We left our bread in the pit for something on the order of 1 and a half hours. It was getting late and we needed to eat dinner, so we pulled it out, maybe a little early. The center wasn’t quite cooked. Dad threw it in the conventional oven for a while longer to eat the next day. He claimed we had smothered the fire, put too much ash on top. In any case, the bread looked great and, the next day, the bread tasted great too.
While we were burning all of that sagebrush and the wind picked up some embers and blew them around, I asked dad if he ever had a fire get away from him in the hills. He said once, a fire started to get away, but he was able to put it out, so nothing really happened. But he had a tale of another sheepherder who did have one get completely out of control. It burned quite a few acres, getting big enough that a fire crew had to be called in to put it out. I don’t know how much it ended up burning or exactly where this was, but dad said that this sheepherder somehow became part of the fire crew, helped put it out, and got paid to do it!
This is a very simple recipe, with only 5 ingredients. I imagine it was important for a young sheepherder, cooking in a strange environment with limited ingredients while also trying to herd sheep, to keep things as simple as possible. I’m not sure how much these guys would have cooked back in the old country, but I imagine it was very little. I also imagine that the bread isn’t too sensitive to how it’s cooked as things aren’t precisely controlled in this process. But, it sure does produce some very tasty bread!
Euskadi is growing in scientific leadership. According to Ikerbasque, the Basque Foundation for Science, Euskadi published more than 6000 scientific papers in 2017, a 50% increase over the last 6 years. This is 6.5% of the total scientific productivity of Spain, when Euskadi has 4.7% of the population.
Science investment in Euskadi is driven by the so-called Plan de Ciencia, Tecnología e Innovación Euskadi 2020. This plan emphasizes three strategic priorities — energy, advanced manufacturing, and bio-sciences and health — along with four areas of opportunity — agri-food industry; territorial planning and urban regeneration; leisure, entertainment, and culture; and ecosystems.
One feature of the Basque commitment to scientific R&D is their network of Cooperative Research Centers. Centers focused on Biomaterials, Biosciences, Energy, and Nanoscience are spread throughout Euskadi. These centers were created by the Basque Government to “create an effective framework of cooperation in strategic research areas, strengthen interdisciplinary basic and applied worldclass research in those areas and provide technology transfer to the industrial environment” (from the NanoGUNE website).
As in many places, chocolate is a big part of Basque life. On birthdays, instead of the birthday cake familiar in the United States, Basques often drink a cup of liquid chocolate. It wasn’t so long ago, in the early 1800s, that chocolate was a common part of breakfast in the Basque Country. It was often viewed, not as a treat, but as a health drink, inspired, in part, by the way the Mayans and Aztecs used it as, effectively, an energy drink. Indeed, Hernán Cortés noted how drinking cocoa could help one resist fatigue. But, the Basques were also a big part of the development and commercialization of chocolate.
Europeans first encountered cocoa during the conquests of the “New World.” The first reference to cocoa was in 1502, when Christopher Columbus encountered the Mayans. It wasn’t long, in 1520, before the Spanish brought cocoa back to the Iberian peninsula, where they made chocolate by adding sugar to the cocoa. The Spanish guarded their secrets carefully and it wasn’t until 1600 that first Italy and then France learned how to make chocolate.
Baiona became an important center for making chocolate when the Jews that were expelled from Spain by the Catholic Kings. By 1670, the city was giving chocolate as a gift to visitors. In 1761, the statutes of the chocolatiers of Baiona were passed, saying that one had to be a Master to open a chocolate shop in the town. At the same time, though, the Jews that had originally brought the art of making chocolate to the city were banned from selling it outside their own district. By the end of the 18th century, half of the chocolate consumed in France was produced in Iparralde, or the French Basque Country. There is an annual festival in Baiona celebrating chocolate!
On the Spanish side, in 1728, the Real Compañía Guipuzcoana de Caracas was created to encourage trade between Spain and the Indies, at least in part as a reaction against Dutch trade with the Spanish colonies and the inability of the Spanish crown to control that trade — they wanted to break the Dutch monopoly on cocoa. This company enjoyed two special privileges, given by royal decree: a monopoly on the commercialization of cacao and the ability to persecute illegal trade. It wasn’t until 1774, again due to royal decree, that trade opened up between other countries of Europe and cacao producers in South America. This led to the first chocolate factory, founded in 1776, in France. The company dissolved in 1785. The company had a large role in the politics of Venezuela, including border expeditions such as that led by a company man, José de Iturriaga y Aguirre.
The chocolate company Elgorriaga was founded in 1770. It arose from shepherds going to market in Irún, Gipuzkoa. Some of the shepherds opened a chocolate business. In the 19th century, the wife of one of the shepherds opened a shop, calling it Confitería Elgorriaga, after the family. Today, the company is now part of the larger Urbasa Global Brands. While not its own company any more, Elgorriaga chocolates can be found the world-over.
Euskara, the language spoken by the Basque people, is now spoken by about 750,000 people. The language is perhaps the most singularly important feature identifying the Basque people. Indeed, the word for a Basque person in Euskara — euskaldun — means ‘one who has Euskara.’ Thus, the history of the language itself is of great interest and importance in understanding the history of the Basque people. Given that Basque has not had a strong written history, reconstructing the history of the language is challenging. The earliest known evidence for Euskara comes from a set of lead tablets from the Roman period. These tablets have the word “NESCAS” or “NISCAS” written on them, apparently referring to the modern Basque word neska, which means girl, used, in this context, to invoke the local nymphs.
It is now accepted that Basque is related to the now-dead language Aquitanian, that Aquitanian is an ancestral form of Basque. There are inscriptions of Aquitanian names from the first centuries BC and AD that can be related to Basque words; examples include NESKATO (neskato=girl), ANDERE (andere=lady), CISSON (gizon=man), OSSO, OXSO (otso=wolf), and HERAUS (herauts=boar).
After the lead tablets, the earliest record of Euskara is from personal names, the earliest of which is Momus, a Latin version of the no-longer-used Basque name Mome. This name appears in the cemetery of Argiñeta in Elorrio, usually dated to 883.
The earliest known phrases in Euskara are from the so-called Emilian Glosses from the San Millán monastery in the Rioja. These phrases, from a manuscript dated to 950, are jzioqui dugu and guec ajutu-ezdugu. The meaning of these phrases isn’t completely clear.
The earliest known example of a text connecting more than a few words together comes from a magical charm or prayer, dated to the 14th century, that was found in the cathedral of Pamplona in 1957.
The longest preserved text we have from before the period before publication began comes from a letter written in 1537 by the first Bishop of Mexico, Joan Zumarraga, to Kattalin Ruiz Muntsaratz with the goal of arranging a marriage between his nephew and Kattalin’s daughter.
The first printed book in Euskara is a book of poems, Linguæ Vasconum Primitiæ (“First Fruits of the Basque Language”), published in 1545 and written by Beñat Etxepare. In one of his poems, Etxepare calls for “Heuscara ialgui adi cãpora.” or Euskara jalgi hadi kanpora=Basque, go outside. He wanted Basque to be a more important language.
Anyone who has been to a Basque festival will recognize the rural theme of many Basque sports. Based on activities that would have occurred at the baserri, or farm house, Basque rural sports include wood chopping and sawing, bale lifting, and weight carrying. In fact, the Basque Government has identified 18 of these events in its Strategic Plan. Perhaps one of the most spectacular and popular of these events is harri jasotzea, or stone lifting. There are various variants of stone lifting, from lifting the biggest weight to lifting a smaller weight as many times as possible. In all cases, a successful lift consists of getting the stone to one’s shoulder.
Saralegi with his 329 kilogram lift. Photo from teleame.com.
The world record for the heaviest lift is held by Mieltxo Saralegi, with a lift of 329 kilograms, or 725 pounds, a feat which took place in 2001 in Lekunberri. That is, he lifted rectangular rock off the ground and up to his shoulder that weighed over 700 pounds!
Perhaps the most famous stone lifter is Iñaki Perurena, who held the previous record at 320 kilograms. He also held the record for the most lifts of a 100 kilogram stone: 1,700 times over the course of 9 hours. Iñaki has become a celebrity in the Basque Country, acting in the TV series Goenkale and writing bertsos.
There is a stone, the Albizuri-Handi de Amezketa, that has become almost mythic in the history of Basque stone lifting. Weighing “only” 166.5 kilograms (367 pounds), it is a natural stone with a very irregular shape. While stories swirl that it was lifted in 1875 by José María Zuriarrain Galarza, the first confirmed lift occurred in 1947, by Santos Iriarte (known as Errekartetxo), who barely got it to his shoulder within the ten minute time limit. Aimar Irigoien lifted this stone in 2002, when he was only 16 years old.
It wasn’t until stone lifter Bittor Zabala, who lifted between 1910 and 1945, came along that the stones were given standard dimensions and weights. Before that, stone lifters used whatever stones they wished, in whatever shape. Today, all of the stones (with the exception of special stones such as the Albizuru-Handi), are of specific size, weights, and dimensions.
