France

My France is a sliver of it. The Atlantic southwest, where the country stops being Paris and starts being surfboards, oysters and long lunches. Bordeaux, Hossegor, Arcachon and the Basque coast, where the waves roll in and nobody’s in a hurry. I’m not the person to tell you about the Louvre; I’m the one who’ll tell you where to eat after a morning in the water and which slow Saturday is worth building a whole trip around. Honest, first-person, and made to pair with the Spanish Basque Country just over the border.