Serenaded by Pau’s past, present and future

T he first evening I spend in Pau — the historical capital of Bearn country and a lively university town situated at the foot of the Pyrenees mountain range — is in so picturesque a spot, it seems right off the cover of a guidebook. At least that’s what it feels like walking along under a solitary cloud, surrounded by extensive gardens.

I stumble into the medieval castle of Henry IV, overlooking some of the most splendid alpine scenery in Europe. An amorous Frenchman whispers into my ear, “Mon cherie, a city break in Pau is like being let loose in wonderland, n’est c’est pas? Look how seductively we are situated between mountains and coast. In the morning, I could be proposing to you on the beach at nearby Biarritz, in the afternoon you could think about the matter over glasses of fine white wine in the Juracon vineyards and, in the evening, we could be married in the Pyrenees.” 

Where my attachment is born I can’t really say but it has something to do with the fact that Pau feels like a place rooted in history and heritage, with inner intent beyond malls and fast food.

The castle of Pau, which houses one of the biggest and most well-preserved collections of tapestries outside Paris, testifies to this fact. The cobble-and-brick facades of the buildings hark back to days when artisans built residences for the nobility, with materials dredged from the river Gave.

Pau is proud of its past, its renaissance gardens and its empress-styled bed chambers, but it isn’t locked in a narcissistic loop. Its dynamism is as fascinating as the experience of gazing at masterpieces and artifacts in its museums. A few cases in point: A 20th century palace has been converted into a high-tech conference centre and a former neo-gothic convent now acts as a school of music and dance. The museum of fine arts which is home to a collection of paintings from the 15th to the 20th century, has a contemporary art chamber. Pau attracts artistes and writers of repute rather than stagnating on past laurels.

Even Pau’s infrastructure fits with its national character. In the 19th century, the British and Irish arrived here, attracted by the curative effects of the mild-climate and mountain scenery. Soon, golf courses were built, and mansions and exquisite villas were constructed. Winter horse racing and urban motor racing followed closely in their wake.

A racing aficionado tells me that when it comes to training horses, he’d opt for Pau over Paris. “The moderate climate means the tracks are never frozen, and you can train your horse all year round. Moreover, it’s cheaper to train them in Pau,” he says.

There’s also a white-water sports stadium, the oldest golf course in the continent and the Grand Prix Automobile de Pau that takes place as part of the world car championship. These activities, which may be perceived as highbrow elsewhere, are truly semi-casual community affairs here.

The Grand Prix is the perfect example of that.  Converted into an urban racing circuit in 1933 and nicknamed “Little Monaco”, this fast and challenging 2,760-km circut, with the Pyrenees Mountain range as backdrop, has won international acclaim. Several legendary drivers including Jim Clark have crossed this street circuit finish line as winners, driving the fastest cars by Bugatti, Mercedes, Ferrari, and Maserati. No matter who wins on this circuit, the event is celebrated by the local community.

With both vintage and sports cars obviously built for ogling on the streets, it’s easy to see why, on the days of the races, even birds flutter through the air with matinal excitement. The whole town is out of their homes, chewing on cotton candy, cheering on the drivers, waving colourful flags. Little children hop into dinky car in amusing simulation of what happens on the street racing circuit.

In this atmosphere of warm congeniality, I find myself seriously considering the proposal from the young French Casanova, for such is the seduction of life in this historic, picturesque town.