Touched by the Hand of God - The 'DSM' magazine
“We're going on a short holiday to Pau.” Said Anna, my wife. “Why and where is Pau?” said I. “It's somewhere my mum has always wanted to visit and it's near the Pyrenees.” said she. “Is your mother coming?” Said I, trying not to sound anxious. So it was, we found ourselves driving 85km from the Spanish border to Pau, not 'Pow', 'Payoo' or 'Poo', but 'Po' (as in the red Teletubby or a chamber pot). It was a grey old day so the Pyrenees were shrouded in clouds. Anna had booked an Airbnb in the centre of the town which looked lovely on the internet, but was, rather alarmingly, situated above a Cuban nightclub Habanita Chic . After a wander around the town, including the impressive Château de Pau, a sizeable Greek meal, several glasses of wine (with sundries), it was bedtime. Habanita Chic only had one customer (it was a Tuesday), but that didn't stop the pounding Cuban music... which continued until 2am. It seemed to be the same song on...