SpainBasque CountrySan SebastiánJaialai43°19’11” N 1°57’60” W
June 18, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
As usual farewells are painful for me, and I like to keep them short and sweet. We obviously had breakfast at Cafe Alabama for the last time, and I bid a silent and heartbroken adieu to my holiday love affair. Since it was a rainy day GC and I popped into the Museo de San Telmo which had a Greek Mythos art-display on loan from the Museum del Prado over in Madrid. Tickets were, as everything in San Seb. seems to be, very affordable, and the museum itself was a gorgeous building which we wondered around in up until we had to leave for out flights.
On our return trip GC took a bus back to Bilbao, but I was flying to Barcelona so had booked a flight straight from San Sebastian Airport, a 20-minute bus ride from the centre. Word of advice? Not worth it.
The flight, operated by Vueling, was delayed by over three-three-hours for mechanical failures. This quickly became an anxiety-trigger, exacerbated when we were told we might have to be put-up overnight as the flight might not leave at all: I thanked my lucky stars i had a couple of go-to CBT exercises to help calm myself down. Throughout, we were told, in no uncertain terms, that the fault was with the airline and we were entitled to compensation. However, when in Barcelona and attempting to claim-back the compensation due, Vueling replied that San Sebastian Airport is known for its tricky weather conditions and difficult-to-navigate air-traffic, and that delays from this airport are commonplace. Therefore, they stated, no compensation was due. They made no reference to the fact their staff at the airport had revealed to us that the fault was a mechanical one with the airplane (and so as per EU laws the responsibility of compensation was theirs). I did not pursue the matter because I have better things to do with my time, but from now on I am determined to avoid them as often as I can: there is nothing that makes me angrier than corporations taking advantage of their own customers when trying to claim where claim is due. (FYI: a month later my mum came to visit me in London with Vueling, and on picking up her checked-in brand-new-suitcase she noticed it was completely damaged. Vueling refused to even address any manner of compensation).
Despite the downer of a flight back, the holiday itself was absolutely fabulous, and although not reliable for temperature and weather (it is the north of Spain after all) I heartily recommend it. I can’t wait to take S over there and go absolutely foodie-mental.Read more
SpainBasque CountrySan SebastiánJaialai43°19’11” N 1°57’60” W
June 18, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
Our fourth day in San Seb. It was the coldest of the lot, and this is the day we decided we would go kayaking. We had a little paddle to the Isla de Santa Clara which would have been beautiful and lovely other than for the fact that the kayak-mooring area was a swim away from the island, and with only our bikinis to shield us from the grey skies and icy winds I have to say I didn’t fancy staying on the island for long. We swam, we saw, we swam back to the kayak, and the fact I am still alive and lost no extremity to frostbite is a testament to how far I have come in my battle with cold-management.
Back on the beach, towel wrapped around me, shivers rattling my bones, GC pointed to Monte Igueldo, another little spot we’d been recommended, and being obsessed with mountains and anything potentially panoramic, I was all for it. We got on the little tram (a very affordable €8 return) and up we clattered to a small theme-park atop the mountain. By theme park think closer to a fair, small rides which look like they’re about to fall apart but hold strong year after year. Haunted houses, tiny roller-coasters, bumper-cars, and a gorgeous place to wander, observe, and enjoy.
The absolute piece de resistance on this mountain though was the Marriot Hotel. I know, I know, it’s not a name that is instantly associated with that bougie lifestyle. But the bar at this place? Floor to ceiling. Glass. Walls. And all around? Endless, endless ocean, blue, and beautiful, and nothing else. The image of the place is absolutely seared into my mind, it is the epitome of the reading room I dream to have some day. Not the huge lounge with the lounge-chairs and the bar (although, why not) but the open-views, where be it day or night, summer or winter, I can curl up in a chair with a book, look up, and see nothing but an endless expanse of ocean and an infinite horizon. That’s the dream.
Dinner that night was another hit. Txubillo, a Basque-Japanese fusion restaurant, absolutely blew my mind and it will definitely be a place I return to when (when!) I come back to San Seb. Again, the venue is small, and it did get loud (although we happened to be there on a night were there were two 10-person-parties having a fabulous but loud night). Still we didn’t struggle to hear each other, and the food was delicious. It wasn’t the cheapest we’d had, but it was hardly expensive either, and it was definitely, definitely, worth it. The portions were also a little smaller, but the quality was absolutely spectacular, and despite the waitress and owner being the only two people there there (I died) they were always flawlessly polite, friendly and helpful. Guys, I really can’t praise this place enough.
And off to bed we went, because like every night we had over-indulged in food, and although not uncomfortable, the drowsiness that comes after food alongside the comfort of our beds drew us back to the hostel, and into slumber-land.Read more
SpainBasque CountrySan SebastiánJaialai43°19’11” N 1°57’60” W
June 18, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
Surfing day was upon us, and as is customary the stars aligned and GC had to bail on our adventure. The sickness took her, but the one-to-one classes where non-refundable, so off we went for my solo lesson (after breakfast at Cafe Alabama obviously).
I will be brief in terms of my surfing lesson. Having only had two teachers in my life, I have little basis for comparison, but I will say that my experience in Portugal was far, far better, even though back then we took a group-class. The instructor here, albeit being a one-to-one class, and albeit keeping tabs on me, gave me little pointers on improving my form, or any pointers at all. He did push my limits harder, which was good, but I think it went a bit far. That and the fact that the waves in San Sebastian were fairly incessant and brutal made for an intense two hours. When wiping out, the waves seemed to keep crashing above my head, and I would struggle to resurface for air. One moment stands out; after a brief glide over a wave, I lost my balance and fell into the water. Almost as soon as I popped back up for air another wave smashed into me, and the current underwater battered my body and I lost my sense of where was up. My instincts kicked in (I do pride myself in them) and I remembered my most sacred of under-water rules: if you lose your sense of up or down, blow some bubbles out and follow them up-up-up. I opened my eyes, and saw bubbles all around as the series of waves continued to crash over me and thrash me around. I was also terrified the board would swing round and hit me on the head, so I kept pushing it away from me, expending even more air and energy. Although I never feared for my life (there were life-guards every 10m spread across the beach) I remember thinking: “Gonna run out of air pretty soon. Might pass out. That’s gonna suck.” I held my breath until I felt my lungs were burning, pulled myself onto my board - at the time the only way I felt I could keep afloat - and paddled as hard as I could, breath rasping in the back of my throat, back to shore. Slowing my heart-rate was hard, as was catching my breath, and I had to wave the instructor over and ask him for a break. The adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I felt shaky, upset, and in the classic vein of an anxious-perfectionist person, convinced that it was all my fault and that I was a terrible student.
I got back in the water almost straight away, even if I didn’t go out quite as deep. I will also definitely surf again. But that experience has stuck with me, and so I’ve picked up a couple more rules for moments like these. If the series of waves after you wipe out is overwhelming you, lie your belly flat on the surf board and let them take you to shore. It might seem like the waves are going to crash over you and wipe-you out again, but trust me when I say they will guide you to the safety of land. As much as this seems obvious now when I was underwater all I could think about was getting onto the board and paddling against the waves and towards the deeper ocean, where I could see people sitting on surfboards on calm, flat water.
I guess what I learned from the lesson in San Sebastian was that, at the end of the day, you’re pretty much alone in the water, and you need to be safe. Even close to shore waves (and the currents they create) are powerful so knowing your limits is important, as is adhering to them. This is the reason I feel I was disappointed in my instructor: he did not seem to cater the class to my level at all, and although I appreciate being pushed, when your student is struggling to keep her head above water and has a bit of a scare, it’s your job to take things down a notch, rather than explaining why “panicking less” next time would be better (something about oxygen consumption in the brain), followed by “right, let’s get back at it, shall we?”
After a lounge in the sun to settle my nerves, GC and I went on another little hiking adventure: Urgull Mendina. A little hill which was accessible and only required a couple hours out of the day for the most casual walkers of us all. Having the open ocean all around was absolutely blissful to me, topped by a small bar part-way up where it's worth having a sit-sit-down and a cold drink. It was dreamy: ocean all around, warm breeze in my hair, sun setting on the horizon… My soul restoration was complete.
Dinner that evening was at Simiri. We ordered the most mouth-watering risotto I have ever tasted, and these little fish-croquets which were perfectly fried and perfectly tasty. I’d recommend the place as more of a tapas-based casual dinner as the sit-down area was small and more of a stools-and-tables vibe rather than a traditional sit-down restaurant vibe. Still absolutely enjoyable, still absolutely fun, still absolutely delicious. Since GC was still feeling a little unwell, I honourably and selflessly ate her substantial leftovers at dinner, and I have to say I did not feel fabulous at all (no regrets though).
We had a beautiful wander along the beach which was lit-up and speckled with people enjoying the warm water (it was unnaturally warm) and to my absolute surprise, as we noticed throughout our stay in San Seb, everyone exhibited absolute respect for their surroundings and the people around them. This place is an absolute gem guys, and I plan on being back. A lot.Read more
SpainBasque CountrySan SebastiánJaialai43°19’11” N 1°57’60” W
June 17, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C
The main reason GC and I had ventured to San Sebastian was the firmly established tradition of GC refusing to spend a single one of her birthday’s in the UK. I can’t say I find the idea a bad one (although that endorsement means very little coming from me since I’ll use the anniversary of eating a dorito chip as a reason to travel). Anyway, today was that day, and GC had decided to, without any form of wandering, turn off all forms of alarms. We ended up sleeping in far far longer than I would have liked to: I’m a “have-to-do-everything-see-everything-eat-everything” kind of travelling companion, and although I do try and dilute this a little when travelling with calmer friends, it still niggles me to waste the day away. However, it was GC’s birthday, and so today was about making sure she was happy. First on the list? I had looked up a brunch place called Cafe Alabama. Bowls of coconut yoghurt topped with fruit and sprinkled with chia seeds and all other sorts of things I vaguely know exist but never really eat. Guys, it sounds so pretentious, but it is definitely not. It’s two absolutely down-to-earth guys running the place, and the cafe itself is unassuming, very quaint, and pleasant to sit at. They had an absolutely incredible breakfast deal which, once again, made me question the business plans of the food industry in the area, and it was quality that far, far, exceeded what we paid. I had four or five other breakfast spots listed on my phone for the rest of our stay. We did not go to a single other breakfast place, and I do not hesitate to knight Cafe Alabama my one-and-only breakfast spot for whenever I might be back in San Sebastian.
We then followed onto one of the recommendations we’d got from our friendly local guides: Pasaia. A little town which was very local, quieter and less touristy - and only took a half hour walk to get to. I have to say… We were underwhelmed. The town was very, very quiet. The streets were empty, shops and restaurants shut, and, to be perfectly honest, I did not feel we were welcome at all. We picked up our pace a little, and got to a little dock-area, with beautiful views across the sea and a breeze to go with them. Here is where it got good: I saw what looked like a little coastal path, and (immediately) decided it had to be done. A group of tourists who were walking down it told us cheerfully that it was an easy hour or so walk which took you along the coastal cliffs all the way back to San Sebastian - it could not have been more perfect. A look in my eyes which I assume GC found impossible to say no to had us making our way up the mountain stone-steps and onto an absolute stunner of a walk. I would do this walk over and over again if the weather was right, and with the sun blazing and blue-steeped skies above us it was an absolute dream.
Taking endless photographs along the way as GC powered on ahead (on what mission, I do not know) I was surprised when she suddenly jerked to a stop. She turned to me, panic all over her face, and gestured at me to run.
“Why?”
“Just do it!!”
Being well versed in all horror, thriller and action-tropes, I was not about to get into a debate about whether or not I should run only to be interrupted mid-sassy-sentence by a rabid werewolf/crazy axe-person/murderous spirit. So, as GC sprinted off ahead, I tucked my camera under my arm and sprinted on behind her.
Once a safe distance from the threat, GC stopped, gasping for breath because she is horribly unfit, and me, also gasping for breath because I absolutely hate running of any kind.
“What was that?!”
GC looked at me, serious.
“There were two naked men. I have no idea what they were doing, but it looked super dodgy.”
I looked at her quizzically, because two men banging is by no means something to be afraid of. If they were taken up with overwhelming passion after the beautiful coastal walk, heck, go for it, have a fab time. GC, however, shook her head, and implied there was a ritualistic murder occurring, with bodies that she hadn’t seen but knew were there, and that we could have been the next victims. I shrugged. Maybe. I was still very much of the belief that those two men were very much just enjoying each other, and when nothing appeared in the papers (or should I say my google searches) for the rest of the week I made sure GC knew she was absolutely mental.
We were having dinner in the eastern part of Don Ostia, and a little pre-dinner explore revealed a quieter part of town. Our chosen restaurant that night, Tedone, was another win. A sustainable, eco-orientated, vegan-friendly restaurant: small, cosy, with a modest seasonal menu to match its sustainability ethics. It felt very pleasant to be sat comfortably on an outside table without feeling like we were swimming in and out of a thousand and one conversations, so if you want a bit of peace and quiet away from the hustle and bustle, come here. And if not, come here anyway, because it’s amazing. I had a fish that was absolutely out of this world (I don’t know if I’ve been starved of fresh sea-food so I’m just revelling in it all, but boy oh boy). It flaked like butter, was coated in the freshest olive-oil I have had in a while, and I would have had it twice over had I not known it would make me sick. Still, I considered it. For desert we had a date elsewhere: La Viña, which boasted the best cheesecake in all of San Sebastian. Content and with full bellies we shuffled off to try it out.
If Tedone was a peaceful water-lily pond, La Viña was a NYC stock-market floor. It was rammed, so it you want to visit, be prepared. Bar-service was speedy and friendly though, so GC and I soon had cheesecake in hand. It was good, but it felt more like a cheesecake-flan fusion rather than the NY-cheesecake that’s so popular in London. Still worth a try though, and despite it being so busy, the atmosphere, as ever in Sab Seb, was happy, friendly and absolutely comfortable to be amongst.Read more
SpainBasque CountrySan SebastiánJaialai43°19’11” N 1°57’60” W
June 16, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C
Another Monday, another plane to catch. GC and I compromised about the time we wanted to get into the airport, since, as usual, I am the only mad-person amongst my friends who enjoys the thrill of pulling up to my gate half-hour before departure. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, and it has caused me stress, tears, many sprints across the airport, and one missed flight. Yet somehow, I can’t help myself if I’m travelling alone. So under the watchful eye of my travel companion we arrived with the recommended two hours to spare, and got on the flight stress-free.
Now, from London there are no direct flights to San Sebastian, so we had decided to catch a flight to Bilbao, and take a leisurely hour-and-a-bit-ish coach into San Sebastian (€17 for a one-way ticket). The coach-journey was a beaut, but busy. If you’re a bit of a nervous traveller, or just have a bit of an aversion to strangers like I do, it’s worth getting onto the coach earlier rather than later. They sit in the station for a while, so it’s just a matter of hopping on and grabbing seats with your travelling partners. If it’s busy you can always wait for the next one; a half hour isn’t much if you’d be more comfortable next to someone you know, and it is a lengthy ride so definitely something to consider. So I stared out the window at views which made me want to visit every inch of the north of Spain and hike my way around each mountain-top. Filled with lush green expanses, it had the aura of a tropical rainforest: it wasn’t the Spain I’m used to, and I absolutely loved it.
We pulled in at San Seb bus station, and trundled on over to our hostel. I was nervous. I was very nervous. I am very much a person who likes cleanliness and privacy, and ‘hostel’ is not a word that brings those to mind. GC assured me that she’d done her research, we had a private room, and the reviews were all great. Nevertheless the word had baited my anxiety, and I could feel it shifting about, ready to pounce. Turns out, I had zero reason to worry.
Pension Ibai is a place I would definitely recommend. Slap-bang in the middle of town, its location could literally not be more central. The only downside to this is potentially the noise, but it’s towards the edge of the tiny San Sebastian heart, so although it’s not going to be chirping grasshoppers and the soft sea-breeze, it’s not a deal-breaker - and take this from someone who is a very light, very anxious sleeper. In terms of cleanliness? Absolutely spotless. I have literally showered in friends’ places which have caused me much more ew-factor. It essentially felt much more like a bed & breakfast (minus the breakfast) and we were both very happy with choices made.
Next on our list was food: we were absolutely starving. A little wander seemed to suggest that most pintos bars in the area seemed to have a basic-fee of €2.50 per pinxo. Ideal. The wander also revealed that it was foodie-madness all day every day over here, and so it was rammed wherever we went. I have to say though, although I did get a little worked up, it wasn’t a horribly unpleasant kinda busy, like when you are pressed against you third sweaty armpit on the Victoria line at 7:30am. Everyone was chipper, chatting, enjoying food and wine, and I cannot emphasise enough how much this atmosphere permeates the entire the area. Even the youths (I seem to have become a judgemental 50 year-old real quick) were polite, seemed happy and content, and were never, not once, intimidating. As a woman, let me tell you that this is unusual - particularly at night - so this was a massive plus on the San Sebastian excellence list.
We settled on a place called Atari, and as we waited for a table to free up a group of locals anointed themselves our tour-guides and began a friendly yet heated discussion amongst themselves about what the best order to do things would be for us. They were kind, and funny, but GC and I were both fading fast due to hunger and were glad when a waitress gestured us over to our table. GC and I exchanged a relieved glance, fully recognising the anti-social tendencies in each other which, coupled with a growing hunger, made us two potential psychopaths in a very crowded place.
Fed, watered, and posing less of a risk to the locals around us, GC and I did a little exploring. We headed to a promising ice-cream stall with popsicles which looked fresh, fruity and delicious. The disappointment was real. Whether it was the heat (it wasn’t) or the wind (I genuinely almost flew away) the ice-lollies started to melt into a goop-slobber-like substance that was absolutely out of control what with the hurricane around us. As it splattered onto out faces, our hair, and GC’s very white knitted jumper, we binned them just half-way through and and discussed in lengthy fascination what the contents of the ice-cream goop might have been.
Dinner. Dinner guys. I could go on, and on, and on about dinner, and I will name the restaurant, albeit reluctantly, because I just don’t want it to get any busier. Gandarias. We had booked a table that morning, and it wasn’t until the end of the holiday that we realised how lucky we’d been to get a spot on such short-notice. Gandarias is popular. And for an absolutely good reason. The food, and I do not say this lightly, was spectacular. I have had a lot of food, in a lot of places. I’m not a picky eater, but I am jealous with my praise: Gandarias gets it all. It is not flashy and the wait staff is genuinely friendly. When I was torn about what wine to get, they suggested I get a bottle since it was much more cost-effective. When I said I wouldn’t be able to finish it (GC is not a wine drinker) he looked at me, with friendly surprise at how easy to solve my problem was, and said: “pues te la llevas a casa!” (“Just take it home!”). How absolutely chill is that? How completely and utterly unpretentious. I loved it.
In terms of food GC and I shared one of the best salads I have ever had, and I tend to find salads boring, over-dressed and generally a chore to eat. This one had warm seafood scattered over it, this beautiful balsamic glaze in perfect proportion to the food, not too many leaves and oh the most delicious tomatoes ever. We devoured it in minutes, and as we were mulling over whether to straight-up order another, the clams arrived. Another mouth-watering dish, although very rich. We greedily soaked up the leftover sauce with bread - not something I usually feel like doing, but boy-oh-boy was it delicious. For the pièce de resistance GC and I had both got this monster-steak with the best fries I have ever had (and I don’t usually like fries either) and it was perfectly under-cooked, perfectly juicy, and everything I could ever hope for in a steak. I can’t remember the desert, to be honest, I’m not even sure we had any (although that seems highly unlikely). To top it all, the price-tag? Wildly reasonable, to the point I don’t understand how they make a profit. It was so affordable that GC and I went to bed absolutely ecstatic knowing we could have meals of that caliber every night, and not have our accounts dip dangerously into the dreaded red numbers.Read more
