I stepped off the train at 6.30am, hungry and fatigued. This was enhanced by the fact I had to walk past the first class carriage as they all consumed their upmarket breakfast. We had peanuts. As Hugo and I walked out the front of the station, clearly disoriented, we met an American girl named Jen whose hostel was apparently in close proximity to ours in the old quarter of town
As we quickly discovered, absolutely no one is awake at 6.30am in San Sebastian. In fact, the first people we encountered, were yet to get to sleep. It was a hilarious encounter with a group of locals, one of whom was wearing a garbage bag as clothing.. After I told them we were from Australia, the garbage bag clad guy responded by saying “Why are you here then?” This was followed by acting out of every single stereotype they knew about Australia, including ALL the wildlife. I was genuinely impressed with their knowledge.
Hugo and I headed to our hostel. As we guessed it was way too early to check in so we shed our backpacks and headed to the beach for an early morning swim. On the way, we stopped in at a bakery and scored a crossiant and a coffee for 2 euro. Being the first customers of the day, we had a chat to the lady. Now she gives us free stuff every time we go in there. Yay!
I don’t think I could have asked for anything more than an early morning swim after that train trip. It was a truly magic moment as the sun came up as I sprinted down into the saltwater. I haven’t felt that refreshed in a long time. I think both my mind and body were ready for a change of pace and for me, the ocean is the perfect host for that change. A few hours were spent in a daze as Hugo and I both dug holes in the sand and fell in and out of sleep as the sun climbed higher into the sky. We noticed that the surf was dead flat but I was too tired and content to care. It was decided eventually that we head back to check in to our hostel.
Our hostel is located in the old quarter of San Sebastian, typically European with it’s laneways. The whole area is littered with bars and hostels which makes for a great atmosphere at night...especially when Espana play.
I was completely convinced that I would not go out that night. The allure of this party town quickly changed that. After a less than conventional dinner of chicken, pumpkin, mushrooms and capsicum (which, unbeknownst to us, would be the last time we would be able to cook in San Sebastian) and tense few games of 500, we headed out to see what San Sebastian had to offer after the sun goes down. We paid 10 euro to go on a pub crawl and it was definitely value for money as the bartender at the first bar was practically throwing shots at me. It was an enjoyable first night that ended at about 5am. Checkout was at 9am. Damn. To make matters worse, Hugo couldn’t find his camera. Luckily Jen was staying in a hostel that still had room. We dragged ourselves through the old quarter’s streets, which are incredibly easy to get lost in, until we found it.
The day then went pear shaped. We got to our hostel, quickly discovered the two “kitchens” only have a fridge, a sink and a spot where the stove USED to be. I mean, can you even call that a kitchen?
“Raw food it is”
“Yep. I’m getting some carrots” replied Hugo
So of course, Hugo needed money to buy some more food. Off to the ATM. Everything seemed fine as Hugo went to withdraw 300 euro. Until the money didn’t come out...
“Maybe you should try it again?” I suggested
“Yeah. Ok”
Again, no money. At this point in time, it seemed Hugo had lost his camera, at least 100 photos and 600 euro all within a couple of hours. I don’t know how he wasn’t already crying. I probably would have been. I tried to reassure him with the promise of surf. It seemed to work. We headed to Zurriola, the surf beach at San Sebastian in the hope of finally having the surf that has thus far eluded us. After talking with a few locals in lots of broken English and broken Spanish and copious amounts of searching for second hand boards, we decided to wait till Saturday and hire a board instead. I told myself I would have an early night to be fresh for the surf the next day, to no avail.
In typical San Sebastian style, we drank in the company of fellow Aussies and some Americans on the roof terrace of our hostel, and then headed out for yet another big night
As the time finally came to hit the water, our American friend Jen must have thought I was bordering on insanity. Maybe it was the twitching, maybe the high pitched voice. I can’t be sure. The feeling as I did the first duckdive was indescribable. Hugo and I couldn’t wipe the smile off our faces. I was running only on adrenaline, it was midday and the only food I had consumed that morning was one carrot.
After 3 hours, the adrenaline finally fizzled out and I was left with jelly for arms and legs. I pushed on for another 15 minutes but after two months of no surfing, you can’t help but be a little unfit. Still on a high from the surf, I skipped and jumped over to Hugo as he got out of the surf. He was limping. Oh God.
“I think I tweaked my knee”
What I couldn’t decide if he was going to laugh or cry. Or just go home. Anyone who knows Hugo knows that it’s pretty hard to keep him down for long, if at all. In all our years of friendship, I don’t actually think I’ve seen him angry. As he hobbled up the beach, I managed to step on glass. It must have been a sight. Two guys, dressed in wetsuits, hobbling down the street. Jen was also unsure whether to laugh at our bad luck or not.
Hugo hobbled back to the hostel, and spent the afternoon icing his knee. I headed up to pay a visit to the local Jesus, who stands overlooking the whole town. It was agreed that it is definitely a judging pose. I did the walk with two Australian guys who spent the whole walk weighing up the pros and cons of having a “tactical spew.” Interesting conversation topic. The panoramic views of the town and the Bay of Biscay were definitely worth the walk. Although, Dave and Hugo will be disappointed to discover that I did not utilise the panorama option on my camera.
That night brought with it the football. Spain vs Paraguay. The atmosphere was phenomenal. The excitement culminated into nervous energy in the last few hours before the game. A group of us ate tapas, drank beer and cheered along with the Spanish as they scored and eventually won. Made for a big night.
The next few days have followed the same pattern. Wake late, eat something that doesn’t involve cooking, spend a few hours at the beach and wander the streets of the old quarter. Hugo invested 3 euro on a walking stick which has benefited him greatly. As you would expect, he receives his fair share of weird looks, especially in bars and clubs.
Yesterday was 4th of July. Consequently we had to endure “Born in the USA” from Jen’s computer and went to a 4th July party with all you can eat and drink for two hours.It must have been at least a 90% Australian crowd I starved myself all day and attempted to consume enough food to see me through all of today. Logic was good until I put it into practice.
I’m about to pay another visit to Jesus with Jen, as it was cloudy the last time I said Hola. Tomorrow we head to Bilbao for a night or two, then to Pamplona where Hugo will certainly not be running the bulls. As for me, I’m yet to decide but after all the stories I’m tempted to dress up as a girl. (Girls aren’t allowed to run for cultural reasons). That’s all I can think of right now as I got home at 7am and only slept till 9am. Brain function is limited. Till next time, Hola!
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