6/28/17
San Sebastian
We had a rugged bus ride from San Vicente De La
Barquera, outside Comillas, to San Sebastian. The bus let about 11:15 AM and
got to San Sebastian around 4:40-5:00 PM, actually less duration than our
previous journey but this one went without a significant rest break. Luckily I
noticed the tiny toilet facility adjacent to the back door of the bus, truly a
water closet, and relieved myself at the halfway point. We both felt hammered by
the trip. Reed is sleeping off the effects in his bedroom in Daniel’s very nice
apartment of General Artexte street, as I write these notes.
As we departed the San Sebastian bus station, an
odd-looking Englishman seemed to observe our efforts to hail a cab. He asked
where are you going. I answered “Gros,” the name of our neighborhood and the
location of Daniel’s apartment. He pointed down the street and to the right,
saying, “That’s just over there.” I nodded but knew that we didn’t feel strong
enough to drag our suitcases several blocks, even if just around the corner.
That information proved helpful when we got our cab just a few moments later.
The cabbie seemed to be taking us on a circuitous route, in a direction
opposite from the Englishman’s instructions. I spoke in Spanish in the form of
a question, “estamos en Gros, no es muy lejos de aqui?” The cabbie then began
extolling the virtues of the neighborhood where he had turned left instead of
right. He sounded like the President of the San Sebastian Chamber of Commerce.
As we departed the cab, he said, “habla bien el español.” I liked hearing the
praise; “you speak Spanish well,” despite any ulterior motive. I would get the
same compliment from a waiter a few hours later. I’m already liking these Basques!
A side note… made a blog entry in johntheoreport, my Google blog, entitled
“El Papa Knows Best,” a commentary on Pope Francis talking about the
fragmentation and constant movement of modern life. He observed the restless
movement of modern life can combine with a kind of inert inner life. These
ideas are very McLuhaneque. I used a quote from “McLuhan,” Janine Marchssault’s
biography of the media guru. McLuhan asserts the tendency for a human
deadening, a kind of numbness or amputation, the protective process needed as a
“result of wearing all of mankind on our skin.” The blog hits have actually
increased in Europe, especially with the entry related to Gaudi and La Sagrada
Familia in Barcelona. This motivated me to blog whenever possible and I achieved
an average of one blog entry per week while on European vacation—using Reed’s
iPad.
Daniel, our host, greeted us a the door of the
apartment building with his young daughter. Daniel has three kids. He spent a
high school year abroad in Lampasas, Texas! I thought he might complain of
culture shock, in the arid expanse of Texas, but just the opposite. He’s fond
of his Lampasas family and thinks of his host family as his “American parents.”
His daughter already speaks Spanish and French and he’s sending them to “American
camp,” a place near Madrid, to learn English. Daniel works for a German
company, very much a globetrotter, and obviously understands the benefits of
being a world citizen in today’s environment. Daniel explained how we get
in-and-out of the apartment using a cellphone to trigger the Dana-lock system,
a high tech stretch for me, a push almost too-far into a Kafkaesque aesthetic,
or would that be Orwellian…?
Reed and I took off from the apartment around 9:15
PM. We found a restaurant/tapas bar—Bodega Donostiarra—with some historical
significance, recommended by Rick Steves, of course.
There was something of a crowd on hand, probably a
near permanent state of affairs when Mr. Steves blesses your place of business.
Due to my near exhaustion from the bus ride, I moved in more assertively than
usual and took a place at the crowded bar. Surprisingly the bar maid’s eye
surveyed us and we got drinks quickly. She almost attributed some authority to our
arrival, probably good feedback on showing some confidence in these situations,
and told us we would get a table before long. “How?” I wondered. Miracle of
miracles… it happened. A space opened up and a somewhat chubby waiter, seemed
like a local guy, got us a table quickly. And this waiter later told me “habla
bien el español!”
An Aussie couple, our next table neighbors, were in
our general age range. Mark, the guy, seemed somewhat younger than his wife.
She was a German from Munich named Andrea. Strangely, everybody must seem
younger than Mark, a ruggedly handsome buy with tanned skin, a balding head and
masculine presences. Mark, something of a Renaissance man, seemed to know
everything under the sun—a cook, a wine connoisseur, lover of travel, knowledgeable
of European capitals, speaks French, and reads Somerset Maugham and Joseph
Conrad. My first thought—they must have a lot of time on their hands down there
in Australia. They were from Brisbane, in Queensland, on the northern side of
Australia, from what I could gather. They were fun people and Mark even knew
the sport of surfing. This claim made sense given his Crocodile Dundee looks
and easygoing smile. And San Sebastian is a surfer destination. With Andrea’s
German roots, the couple seemed well established, the European landscape nailed
down for their enjoyment. Our conversation flowed so genially Reed suggested
they visit him during his Montana sojourns in the early fall. They had never
been to the USA.
Rain started falling as we made our midnight exit.
We found General Artexte street with Mr. Google’s help. The Dana-lock clicked
open and we entered the apartment.
I had called Mona earlier—and now I called brother
in California and parents, back in New York, knowing it was still a decent hour
on East and West coasts. I went to bed at 1:30 AM, relieved to be past the bus
extravaganzas.
travel day-- 6/28/17
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