6/29/17
San
Sebastian
Our apartment on General Artexte is located close
to a great breakfast place, Hogar Dulce Hogar, and enjoyed eggs, ham, and slice
of French bread and then ordered a huge chocolate croissant. Good thing we’ve
walked 4.7 miles since then!
Headed back to the beach and first sight we
encountered was the Morena Body Surfer, La
Sirena, the Mermaid, San Sebastian’s answer to the Girl from Ipanema, in
her wetsuit with the blue stripe. I even tried to compose a song to capture her
mysterious smile and elusive beauty. She spoke to a guy, maybe her husband or
boyfriend, and then dashed off with a shake of the thick, dark hair. She ran
down the beach to the surf with swim fins in hand. The wind blew wildly and the
surf churned choppy as a Cuisinart, large and frequent curls breaking from the
surface and racing to the shoreline. This was not a day for amateurs.
Reed and I walked down the La Concha beach and
noticed a few brave surfers atop their boards and bobbing in the choppy surf. I
later learned this beach is considered the most beautiful in Europe! A few surf
schools dotted the beach. Young kids in wetsuits sat in a circle listening to
their instructors. I hoped the message for the day was “No surfing today.” I
imagined the kids feeling heavy anxious thoughts at encountering this surf even
if the surf professor requested progress just a few feet from the shoreline.
Who did we encounter next, but the Morena Body
Surfer with her gorgeous firm body contour pressing against the wetsuit with
the blue stripe. She stretched backward, arching her back. She lifted her arms
back behind her head to the sand, the yoga move highlighting her firm torso and
generous breasts, as if to amaze us modest humans even further with her
perfection. I rallied myself to say something in Spanish. Nodding to the
bellicose ocean, I muttered, “Es peligro, no?” La Sirena just smiled
provocatively and shrugged, as if to say, “That goes with the territory.” And
this was a watery territory indeed.
Reed and I continued our journey across the sand
moving to a sea wall, a beautiful expense of jetty right there in the middle of
the city. The amazing surf broke over the wall. A larger than expected breaker
flew over the rock wall and my shirt.
Inspired by the rich vistas and proximity of both
urban and natural worlds we moved into the Old Town for a modern man’s attempt
at adventure-- shopping. I impulsively bought a pocketknife for 13 Euros. I’ve
favored wood handled knives ever since I purchased a simple knife in the
English countryside as a 22 year old college graduate in 1972. The basic knife
had limited usefulness but a simple aesthetic, a kind of home-made quality. I
have the knife in Texas but this purchase did not work to rekindle the memory.
I regretted the decision almost as soon as it was made and left the knife in
our Paris hotel room as an offering to the travel gods.
Our walk continued and we found ourselves at a
second San Sebastian beach, this one only slightly less picturesque by being
more protected from the “mar abierta,” the open sea and more suitable for the
casual bather. I noticed a large-limbed woman with a bit of the Olympian in her
strong strokes as she pulled through the shore break out toward a swimmer’s
platform several hundred years into the ocean. A single man stood on the beach
and composed a long message in the sand, which I captured with my camera. We
made our way to the Amara Train Station—the departure point for the “topo,” the
mole, the nickname for the train that carries travelers to Hendaye, France.
We got the information for Saturday’s train trip to
Hendaye—our venture into France—and walked back to the Gros neighborhood. We
found a neighborhood bar/restaurant, the kind I was longing for, where the menu
includes hearty entrees like garbanzo beans (Reed ordered) and “lentejas,” or
lentils, (I ordered) and you get a break from the rich tapas, and the many pulpo
dishes we experienced across Spain. I had so much pulpo on this trip I wondered
if suckers would start growing out of my forearms. Reed’s garbanzos looked
better than my lentils but I may have won the second course with a roasted
chicken with salad. Though we never experienced one of the four star
restaurants, our landlord Daniel said San Sebastian had more four star restaurants
than any city in the world (and the Basques are known for their exquisite
cuisine) but nourishing, healthy fare nevertheless.
Daniel
told us about the Laundromat on General Artexte and we would have clean clothes
for our entry, or re-entry, to the fabled land of France, the kind of place
that just begs for a spotless shirt. At
this early juncture were unaware of the stresses four train changes (San
Sebastian/Hendaye/Bordeaux/St. Pierre des Cor/Amboise) will exert on even the most sparkling garment.
travel day-- 6/29/17
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