Arrival
Flying into San Sebastian, a giant full moon guided us into a wide circle around the bay, the blue-gray water dotted with a hundred fishing boats. Climbing down off of the passenger stairway, the sun was just rising over Donostia (this is Basque country and Donostia is the Basque name for San Sebastian), a dramatic sweep of clouds over the distant mountains painted shades of gold and red. An auspicious welcome indeed.
The city is greener and more lush than I expected. After the intriguing Gothic flatscape of Barcelona with its gray stones and narrow lanes, seeing verdant trees, rolling hills, a wide river and the sea was a welcome respite.
Again, I’ve found my home in the old part of the city. This time it’s called Parte Vieja. I have found that old town sections of a city are much more picaresque, more storied, and will often transport me to another time. The architecture connects me directly with the township’s history. I become part of the continuum. I am in context.
Lesson du jour. Lesson al dia. I need to plan my flights to land within an hour of check-in time at my apartment (as opposed to landing at eight in the morning and not being able to check in until noon). Having to sit in a café for hours, drowning in cups of coffee con leche (café crème in Paris), is appealing – the first time. I wait for my host to show up. No wifi to communicate, so I hope for the best.
I hadn't eaten in a few hours so while I was waiting I opted for a simple ham, cheese and egg breakfast sandwich. Actually, it was all she could offer at the time besides a cafe con leche. Place was called Chocolateria Santa Lucia, right on the outside border of Parte Veija, butting up against the edge of modern San Sebastian. The sandwich arrived with a little heart cut out of the top slice of bread so that the egg yolk poked out like a small, golden heart. The cutout lay next to egg. I love attention to detail like this, as it turns a simple experience into something much more satisfying.
After a frenetic and overcrowded week in Barcelona with the annual street fair called La Merce in town, I make the choice to let go of packing my schedule full of stuff to do and things to see. Even places to eat. Nothing. Wide open space. Room to breathe. Take it all in. Leave “what’s next” to be a surprise. Although a couple of times this week, I do knock on the hallowed and virtual doors of three-star Michelin restaurant Arzak, a culinary mecca for the sophisticated palate, asking humbly for a table sometime in the next few days. Nada. No way. Right out of Wizard of Oz when Dorothy pulls the long cord, ringing the doorbell of the Emerald City. “Who rang that bell?!” As if having rung the bell was a rude interruption. We’ll see if I can get past the gatekeeper.
When I was in mid-planning stage for what was to be my next culinary tour, San Sebastian represented the heart of the two week tour, more so than Bordeaux or Barcelona. Seriously, this little former fishing village sports no less than sixteen Michelin stars. More, in fact, per square meter, than any other city. Big deal, right? Maybe. Michelin is one measure of many, but you can’t argue with the fact that this part of Spain is home to a very serious culinary culture.
So, have I shot myself in the foot by not making reservations ahead of time? Will I be able to partake in the good stuff if I just wander the streets and remain open to whatever’s next? Perhaps some discernment is in order. Although I’m a tad Pintxo’d out after Barcelona, San Sebastian Pintxo’s are supposed to be off the charts. Maybe I can insert myself into a structured Crawl and meet a few hungry expats. Possibly I could find a Sidreria (traditional Basque cider house) and find out firsthand if the hullaballoo was accurate; that these places are an extraordinary and truly Basque Country experience. Maybe I can connect with someone who knows someone who can get me into a cooking class or dinner at a local Txoko (male-run gastronomy societies much like our Elks or Masons but based around wine and cooking).
These three food-happenings (Pintxos Crawl, Sidreria, Txoco cooking class) were part of the original tour plan. I’d spent hours figuring out what to do while in San Sebastian, trading lots of emails back and forth with a local company (that I fell completely in love with) called (at this writing) San Sebastian Foods (they have since changed their name to Mimo Foods). It would be nice to at least get a taste of what was to be.
No voting, though, in San Sebastian. Sorry, this one’s mine. Me. Me. Me. But I will send pics and report my food-findings and write about my foodscapades.
Stay frosty.
UPDATE: I opted for the Pintxos Crawl and really glad I did. Holy cats was that fun. We lucked out, too, because our guide was a local girl. Basque through and through, she grew up in Parte Vieja, the old town section, where the crawl happened. She knew all the chefs and shop owners, told great stories, and took us to some of HER favorite places.
I will do a comprehensive report on the crawl in my next post.
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