Trifter

Only problem was, the bus did not exactly ‘career’ into the back of the car. It merely kissed it. Barely scratched it.

Carnage ensued and the whole town of San Sebastian had come to a stand-still. I decided it would be quicker (and possibly safer) to alight at this involuntary stop. ’Bienvenido’ to the Basque Country!

I would not call this a bad experience, not at all. Quite amusing really. Particularly when, in the midst of his bull-like rage, the angry Spaniard could not untangle his trailing foot from the seat belt he had been wearing as he exited the car. He was almost willing to leave his leg behind as a a sacrifice, he was so angry.

Still, a great place to explore and my mirth would not end with other people’s travel fury.

As you walk around the streets of the old town, do not be surprised to see trickles of fluid passing through the cobbled streets. No doubt some spilt beer, was my first reaction. However, I would later discover many children with their clothes hauled down by rushing parents, eager for their offspring to unleash the latest amount of urine from within. That explained the wet ground when it had not rained here in weeks.

Still, if at any stage you happen to have the misfortune of the aforementioned splash up onto your leg then fear not- there is help at hand because there are sure to be plenty of tissues lying around. The locals and the tourists (I’m not quite sure which is which as 99% of the tourists seem to be Spanish too) are never slow in tossing a used tissue onto the floor.

Remarkably, though, San Sebastian is a clean place. The loose tissues keeping the cleaning men busy throughout the day but they are diligent.

How would you know you were in Spain did i hear you say? Well, a quick glance at the number of Chrissy Waddle style mullets would soon tell you exactly which part of the world you are in. However, I will say this- they can’t half make the mullet look very cool!

A slightly less cool trait is the locals do have a penchant for spitting. Adults and children alike are, almost, encouraged to empty the contents of their mouth whenever they so choose. Sometimes it seems like they are in competition with each other, both for frequency, volume and distance.

Finally, when buying a postcard you will have to buy your stamp separately. Bit of a bummer this, I know, but you soon get used to it. However, don’t try looking for a stamp between two and four in the afternoon as the only place you can buy them is a tobacconist and, you guessed it, they are closed for a couple of hours every afternoon. Buy a postcard, sure, but how dare you have the cheek to want to send it mid-afternoon when the rest of San sebastian want to… well… rest!

Still, great sunset, great food, great place. Beats Margate any day.