A Week of Highs and Lows

Anna, my wife, had been sneezing for the last five hours; peppering the dashboard with mucus (we even had to make an unscheduled pit stop to buy a jumbo packet of tissues)... I was amazed that such a small head could contain so much moisture. Hay fever? An allergy? I don't know what it was, except very irritating. Every sneeze was accompanied by a shrill scream, which was not doing my tinnitus any favours and did not bode well for our summer holiday. 

We had always found the notion of driving down to Spain very romantic, although with all the sneezing and moist tissues, the romance was limited. We were on our way to the Basque Country; San Sebastian. Five hours south, hit the Pyrenees, hang a right, cross the border, bingo! 

When we arrived, I was all ready to plonk myself on the beautiful La Concha beach, drink copious amounts of sangria and stuff a variety of pintxos into me moosh. However, Anna informed me our hotel was a little bit out of town. Fifty minutes later, having driven along some terrifying mountainous roads, with angry Spaniards on my tail beeping their horns, and me trying to avoid lycra-clad cyclists travelling two/three abreast, we arrived at our lodgings. I peeled my hands off the steering wheel.

To say the hotel was isolated would be an understatement. Any thoughts of enjoying the nightlife of San Sebastian were soon banished and our sense of disappointment was enhanced when we saw the swimming pool was half empty with a layer of decaying flora and fauna in the bottom. I tried to put a positive spin on things, 'Well at least you haven't sneezed for half an hour'. 

However, we were given a boost when we discovered we could have a slap-up three course meal, with bottle of red, for twenty euros...every cloud. 

Our attic room was very pleasant, except there was only one small window at floor level, so if you wanted to enjoy the spectacular mountain views, you had to lie on the ground. There was a certain Anne Frank vibe about the place. 

I was surprised how big San Sebastian is and I had to call on all my ninja skills to traverse the bustling centre, trying to find a subterranean carpark; Anna didn't help by contradicting the sat-nav and confusing her left and right (I don't know if Spanish cars are bigger or their parking spaces smaller, but squeezing into a space without losing a wing mirror was a feat and then the agility of a contortionist was needed to extricate oneself from the vehicle). 

During the week we visited four towns on the northern coast; all with golden sand, picture-postcard buildings set against the backdrop of the Pyrenees. But San Sebastian was the most dramatic; with its curved beaches forming the picturesque bay. After wandering around the old town, we had an ad hoc picnic on the seafront, with some ham and cheese which had been sweating in the back of the car for four days, followed by a boat trip around the bay, stopping off at the island of Santa Clara, from which we drank in the panoramic view of the Basque city in all its glory. (Note to self; dicky ham and boat trips - not a good combination). 

Pamplona is only 80 minutes drive from the coast, so we braved the mountain roads again and spent an enjoyable day meandering around the city centre, stopping for lubrication and pintxos every 30 minutes. I became obsessed by the running of the bulls (being the only thing I knew about the place) and insisted we walk the coarse from start line to bull ring. The race lasts four minutes, the bull speed is 24 km/h, there have been 14 deaths and 200 to 300 people are injured each year – I pity the person who has to do the risk assessment. In the evening, after we tucked into our slap-up beezer feed for 20 euros, I YouTubed clips of past races 'oohing' and 'aahing' at lunatic Spaniards being impaled and trampled under foot by the stampeding toros. 

In a rash moment we decided to book one night in a hotel in San Sebastian itself, so we could see the city by night, get dolled up, ignite the romance (and I didn't have to wait until eight o'clock in evening to imbibe). The (second) hotel was in a residential area, the receptionist explained, on our arrival, and there were no restaurants or bars in the area, but there was an Aldi ten minutes drive away. (Note to self - don't trust Anna to book hotels). 

At the end of our week and after a quick detour to Biarritz (which is San Sebastian's French neighbour) it was great to return to the calm, flatness of the Deux-Sèvres. Home. The chickens were alive, the neighbours' dog was still barking, the garden had benefitted from a weekend of downpours and the cat was pleased to see us ...I think. 

Eskerrik asko to the Basque Country for a wonderful week.