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Published: July 23rd 2022
We’ve seen quite a few people around town wearing white uniforms with cute red scarves around their necks. The Google machine tells us that this is the dress code for the annual festival of the Running of the Bulls at Pamplona, which looks to be less than a hundred kilometres south of here, and it seems that the festival is on right now. There are still four days to go, so we’re not quite sure whether the people we’ve seen have done their runs yet. If they have, the lack of blood stains suggests that they’ve either managed to get hold of some excellent bleach, or they’ve completed their runs successfully, even the toddlers. Further reading suggests we can stop worrying about the toddlers; it seems that almost everyone in Pamplona (and here too apparently) wears these costumes around festival time, competitors or not.
And whilst on the subject of local hazards, I was talking to Issy yesterday about ETA. I remember this as being a Basque separatist organisation which was apparently active here and throughout Spain up until relatively recently. The ever reliable Wikipedia tells us that between 1968 and 2010 it was involved in bombings, assassinations and kidnappings
Elizbarrutiko Seminarioa (Catholic Church)
That’s the building in the background, not the sculpturethat resulted in nearly a thousand deaths and many more injuries. I hope it’s not still here lurking in the shadows somewhere, waiting to kidnap unsuspecting tourists. We read that in 2018 it declared that it was completely disbanding, and abandoning any further attempts at separatism, so unless any former members have gone rogue we should hopefully be able to sleep safely tonight.
We decide to take a ride on the local version of the hop on hop off bus to get a more complete view of the city. Luckily we bought our masks, or there was no way bus driver man was going to let us get on. We can’t help but notice that the approach to health and safety here seems to be just a tad haphazard. You don’t need to wear a mask in a plane, but you do in a bus, even a double decker one where you're sitting on the top floor in the open air, with the wind blowing your hat off at regular intervals (and another very muchas gracias to the guy sitting two rows behind us who caught mine as it flew past), not to mention tree branches constantly threatening to
knock you unconscious. And smoking. The woman sitting at the table less than half a metre from us last night was puffing away like there was no tomorrow, but no masks and no problem there apparently.
The bus takes us round the stunning La Cocha Bay which is packed with sun worshippers on this cloudless Sunday. We stop at the far end and climb onto the hundred year old wooden carriage funicular for a quick trip up Mount Igueldo. The views from the top are excellent. Perhaps not quite so stunning is the amusement park that’s apparently been here since 1912. It’s got all the usual offerings of haunted houses, roller coasters, merry go rounds, boat rides and dodgem cars. There’s also a toboggan run that ends in, well a concrete wall. Good luck with that landing. The only explanation I can come up was they only realised it hardly ever snows here after they built it. …and Issy says she doesn’t want her picture taken next to the astronaut statue; I wonder if that was here in 1912. I get that they’re going for the retro look, but it all looks a bit run down and just makes
us feel like we’re at Luna Park back in the 1960s.
The bus tour gives us some of the history of San Sebastian. It was captured by Napoleon in 1808. It was then sieged and recaptured by the British and Portuguese in 1813, and they torched the whole place - only 35 buildings survived. I’ve never been quite sure why conquerors do this. I wouldn’t have thought there was much point capturing a place if you then proceeded to make it uninhabitable, particularly if the guys you captured it from didn’t live there in the first place.
It seems that San Sebastián was the place to be during the city’s Belle Époque of the First World War. Cultural and political figures of the likes of Mata Hari and Leon Trotsky spent time here, and it was renowned for its party scene and nightlife. Things started to decline when the dictatorship banned gambling in 1924, which forced the casino to close, and the prosperous times only really returned as a result of a number of revitalisation projects in the 1990s.
As readers of earlier posts will know, Issy’s not into churches, so I leave her searching for food
while I wander into the church behind the stunning facade of the Koruko Andre Mariaren Basilika, otherwise known as the Basilica of St Mary of the Chorus. It was completed in 1774, so must somehow have managed to survive the Napoleonic War which presumably destroyed almost everything around it. I know that despite six years of effort my Spanish still sucks, but it’s Sunday and there’s a mass in progress, so why can’t I understand a single word of what’s being said. I hope the priest’s speaking Basque, because if he’s not I think now might be a good time for me to give up on the Spanish lessons.
We wander along the waterfront in search of somewhere for dinner. We try to get into two places, but they’re both booked out. The large place in between them is open, but is however completely empty except for two very lonely looking diners being attended to by three very bored looking waiters. One of the waiters looks daggers at us as we scan the menu and then quickly walk away. The menu looked alright and so did the prices, so why is this place virtually empty when everything around it
is packed solid. There weren’t any obvious signs of health department inspectors or earlier diners lying on the floor clutching their stomachs in agony. Is there something else sinister going on here or is this just another example of my sheep theory of restaurants in action - no one wants to come here because there’s no one here - well that was certainly our thinking? These guys need to get onto the solution and quickly - open early tomorrow night with everything at 50% off, and then as the place fills up go back to your original pricing. I’m glad I don’t have to run a restaurant.
Anyway, we have an excellent meal in an idyllic setting in one of the other dockside restaurants, one of the ones with other people in it.
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Home and Away
Bob Carlsen
Sheep restaurant theory...
I was at the Piazza Navonna in Rome at lunch time. I decided to test the sheep theory and picked a restaurant with no one in it. Once I did, soon others followed. The waiter thanked me! As for why conquerors destroy cities, that brings to mind the Russian invasion of Ukraine.