San Sebastian

On Spanish Invasion Day we arrived at Donostia (San Sebastian), unaware of the protests that had been staged in various locations of the Basque Country, and the arrests of several members of the political arm of radical left-wing separatists ETA (hello, tourists)... to an idyllic seaside town where not much was going on, but in which for some reason it was nearly impossible to find a hotel room.

Starving and looking for a place we stumbled across another one of those happy culinary accidents, Juantxos (literally meaning "Johnny's"), a take away joint that specializes in the bocata with tortilla, a bagette stuffed with an omelette of whatever combination you want: traditional tortilla with potatoes, or whatever Spanish cured meat, fresh mushrooms, pimiento or asparragus. To drink, beer, wine or the local specialties: apple cider or kalimotxo (red wine & coke). The bartenders comunicate with the kitchen via what would seem a more sofisticated method than the traditional yelling, an tinny 70s intercom. After several attemps at getting an order through, the bartender gives up and says 'domo arigato' and other such random Japanese phrases. Reply from the kitchen: "Vale" (OK). Smoking inside is again totally fine, people walk in with dogs despite a no dogs sign on the door, everyone speaks in Basque except for us (and the Japanophile bartender) and we decide to make this our breakfast joint. The clientele in the morning included old men having a bocatas and wine at 8 am, construction workers, students, and office workers in suits, all locals. A bloody gem.

On Tuesday night things return to normal, every place in town is open and we venture into what until now has been the most memorable food experience in Spain (I think I speak for us both): the pintxo, I guess you can call them super tapas. The bars in town all try and outdo each other in coming up with the best possible combinations they can fit on a slice of bagette, piled on as many plates as can fit on the bar. You take your pick as in most places all pintxos cost the same, help yourself and be honest about how many you ate at the end of your stay when you settle the bill. The place to go, we decided after much experimentation, making and breaking of rules and consuming a large part of our budget, is Martinez on 31 Agosto street. The owner must have been a 2001 Space Odyssey fan as the ceiling is all curved white formica with sparse but bright white flouro lights, the bar a clean, wide slab of white marble packed with pintxos. Amelia's pick: the medallion of creamy bonito wrapped in salted cod and sprinkled with herbs and olive oil; my pick: the red smoked pimiento stuffed with cod coleslaw drizzled with lime and olive oil.

The town? Amazing. Made famous by queen Isabella who came to holiday there in the 19th Century, it's all grandiose colourful buildings with gargoyles, ornate streetlights, tree-lined boulevards and a great network of bike lanes...a bubble of cuteness popped when you see the bullet holes that pepper the town hall facade, the stickers of dissapeared unionists, and of course, the news: the latest topic to divide the Spanish. Should the radical left be allowed to resurrect their party? Are they showing signs of rejecting the violence of ETA? Is the government putting them in jail before they can answer questions?