The offer for lunch in a town 5 km outside of San Sebastian turned into a novel. So many chapters to tell after this lovely afternoon, more so than any single day of my trip. And I guess that is what happens when you wander off the beaten bath, step into someone else’s shoes for a while, and be a little less “you” and more apart of the world.
Such was my state of mind on this beautiful Tuesday.
The sun rose early this morning, and since I chose to sleep with the curtains up and the windows open last night it means I arose early as well. I went for a crazy man’s run (again with no asthma) around la playa del concha, the old town and back to the sea view with the metal art forms. Belissimo, belissimo, belissimo! San Sebastian has continued to take my breath away.
(my 2nd favorite photo so far -- that way you all don't get the same Christmas gift!)After showering and packing, and putting on my St. Patty’s day green (as any good girl would do when her grandfather was born on St. Patty’s day) I headed to the beach to say my farewells to the ocean, the mountains and such a lovely town. My friends from last night were picking me up at noon, and I did not want to be late.
(A little picture postcard for my readers.)
Promptly at noon, my phone rang calling me in from the shore. There was a huge van parked outside of Hotel la Galeria, with something written in basque that I did not comprehend. The two guys from last night and I shared “holas” as I think that is all that we understood between the other.
I know my mother would probably tell me not to get in a van with strangers, and have them drive you to god know’s where, but at a certain age you learn to trust your own intuition and I knew I was in a good place.
I asked to be taken to the post office to mail some things back to the United States that I no longer needed (Sandra – be on the lookout, they are coming to your attention at Euro!). This was a field trip in itself! No one speaks English in this part of Spain. Not one word. Slowly and patiently we figured out the necessary pieces to the puzzle, and the package was shipped. It was going to cost 30 Euro, and yet Mr. Nice Guy refused to let me pay… this is after the guys treated me to dinner and drinks last night… and they did not know me two hours before. I felt this was overly generous, but had no words to argue as Juan took my 50 Euro folded it and put it in the pocket of my dress.
Back in the car, the radio is turned on, and I recognize the artist – Mana – from my days of dating a Colombian/Spaniard in college with who my mother is most likely grateful never found his way to holidays and family events in the year’s preceding UGA.
Anyway, I digress. For the next five minutes we drive along with little to say. The road to wherever we are going is beautiful and before I know it the road ends, we are parked at a port of some sort and we are getting out of the car. The two men point across the body of water “aqui, aqui”… “There,there!”. I guess that is where we are going for lunch?
A launch/water taxi pulls up at the dock and we are aboard, heading to Donibane (we had arrived in San Pedro – neighboring fishing towns, but Donibane is the preferred).
(Front of Luis's restaurant)
(water side view of restaurant)
Two minutes later we are out and walk into the backdoor of the restaurant to say hello to Luis who is in full chef gear. He tells us to come back in an hour, and we stroll the small town of Donibane, stopping at the two guys (who were brothers, which was demonstrated by a showing of national ID cards) family home (number 128), and having a glass of wine in the massive kitchen.
The conversation that developed involved many pages of my notepad, as Miguel explained he had two children and a wife. His brother, Juan, had neither. And I was the solo traveler who had just called off a wedding.
Now that we knew each other better, it was time for lunch. We returned to Luis’s restaurant – this time through the front door – kissed Luis’s mother, who was the hostess and waitress, and found seats at a table with a picturesque view of the sea.
OMIGOD. This was by far the best lunch I have ever devoured. Everything was straight from the sea – and four courses so less! (not including desert)
We started with a crab and octopus salad, marinated and on a bed of lettuce. We then enjoyed grilled calamari and squid. Then there was a bowl of water placed in the center of the table with these restaurant “mint” looking things that I was quickly shown that they were “dropas” to wash our hands. I figured we were done with lunch, but my oh my, here came the lobster!
I think I sometimes shock people with how much I can put down, and these two brothers was no exception. Half-way through their lobster each of them offered me ½ of the lobster tail they had remaining. No sweat… of course I was thinking that was the end of the line. Nope. Plates cleared and then each of us were served a WHOLE fish. About a pound each. I thought I was dying. (both because I love anything from the sea, but also my tummy isn’t muy grande)
After a few bites. I am finished. Caput. Done. Or so I think… Then Luis’s mother comes for a chat and tells me/demonstrates her trip to NYC last year. I kind of get what she is saying, but the acting cracked me up.
Then its time for desert. The only thing I understand was “flan” so that is what I had and un café. When the desert arrives, I realize I should have gone for the torta de queso (similar to cheesecake, which I normally don't go for) and the brothers and I share both deserts
Then its time for the bill, and there is not one. Luis comes running from the kitchen, “ I invite you! No pay. No pay. No pay!” Quite dramatic for a calm family restaurant, but I understand the sentiment, and try to tip generously his mother. She wasn’t having it either. Miquel and Juan shook their heads and motioned me out the door.
I am drunk on vino rosa and friendship as we take the launch back to San Pedro. Such a lovely afternoon, one that I will not find again I am sure in my travels through Spain.
There is something to be said about wanting “to be here” without worrying about conversation, and knowing it will not exist except through hand gestures and markings in a notebook. Its very much “more” in a way. For in this afternoon, I enjoyed the brothers essence, and they mine, and I think we left the day better and wiser people for spending an afternoon with minimal words.
Definitely the most unique way I will ever spend St. Patty’s Day.
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