Cooling down, freshing up

San Sebastián, July 2023

Jahmila’s birthday present to her father Stefano was a perfect escape from the unbearable heat. She gave us tickets for a venue of Cirque du Soleil in San Sebastian, back in april. I immediately had booked flight and Hotel, with a little concern if that would be the right thing to do in the middle of july - a city trip at high season, full of people and hot as hell. But it turned out to be the best thing ever! Apart from an amazing show, la crème de la crème of worldwide selected acrobats, we enjoyed so much the refreshing 20 degrees Celsius, coming from brain-melting temperatures on Formentera. The lush and green landscapes and cloudy sky were a relief to our eyes, although the locals complaint about a continuous cloudy and rainy summer.

An escape of routine in Formentera. Yes, although living in paradise, I have a daily routine of work, errants and duties to fulfill, like anywhere else. On top, I try to avoid the tourist masses on the island. It‘s actually quite annoying and dangerous to deal with all those scooter drivers, who don‘t know how to drive and occupy the whole street or suddenly stop and hit you with their umbrella, placed vertical between the male driver and the female co-driver doing selfies in bikini. Most tourists don‘t have the sensibility for local ordinary life style and think that everything and everywhere is vacation.

In San Sebastian, it was suddenly us being tourists. We had rented a scooter for a day, to visit a beautiful fishing village outside of town. As by mistake, we took wrong turns and made totally prohibited u-turns, crossing zebra stripes, driving against one-direction signs or just simply stood aside and checking on google maps, we challenged the local’s patient as little. Stefano did the full Napoli - driving - style!

And, as proper tourists, we strolled around the old town, holding each other‘s hands for better balance and did what Oldies do: finding a bench or a bar/cafe to sit and have a rest every 30 minutes. Our back hurts, if walking too long because this limping business can be challenging after all. We ate lots of “Pintxos“ in the old town’s bars, totally justified as cultural heritage and watched the fisherman at work in the small bay beside La Concha.

At one point, I followed an elder gentleman, dressed in a tailored suit, and asked him where he got his beautifully handcrafted walking stick from. He showed me the hidden spearhead in the stick‘s handle and the evening began it’s course. He sat down with us for a drink and held a two hour monologue about his family background, how he met his wife who passed away, the basque identity, basque history, german philosophers and the best wine in the world - of course basque.

We ended up silently nodding after every story, too tired to interrupt. But it remained a very interesting evening. I will probably end up like this aswell, talking my guts out to younger generations, fiddling around with an old glamorous walking stick, without a spearhead but a green emerald between my fingers.