On the final days of the Sanfermin Festival the population of the camping ground begins to dwindle. Left are only the hardcore festival goers and latecomers. Whilst sitting in our little comfy box chef Robin notices a carload of not one, not two, not three, but four very attractive ladies arriving. They proceed to set up camp not far from our view. Before too long, it was decided that we’d go and say Hi! So we did and before too long we were all sitting on the grass with a huge pan full of pasta that the sharing caring Chef Robin had whipped up from next to nothing. Nic, Amy, Kate and Mandy are New Zealanders working in London, but on a 3 month break to see Europe together.
After sharing a great night together as the fiesta wrapped up with fireworks and many-a-freezing cold bottle of Sangria (Sangria by the way is a sweet red wine concoction with a fruity taste) we returned to our beds with catchy Spanish reggae tunes ringing through our heads.
In the morning the Kiwis are packed up before we even raise our heads. They are headed the same way we are so we make plans to catch up with them later.
Robin leaves us to return to work, with promises of catching up in the near future.
Our next stop is the tourist ridden but beautiful coastal town of San Sebastian on the North coast. We all stop off at a local discount supermarket and guided by Sarah we stock up Van Damme. 42 Euros later we have a car full of beer, spirits, potatos, bread, tomatos, oranges, fish, chorizo sausage, the list goes on but needless to say its true that you can live very cheaply in Spain (if you don’t go buying 9 Euro pints of Beer as I did at one time). A good example is the Litros bottles of beer we have found for 68 cents, an absolute bargain and great tasting brew. A bottle of Tinto (red wine) can cost you as little as 55 cents and it’s pretty drinkable.
We head through the picturesque mountain drive toward San Sebastian. After 40 kilometres of amazing scenery we arrive in the town and quickly find our campsite. The site is set upon a towering mountain above the town that looks out over the crystal clear blue ocean scattered with sailing boats.
The night brings our group now eight strong, to the “Old Town” or Parta Vilje. It’s an area packed with bars and famous for it’s beautiful range of Tapas. The tapas are basically immaculately presented finger food, with ingredients ranging from quail egg, prawns, cheese (queso) and mushrooms to fish, charizo or chilli peppers. It’s not long before we have tasted almost everything in all the bars. Only one item remained, the dreaded escargot. Looking somewhat like a regular garden snail dressed up in a tomato salsa, we take our time deciding whether we should or shouldn’t, but eventually one by one we scoop out the slimy black sack and chow down. If your able to clear your mind of the fact that you are eating something that looks not of this earth, then it tastes a little like a mushroom for a split second.
In the morning we visit the beach, the weather is a little overcast but the water is still damn fine, so are the women and for the benefit of our female readers, in a very heterosexual outlook the guys are okay too.
As time roars past our white skin starts to look less white and before too long the locals are mistaking us for one of them. I guess we are starting to fit in, as much as we have anywhere else anyway.