San Sebastian/Donostia
This was our second time in San Sebastian, but our first arriving on the train directly. Previously we rode the train from Bordeaux to Hendaye on the French border, and then a taxi brought us the rest of the way into Spain. Spain has historically used a different rail gauge than the rest of Europe, though this is changing with the construction of high-speed lines.
San Sebastian, or Donostia as it is called in Euskara, is not one of the most famous or historically significant places we have visited on either European trip. It is, however one of our favorites, a charming city with great food and beautiful beaches.
More after the jump
Since we knew it was going to be cool and possibly rainy, our main goal was to get as much time on La Contxa as possible. We could always retreat to the Aquarium again, but this visit the rain remained at mostly at bay during the daytime.
The first morning wasn't so promising. The high tide was great for surfing, but nearly swallowed up the whole beach.
After lunch (and a few cups of coffee) we were happy to see the tide had gone out and the waves were less intense. What was left behind was an amazing expanse of damp, castle-perfect sand.
May is offseason for beach-going, so sand toys were actually a little hard to come by. We stopped in a grocery store on the way to the beach and bought some cheap plastic food containers that worked for us.
That evening, we walked around to watch rougher seas and long-lasting sunset. It was nearly 10 pm when I took these pictures. The seawall mostly did its job, absorbing as much of the waves as it could, though occasionally an especially strong one would crash high enough to hit the sidewalk and road. It looked, in the dimming light, as though some ancient sea titan was hitting against the man-made protection, sending tentacles up the wall to reach its unsuspecting lprey.
The following afternoon was more of the same. Even though it was barely in the 60 degrees F, the kids could not resist the pull of the beach and bay.
Later that day, before supper, which we tried very hard to eat at the late hour of the locals, we ascended Monte Igueldo via the funicular (funikularra in Basque)
In Pennsylvania, we call these "inclines."
The funicular at Igueldo celebrated a century of service last year. The views from the top are quite spectacular. Unfortunately for us, the rain that had held off most of the day when we were at the beach finally rolled in across the mountains. We had spectacular views of a different kind, of low hanging clouds and rainfall that hadn't reached us yet (but soon would).
A great way to warm up (for me, that is) were downing a couple of pitchers of sangria and a few plates of pintxos.
We are so fortunate that Randy's work has brought us to San Sebastian twice, even in the cold and rain. It is such a beautiful seaside city, someplace I wouldn't mind returning to often. I say that. too, as someone who has yet to experience San Sebastian on a warm, sunny day like they typically have in the summer.
Oh, and since we didn't formally revisit any of the churches this time, and this post is lacking a church, here's St. Vincent at night just after the rain. It is around the corner from the Pintxos Bar where we ate. It looks so dark and mysterious, doesn't it?
San Sebastian, or Donostia as it is called in Euskara, is not one of the most famous or historically significant places we have visited on either European trip. It is, however one of our favorites, a charming city with great food and beautiful beaches.
More after the jump
Since we knew it was going to be cool and possibly rainy, our main goal was to get as much time on La Contxa as possible. We could always retreat to the Aquarium again, but this visit the rain remained at mostly at bay during the daytime.
The first morning wasn't so promising. The high tide was great for surfing, but nearly swallowed up the whole beach.
After lunch (and a few cups of coffee) we were happy to see the tide had gone out and the waves were less intense. What was left behind was an amazing expanse of damp, castle-perfect sand.
May is offseason for beach-going, so sand toys were actually a little hard to come by. We stopped in a grocery store on the way to the beach and bought some cheap plastic food containers that worked for us.
That evening, we walked around to watch rougher seas and long-lasting sunset. It was nearly 10 pm when I took these pictures. The seawall mostly did its job, absorbing as much of the waves as it could, though occasionally an especially strong one would crash high enough to hit the sidewalk and road. It looked, in the dimming light, as though some ancient sea titan was hitting against the man-made protection, sending tentacles up the wall to reach its unsuspecting lprey.
The following afternoon was more of the same. Even though it was barely in the 60 degrees F, the kids could not resist the pull of the beach and bay.
Later that day, before supper, which we tried very hard to eat at the late hour of the locals, we ascended Monte Igueldo via the funicular (funikularra in Basque)
In Pennsylvania, we call these "inclines."
The funicular at Igueldo celebrated a century of service last year. The views from the top are quite spectacular. Unfortunately for us, the rain that had held off most of the day when we were at the beach finally rolled in across the mountains. We had spectacular views of a different kind, of low hanging clouds and rainfall that hadn't reached us yet (but soon would).
A great way to warm up (for me, that is) were downing a couple of pitchers of sangria and a few plates of pintxos.
We are so fortunate that Randy's work has brought us to San Sebastian twice, even in the cold and rain. It is such a beautiful seaside city, someplace I wouldn't mind returning to often. I say that. too, as someone who has yet to experience San Sebastian on a warm, sunny day like they typically have in the summer.
Oh, and since we didn't formally revisit any of the churches this time, and this post is lacking a church, here's St. Vincent at night just after the rain. It is around the corner from the Pintxos Bar where we ate. It looks so dark and mysterious, doesn't it?
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