San Sebastian is the Amsterdam of the Basque region, hey let’s just say of the whole of Spain with nothing to back it up beyond a general vibe. With that said, a vibe is still a vibe, and is the human mind not a series of vibes blending into one another to create a illusionary stream of consciousness? — Maybe I have been in the Seb for too long….
It isn’t just the weed paraphernalia shops, which sell bongs, grinders, CBD, and low THC weed — I don’t know who is buying the last one — or the weed smells wafting around the sandy cove. Famous for sun, sand and surfing there is just a trendy air to the place; however, it lacks the seedy element which Amsterdam offers for 50 euros a pop (Asked for a friend I swear 😅). Now, this is not to say this is an improvement — I personally find light seed a bit comical — only San Sebastian has a more gentrified hippy vibe over lads on tour, which Amsterdam has become.
We took all this in as we walked round the beach front and over to the old town to get some food.
I know this is well known but the Basque’s “pintxos”, which is basically tapas, is worth a try with one caveat: You would think with all their culinary experience the Basques would know how to use a microwave but no. All food, regardless of type or portion goes in for 30 seconds leaving it lukewarm.
After our food and sangria we headed to Dabadaba to go see Chico Blanco. After being one of the youngest people in the the crowd of refined gentlemen and gentlewoman the night before taking in Shostakovich and Mozart (Move pinky to corner of mouth) we decided to go the complete opposite.
The crowd was mainly students, which I can only guess were suffering from long covid by the amount of sniffing they were doing 😷. Thankfully there were a few mature student there so we weren’t completely out of place. We got there early had a few drinks and were happy with the comfortable seating we had commandeered, which seemed to be prime real estate — Ten years too late guys, this is not our first rodeo.
We had no idea what to expect since we had booked this on a whim but Chico Blanco was actually quite good. His individual songs are rubbish but his live sets are completely different. He whispered to us as he floated around the stage with a series of incongruent videos running in the background.
Maybe this is the new wave of Acid House called Whispery Acid. If this becomes a thing you heard it here first!
At this age I couldn’t hope to understand these kids and their designer drugs and such beyond watching from a comfy seat and occasionally going to the bar to say “dos cervezas, por favor.”
Afterwards was the customary Kebab which took an age to make but at least we got an apology for the delay in Spanish. We told the man there was nothing to worry about before sitting back down to eat, only to find out that he was telling us to get out by some of the locals since he was closing.
As we walked home I couldn’t help think of how the Basque region is a more intense version of Scotland: The constant rain, the feeling of a country within a country, the unique language, an independence movement which waxes and wanes over the years.
I guess I left hopeful in seeing how a violent situation can turn peaceful but aware how a peaceful situation can turn violent.