Each piece I have seen is extraordinarily well composed, and I insist on taking any friends on a tour of his works each time I am visited. Neither they nor anybody I’ve met here in Granada has ever had a bad word to say about the mystery man’s cultured contributions. Often he is invited by local businesses to come and jazz up their dull and colourless walls, and a couple of the local museums in town even feature him in their brochures. It gives Granada an urban edge that it would otherwise lack.

So it came as a shock when I happened to walk by one of my favourite pieces near the infamous, el niño-fied house, to find that it had  been scrubbed away. Well, nearly anyway. Whoever had been assigned the task hadn’t done a very good job of it; there was still half of it left, as if to suggest that the design had been defiled out of pure spite.

Las Caras, back in October

…and now

What is the point?

Fair enough, at the end of the day these walls are somebody else’s property, and el niño, among other urban artists (some of whose works are admittedly a lot uglier in comparison) probably don’t have permission to use them. But what’s done is done, and as a matter of fact they (el niño’s contributions anyhow) actually brighten the place up, and bring an extra element to Granada’s cultural side.

I desperately hope that this isn’t the start of a mass graffiti-ridding project. There’s good graffiti and there’s bad graffiti, and el niño de las pinturas is unquestionably of the former sort.

We had a power cut the other night.

I hate power cuts, and especially when they happen at night; I am invariably prevented from doing anything that I want to be doing (if my laptop battery is low, which is often) and I can’t boil the kettle or use the hob, therefore am unable to make myself a cup of tea, which causes the sort of anguish that no man should ever have to bare.

As a kid, I’d jump for joy if ever there were a power cut, and then rush off to the loft to unearth some dusty board game (usually Risk or Monopoly) while Mum sorted out the candles and Dad waited in a dark corner with the torch held under his chin, ready to click it on and petrify me when I emerged with the board game underarm.

On this occasion, my instinct reaction was very different. I swore, sighed, got up (still swearing), wandered off to fetch a candle and then began reading a book. Of course I like reading books, but not when I am forced to do so and generally not at night – it’s much more of a daytime, terrace, coffee and sunshine thing for me.

Inevitably, the lights flickered back into life within moments of having sat down, and my untimely, darkened interlude was over almost as abruptly as it had started. I drifted insentiently back to my computer and settled down into my swivel chair to resume my evening of mindless web browsing.

And that’s when it hit me – just how reliant I have become on the internet as a tool not only for casual distraction, but for everything I do. Before coming to Spain, I hadn’t been so unremittingly consumed with it; Facebook, uni stuff, fantasy football league and one or two news websites were just about the extent of my web browsing. Truthfully, I had neither the time nor reason to use it for other means.

Evidently, that’s all changed now, and after a bit of a ponder and several cups of Yorkshire’s finest, I’ve drawn up a list of the online resources that I deem to be categorically invaluable to me, as a young (barely), working, travel-fervid expat here in Spain.

If you live under similar circumstances or have done before, then perhaps you’ll be inclined to agree with some. If you’ve never called yourself ‘expat’ but are thinking about it, then I assure you, ALL of the following will be hugely helpful in the settling in process – I only wish I hadn’t had to find (most of) them myself…

#1 Couchsurfing

Fair enough, you don’t have to be an expat to become a ‘couchsurfer’ – the worldwide social networking site is for anyone, anywhere – but if you’re living away from home, you’ll invariably be surrounded by new and interesting places that you will no doubt want to investigate on a regular basis.

Couchsurfing is the perfect way to go about doing this. You save lots of pennies and meet lots of very agreeable, local people, who are likely to show you around town or at the very least send you on your way with an elaborately modified map.

What’s more, couchsurfing also offers expats the opportunity to meet other, like-minded people in their own cities. It wasn’t until my impromptu trip to Pamplona last March that I realised the potential benefits of attending regular meet-ups here in Granada. Before that experience, couchsurfing had only ever been a service I occasionally needed whilst travelling or offered to other travellers. Now I attend the Granada forum’s intercambio every week and meet new people from all over the world every week. It’s a huge part of my life.

#2 Car sharing websites

In a recent post about SOS 4.8 Festival in Murcia, I alluded to the Spanish car-sharing website amovens.com. This particular site is probably my favourite, as it never seems to let me down. I’ve also used blabacar.es and carpooling.es, albeit each on just one occasion, but both were equally as positive experiences.

To give you an idea of the savings I make using these types of sites, consider that a one-way train ticket to Seville from Granada costs €29 and lasts just over three hours. Now consider that I made that same journey in almost half that time at a third of the price. I’ll say it again…

There is of course that element of risk involved, but I’ve never heard any horror stories to put me off. Girls, understandably, are and ought to be more cautious, but like couchsurfing, many of these sites function on a reference-based system, so that any would-be passengers may give their would-be drivers the onceover before making arrangements. The golden rule is that you do not fall asleep; this is both rude and dangerous!

#3 Tusclasesparticulares.com

It took until my third year here in Spain to stumble across this gem of a site. Whether you are planning to stay in Spain as a short-term or long-term expat, you will, inevitably, at some point begin teaching English. It’s the easiest job to find and with a bit of luck you’ll be able to find a decent academy who treat their staff well. I am fortunate enough to be able to count myself among the few English teachers here in Granada who are paid well, on time and most important of all – legally. Others aren’t so lucky, and often find themselves scrapping for hours and desperately trying to seek out private students.

Tusclasespartiulares.com is a service that makes this issue a hell of a lot simpler. Students – of any language – and language teachers alike may create a profile and post short ads detailing their needs/services etc. Users can instantly see prices, hours of availability, relevant experience and so on.

Earlier this year, I created my own profile and received around 10 messages within the first week. Some came from private students and others from directors of local academies asking if I’d like to come for an interview for a part or in some cases full time position. It’s a surefire way to get the moneys rolling in.

#4 Expatforum.com

This site provided me with answers when I needed them most.

Last year, I went through hell and back trying to replace my lost NIE at Granada’s oficina de extranjero (complainy post in the works). Those of you who already live in Spain will almost certainly be aware of just how infuriatingly slow and tedious Spanish bureaucracy can be. I was desperate for a new certificate so that I could legitimately claim el paro (extremely generous unemployment benefit) over my jobless summer, but ran into countless stumbling blocks along the way.

Hours of frantic Google searches led me to expatforum.com, where I was at last able to read something concerning the matter in English and, after registering as a user, send beseeching messages to the senior, Spanish bureaucracy hardened members. Eventually, I resolved my issue by requesting and subsequently being granted a temporary residence card, but I very nearly had to cry in order to get what I wanted. I didn’t cry, but probably would’ve done had it not been for some expert guidance via the Spain page on expat forum.

#5 Second-hand / flat-share websites

I’m guessing sites like this exist in just about every country by now. The US has Craigslist and the UK have spareroom.co.uk, gumtree.com and flatshare.com. All of them work amazingly well. Here in Spain, you have to look a bit harder for the better ones. I use easypiso.com (branch of easyroommate.com) and loquo.com to find potential places to live.

It’s just chaos in the mornings…

My first year using easypiso.com yielded a moderate apartment with excellent flat mates (except one, asshole) and the second pretty much the opposite way around; I now live in an incredible, modern, three-floor house with a terrace, patio and soundproof basement. However, my housemates and I do not get along, and I recently decided that, despite how in love I am with the house, the people with whom I live are more important, so I’ll be enlisting the services of easypiso or loquo once again this coming June.

I should also mention that loquo.com, as well as segundamano.es, are fantastic sites for buying second hand stuff. I’ve bought a phone, a bike and various other bits and pieces, and met with the seller in person every time. Waaay better than ebay.

#6 Wordreference.com, NOT Google Translate

Thanks to wordreference.com, I am able to trick people who I only speak Spanish to on Facebook into thinking that my Spanish is completely flawless. I can use words like ‘diluviando’ or ‘quisquilloso’ or (personal fave) ‘zarrapastroso’ and pretend as though I didn’t just look it up in two seconds flat. Better still, each translation yields two, three or even four uses of the word in context, so you are able to choose which word suits what you want to say best.

The same cannot be said for the erroneous Google Translate. Often, a search for a single word will turn up numerable results, with no contexts given as examples. If an entire phrase or paragraph is copied, pasted and translated, the result is even more inaccurate, as complex grammatical structures somehow seem too much for Google’s gargantuan brain to deal with.

I must admit, since I downloaded the app for my smartphone I have perhaps become ever so slightly overindulgent. Beforehand, I used it as a quick fix whenever I was reading or writing in Spanish online. These days, it’s whenever I am momentarily unsure of how to say something, when in actual fact I could probably wrest it out of me if I just mulled it over for another minute.

#7 Twitter

Now no list of invaluable expat resources would be complete without giving an honourable mention to Twitter now would it? Frankly, I’d be lost without it.

Since finally giving in and joining shortly before Christmas, it has become an almost exclusive news resource for me. There is, however, a lot of distracting, pointless dross that when clicked on swallows up a good chunk of my day. And that isn’t good.

I can’t keep up with it to tell you the truth, but I do like retweeting things I find funny or interesting. I’d retweet this if I hadn’t already tweeted it.

God that’s the most incredibly twattish-sounding thing I’ve ever said on here.

Expats, would-be expats and er, ex-expats! What are your most invaluable resources in your adopted homeland? Do pitch in!

If there’s one thing that Spain knows how to run well, it’s a festival.

Last weekend, I went to SOS 4.8 festival in Murcia. It was my first trip to Murcia, and my fourth – and largest – festival so far here in Spain. Headlining the event were The xx, Bloc Party, M83 and Justice – four class acts that by chance I’d seen play live the year before at Open’er Festival in Poland. Normally, a lineup identical to one at a festival I’d recently attended wouldn’t seduce me so easily, but as I said, these are class acts, and I really, really love festivals.

At €35 for ‘el abono’, SOS is/was an absolute bargain. As it transpired, I ended up paying €55 as I had foolishly waited for a press accreditation destined for rejection until the week before the event. I didn’t care though; I was going, my mates from the UK were going and a sh*t load of booze was going too.

Unofficial camping – only €50!

I also made huge savings on transport and accommodation: My ride to Murcia came thanks to carshare website amovens.com – I paid just €15 to get there and was regaled with army stories from my militant driver the whole way (actually enjoyable, honest), and I stayed in an unofficial but nearby campsite where a tent had already been provided for me, at the cost of €50…

With a capacity of around 20,000 and still plenty of elbow space, SOS is/was also the perfect size. I rarely had to queue for more than five minutes either for the toilet or bar, though this may have had more to do with the fact that drink prices had been hiked to the unashamedly ludicrous for the weekend– €7.50 for a large beer anyone? Thought not. But at festivals it’s effectively inescapable, unless you’re one of the lucky ones who manage to smuggle a premixed 2-litre bottle of God knows what in owing to the slipshod security – I even saw one lad pull a mini keg of Heineken from his backpack once inside…

I suppose I better say something about the music then.

We arrived on Friday to the poprock sound of the peculiarly named Kakkmaddafakka. Until I actually saw the band’s name written down I’d genuinely thought that it had been a proper English word terribly mispronounced by Spanish speakers. Though all their songs were lost on me, they still provoked us into jumping around like morons.

The xx’s headlining set was up next. Lots of people go on about how the band’s melancholic sound doesn’t really work for festivals; that if you close your eyes you may as well be listening to your iPod on maximum volume etc.

Bollocks to that.

They are masters at what they do, and frankly if they attempted to jazz things up a bit with a quicker tempo I’m not sure anyone would like the outcome very much. Thankfully, they didn’t, and instead treated us to a wave of hits from both albums, all as moody and docile as we had readily anticipated. ‘Intro’ and ‘Crystalised’ stood out for me.

Shortly afterwards we were watching festival heavyweights Bloc Party waltz onto stage. With four albums to their name, there would certainly be no shortage of material, but disappointingly they did lean heavily on much of the newer stuff throughout the first half the set, which is always annoying at festivals. Eventually our patience was rewarded though, with a stream of classics headed with a rolling rendition of ‘Song For Clay’ and ‘Banquet’. Much better!

At various intervals lead singer Kele Okreke attempted to interact with his audience but his sentiments often fell on deaf ears:

“How’s everybody doing at the front!?”

A wee cheer is barely audible.

“And what about you lot in the VIP section?”

The crickets seemed to chirp in agreement at least.

After sidestepping our way through and partially joining in with the mother of all botellones outside the festival grounds on Saturday afternoon, we arrived in time for the latter half of Granada’s very own Lori Meyers. Spanish people were absolutely loving it; I wasn’t so convinced. Possibly because I didn’t know the words, or maybe it was due to my being dragged to the front where about 90% of the crowd looked about the same age as my teenage students. At 25 years old and 6ft 3”, I stood out like a sore thumb.

Lori Meyers

The first indulgence of the night came in the form of French ‘shoegazers’ M83, who, for all their years of grafting in the music-making business, have only become acquainted with large-scale festivals in recent times. Their breakthrough – and my favourite – album ‘Saturdays = youth’ won them deserved critical acclaim and the follow up ‘Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming’ was one of the bestselling albums of 2012. Suddenly, the front wasn’t such a bad place to be after all, as massive tracks ‘Reunion’, ‘We Are The Sky’ and the defining ‘Midnight City’ were belted out for all to sing and spring along to. It was the  performance of the weekend.

M83

Later, the French takeover continued as Justice settled in to their pounding electro set packed with epic synths and explosive drops. The festival had officially turned hardcore. Following that, Vitalic, also from France, took to the stage to ensure that the mayhem continued and threw down yet another barrage of jarring electronica seemingly loud enough to break the sound barrier.

At 6am, we conceded that it was time to be getting back – my friends to their four star hotel rooms; I to my diminutive, freezing cold tent, which quite frankly may as well have been a bed of nails. Can’t complain really though. SOS was just about the cheapest, proper music festival I’ve ever been to, yet easily one of the best and undoubtedly my best ever in Spain. Now let’s see if Territorios Sevilla has what it takes to change that next week…

Translation: ‘BIG TUNE!’

Find here 6 tips to get the best euro exchange rate, whether you’re just holidaying in Spain or, like Josh, relocating entirely.

1. Check the exchange rate as soon as you know you’re going to Spain.

This is because it gives you the biggest possible window to get a good exchange rate. If, on the other hand, you wait until the last minute to exchange currencies, you’ll have to accept whatever exchange rate is available, even if it’s bad.

That could mean you get a smaller euro total.

2. Check the exchange rate regularly with Google.

To find out if the exchange rate is good or not, you can use Google.

Go to Google, and enter “pound to euro”. Google will deliver the latest exchange rate, as well as those stretching back to 2009.

With this, you can tell if the current exchange rate is good or not, as well as watch what happens.

3. Set reasonable expectations for your exchange rate.

This is because, if your expectations are too high, you’ll be left waiting for an exchange rate that never arrives.

Instead then, look at where the exchange rate has been in the last 3 months.

This will give you a sense of what the euro is currently doing, and what exchange rate you can reasonably expect.

4. Take a good exchange rate the moment it becomes available.

If you see an exchange rate you like, take it there and then.

This is because the foreign exchange market is volatile, and a good exchange rate can quickly disappear. For example, if you wait to see how high the exchange rate climbs, it could fall before you know it, and you may lose out.

5. Compare the exchange rate you’re offered from a bank with that from a foreign exchange broker.

This is because a foreign exchange broker will provide an exchange rate up to 4.0% better than a bank. On a large transfer, this adds up to hundreds or thousands of euros extra.

In addition, you won’t pay charges or commission with a foreign exchange broker. By comparison, a bank charges up to £40 per transfer.

6. If you like the exchange rate, but don’t yet want your money in Spain, set up a forward contract.

A forward contract lets you lock in the exchange rate where it is, so that even if the rate changes later on, that’s the exchange rate you get.

For instance, if the pound rises to 1.20 against the euro, and you set up a forward contract, you’ll get 1.20, even if the pound later falls to 1.15.

Get an exchange rate forecast

Get in touch at foreign exchange broker Pure FX to find out what we think will happen to the euro exchange rate.

We’d be delighted to give you an exchange rate forecast.

At last! Festival season is here! And Spain is once again flexing its distended muscles in the upper bracket of Europe’s heavyweight division. It’s got all bases covered; from rock, pop, hip-hop and folk right through to reggae, dub, electro and other innumerable forms of dance music that have recently sprung from the blogosphere.

Moreover, all of these genres will be represented by an enviable portion of the biggest and best talents the music industry has to offer at festivals across the whole of Spain, almost all of which cost less than €100 to go to – an entrance fee now virtually unheard of in Britain. And, needless to say, there is sunshine in Spain, and lots of it in the summer.

But where the bejesus do we start?

Well let’s just focus on ten, disregard chronological order and break it down into three scale-based categories: enormous, large and small.

Enormous (50,000+)

I’d only ever heard of one festival before I came to Spain in 2010: Valencia’s FIB, a.k.a. Benicassim. Though not actually the largest festival in Spain, it is doubtless the most famous. Since its onset in 1995, the event has been an unwavering force on the Spanish festival scene, hosting acts such as Radiohead, Oasis, The Stone Roses, The Chemical Brothers and The Strokes. FIB is particularly popular among sun-starved Brits who account for a sizeable chunk of the crowd, and almost always sells out.

Dates: 18^th - 21^st of July

Pick of the 2013 line-up: Arctic Monkeys; The Killers; Queens of The Stone Age; Kaiser Chiefs; Primal Scream; Dizzee Rascal; Skream; The Courteeners

Price of ticket with camping: €163

Official website

(Esta foto de Benicasim es cortesía de TripAdvisor)

But Valencia isn’t done there; two weeks later, and a mere 35 minutes down the road, the similarly indie-pop based Arenal Sound takes place on a giant quay jutting out from the shore of Castellón. In just three years Arenal has risen to become the largest of Spain’s festivals and last year attracted between eighty and ninety thousand punters. The festival’s line-up isn’t quite as A-list as Benicassim’s but at half the price for as many days, it is well worth the money.

Dates: 1^st – 4^th of August

Pick of the 2013 line-up: The Kooks; Editors; Klaxons; The Fratellis; The Macabees; Chase & Status; Ra Ra Riot; The Whip

Price of ticket with camping: €80 (+ ‘boat’)

Official website

Arenal Sound (Source)

Sonar takes place in Barcelona in mid June, and has earned itself a reputation for offering something many of the other Spanish festivals discernibly lack; modern art. This festival is as visually pleasing as it is audibly, with a marked emphasis on creativity and originality. Artists range from the world-renowned to the unfamiliar, and the music offered spans across all electronic genres. It’s expensive, though tickets can be bought for either the daytime or nighttime or both. However, there is no camping at Sonar – that’s way too predictable.

Dates: 13^th – 15^th of June

Pick of the 2013 line-up: Justice; Two Door Cinema Club; Pet Shop Boys; Skrillex; Kraftwerk; Jurassic 5; Soulwax; Modeselektor

Price of two-night ticket: €115 (no camping)

Official Website

Sonar

Large (25,000 – 50,000)

Despite its name – ‘Spring’ in English – I’m still including Primavera Sound in this post; it’d be a glaring oversight if I didn’t. It is smaller than Sonar – the other Barcelona based festival – yet seems to be more popular in any case. According to the website, weekend tickets are already sold out for this year, but then if you consider its eclectic, stellar lineup for 2013 then its no wonder really.

Dates: 22^nd – 26^th of May

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Crystal Castles; Animal Collective; Blur; The Postal Service; Knife Party; Phoenix; Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds; Wu-Tang Clan

Price of day ticket: €80

Official website

Primavera Sound (Source)

If there’s one festival that couldn’t be surer of itself then Sonisphere is it. There’s no room for novel, pompous genres here; it’s metal, metal and more metal. And if you don’t like it, well then you can swivel and then DIIIEEE!!! WAAAHHH!!! No. I’m sure they’re all lovely people. The festival will take place in both Madrid and Barcelona, on two separate nights.

Dates: 31^st May (Madrid), 1^st June (Barcelona)

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Iron Maiden; Megadeath; Anthrax

Price of ticket: €59

Official Website

Sonisphere

For the absolute deal of the summer, head to Bilbao BBK Live. The festival is now in its seventh year, and 2013 is shaping up to be the best yet. The event takes place in a huge 110,000 m² park and is growing in size every year. It’s also in Bilbao, which is hands down one of the coolest cities I’ve ever visited. Watch out FIB and Sonar is all I can say – BBK is rapidly cementing itself as a contender for Spain’s champion festival.

Dates: 11^th – 14^th of July

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Green Day; Kings Of Leon; Depeche Mode; Billy Talent; Editors; The Hives; Klaxons; Fat Boy Slim

Price of weekend ticket: €90 with camping!!!

Official website

Bilbao BBK Live (Source)

In the middle of the desert somewhere between Zaragoza and Tarragona, you’ll find Monegros Festival, come one Saturday in late July. Here, for one night only, an army of around 40,000 people rave nonstop to the sound of thumping electro beats and rhythms for 20 hours. Once you’re in, there’s no getting back out. Take plenty of water and suncream.

Date: 20^th of July

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Underworld; Bloody Beetroots; Vitalic; Public Enemy; Richie Hawtin; Luciano; Marco Corola; Loco Dice

Price of ticket: €65

Official website

Monegros (Source)

Ever fancied going to Benidorm? Though not. But don’t write it off just yet – it seems the definitive Brits abroad package holiday destination has been going through some rigorous image counselling, and with the comically yet appealingly named Low Cost Festival now set to rock its sandal and sock strewn shores for a fifth consecutive year, it looks as though it is working. The festival is building itself quite a chic image and this year’s show of talent is looking very exciting indeed.

Dates: 26^th – 29 July

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Portishead; Belle & Sebastian; Two Door Cinema Club; Crystal Castles; Glasvegas; Simian Mobile Disco

Price of ticket: €60 (camping: €10 per night)

Official website

Low Cost Festival (Source)

Small(er) (8,000 – 25,000)

Smaller, yes; small, No. I get lost in crowds of less than fifty so anything above 8,000 still amounts to a sh*t load of people in my mind. These smaller festivals tend to start the ball rolling in late springtime; and the first is now just days away.

SOS 4.8 will be held in Murcia this weekend, and looks to have generated quite a bit of interest here in Granada, especially among Erasmus students. I’m going too of course! And I couldn’t be more excited, despite still not really knowing where I’m going to sleep. It’s a proper bargain, and the musical talent in the offing is of a pretty darn exceptional standard.

Dates: 3^rd – 5^th May

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Bloc Party; The xx; Justice; M83; Modeselektor; Vitalic; Crystal Fighters; Los Punsetes

Price of 2-night ticket: €55 (though early bird tickets are something like €35)

Official website

SOS 4.8 (Source)

Fast-forward two weeks and it’s the turn of Seville’s Territorios Sevilla, which, despite its comparatively smaller capacity at 15,000, probably offers the most diverse and multinational lineup. It’s a two-night bash taking place in the centre of the city, and is a refreshing variation from the usual feria-fixated feel during the spring/summer time. However, it does tend to blow a considerable chunk of its budget on the headliners, evidenced by the fact that nobody ever has a clue who any of the other artists are. As I say though – diverse and multinational. I’ve been before and it was smashingly good fun.

Dates: 17^th – 18^th May

Pick of the 2013 lineup: Fat Boy Slim; 2Many DJs; Emir Kusturika & The No Smoking Orchestra; Fangoria; Standstill

Price of ticket: €30

Official website

Territorios Sevilla (Source)

Festivals are awesome. Go to one.

View from the peak of Monte Traveque

‘Hiking’ is not one of my hobbies. To be honest, I have rarely hiked anywhere if the upshot of it hasn’t involved me being able to turn around, strap myself to a snowboard and hurl myself back down from whence I came. I’ve been up Machu Picchu and – wait for it – Ben Nevis before, and both climbs were thoroughly enjoyable and memorable to say the least, but neither experience left any irrevocable longing to partake in the practice on a regular basis.

I’m not so sure of that anymore.

Last Saturday, I was invited by a group of friends to join them for a day’s hiking in the stunning Sierra Nevada mountain range. The chosen trail was the long, gravelly and rugged route up to the peak of Monte Trevenque – known to locals as ‘El rey’ (ooh er), followed by a walk through the cascading terrains of Las Cahorros in Monachil if time permitted it. Other than passing through on my way to the ski resort, I’d never been to Monachil nor any of its surrounding areas before. It was a no-brainer.

Next morning, we left Granada aboard the 181 bus and arrived in Monachil at around 11am. We were supposed to meet several others and our guide for the day but in typical Spanish Sunday style, things had gotten off to a slow start. A quick snooze, one revitalising glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and about an hour and a half later, and we were finally piling into the back of a Citroen hatchback so that we could be taken to the starting point of the 10km round hike.

The route starts near Fuente del Hervidero, a traditional country fare restaurant situated on the edge of the Sierra Nevada national park, though most walkers generally begin at the car park a km or so further up the road. This, sensibly, is what we did, though not before stopping to fill several plastic 2L bottles at the restaurant’s fresh mountain water reserve – an importance that cannot be underestimated given the entirely exposed locale of the mountainous domain.

It begins…

We set off in zipped up sweaters under a cloudy sky, though only a matter of minutes had passed before the sun broke through and the layers were being stuffed back into rucksacks. For at least an hour, the terrain maintained a very steady incline, which zigzagged its way around the sandy wastelands, offering splendid views of the lower-lying Las Arenales along the way.

Squint and you’ll be able to read it…

Our guide, Wayne – an outgoing, brawny and Manchester bred fella (ey up!)  – was already a friend of ours, and had offered to take us out for a very agreeable fee. He was a living and breathing brochure for the Sierra Nevada – full of facts and answers to any questions we posed to him. I only wish he had told me about the callous and spiky-natured plant life along the trail before I accidentally grabbed a handful of one in order to stop myself from falling. I’m still plucking splinters out of my fingers from that almost a week later.

Further along we stopped beneath a cluster of jagged rock-forms perched on top of a sandy mound. We raced to the tip of the highest one where we mucked about pretending to be apes in 2001: A Space Odyssey for a bit, and then stopped being silly and carried on.

Aren’t we a wild bunch?

Eventually, the route began to steepen, and before we knew it, the gravel was slipping away from beneath our boots (or in my case a pair of hole-ridden converse). The peak loomed in front of us, yet still seemed miles away. Some climbers on their way back down bid us a cheerful ‘hola’, while others warned of the ridge’s sharp increase in steepness towards the top. Honesty is good.

“Take small steps and tread with the soles of your feet!” yelled Wayne from behind me.

Small steps, soles of feet, small steps, soles of feet. Keeeep it steady…

What a view…

Miraculously, each of us made it to the summit without slipping. Dare I say we were beginning to feel like seasoned pros.

There we stood at 2079m overlooking the entire Sierra Nevada national park. It was magnificent. Below us the rolling rises and arid plateaus stretched out to the shimmering haze of Granada on the horizon, and up in the distance between various other mountain ranges, we could even see the ski resort’s La Laguna chairlift where some of us had been exactly a week before.

La Laguna Chairlift, Sierra Nevada Ski Resort

Yo

We were in no hurry to begin the descent, so we took our time snacking, gazing, exploring and even napping in some cases. Wayne pointed out a couple of tiny manger displays at the highest point, which had been assembled by a visiting Catholic group on a recent trip. A pair of Ibex that showed up minutes later proved far more interesting to watch. Surprisingly, neither seemed particularly bothered that we were just a few feet away from them, though they did get a bit iffy when my friend attempted to close in for a closer look.

Da Crib

Crazy Fool

It won’t work…

Best photo I’ve taken yet?

Eventually, we got moving again, treading even more carefully than before. The descent is a lot more dangerous, and takes its toll on your legs. If you’re very surefooted and half mad then like Wayne and aforementioned friend you might prefer to jump and skid your way down (the gravelly section). Personally, I was content to continue with the ‘small steps, soles of feet’ approach. I prefer not to tempt fate.

Small steps, soles of feet…

Horses in the Dry Valley

Just as the gradient eased off we moved into La Rambla, a dusty, dried up river valley with very little vegetation. Sooner or later, this developed into a small pass that led us back to the route where we had originally started. Before long, we were chomping on giant olives and sipping ice-cold tubos back at the restaurant. Annoyingly, the kitchen had already closed – even though there appeared to be various other groups returning from lengthy walks, all equally as famished. Why I ask? Why!?

Yeah we just climbed that!

It was late by the time we arrived at Los Cahorros, a sprawling, waterfall abounding area just twenty or so minutes from the town of Monachil. Our group size had reduced to four, including Wayne, and rather predictably there was nobody else around at 7pm. We had the whole place to ourselves.

It was lots of fun; from scrambling under or around protruding rocks that blocked our path to scampering beneath gushing waterfalls and along wobbly rope bridges, our tired legs – unbelievably – still had some energy left in them. At one point we passed a bikini top that had been nailed to a rock hanging over the stream. According to Wayne, its previous owner had climbed from underneath the overhang and up the front side, simply to prove that she had managed such a feat by flaunting the colourful garment for all to see. We were suitably impressed, though apparently not enough for me to remember to take a photo of it. Doh!

Los Cahorros

The rope bridge suspended over the falls. Bring’s out the Indiana Jones in anyone.

The day finished with yet more beer and generous portions of carne en salsa at one of Wayne’s favourite local bars. We all agreed that it was undoubtedly the best carne and salsa any of us had ever had, ever.

Whether you’re into hiking or not, The Cuerda del Trevenque and Los Cahorros are two gems well worth investigating, though the former is considered to be one of the more difficult routes throughout the park, so maybe start smaller if you’re not match fit so to speak. The best time to visit is in late spring, after all the snow has disappeared and before the heat becomes insufferable.

I found this blog that has a lot of useful information for anybody keen to learn more. I know I’ll be using it a fair bit from now on anyway…

 Have you been hiking in the Sierra Nevada? Where else is worth going to? Any suggestions most welcome!

10.20am

15.55pm

“Esquiar por la mañana y tomar el sol en la playa por la tarde!”

­–

“Ski in the morning and sunbathe on the beach in the afternoon!”

That’s how the saying goes here in Granada. Personally, I had always been a little dubious. Not in the sense that I didn’t believe the feat was possible, just as to whether the trip was actually worth the hassle. I mean, snow-covered mountains, albeit much higher up than the stony beaches to the south, must surely be an indication of not-so-hot ground level temperatures? And all that travelling to and fro; hiring a car if you don’t already have one; and the cost of a lift pass that you’d only use for half a day? Hmm.

The idea seemed far-fetched, if not imprudent. But then I asked myself, where’s the fun in life if every now and again a little imprudence isn’t applied to an otherwise perfectly prudent situation? All it had taken was a sudden heat wave and for one friend to casually suggest the idea and I was sold; if there ever was a time to do it, that time was now (or then, rather). We would see this niggling and unproven myth busted right open, and not become disillusioned by mounting expenses or the inevitable struggle of having to tear ourselves away from the mountain come lunch time.

A car was hired for the weekend, which, split between four, wasn’t at all as costly as we had anticipated (see price breakdown below), and better still, the weekend’s weather forecast couldn’t have looked more promising.

The objective was simple: Arrive at the Sierra Nevada for around 08.30am in time for the first lift, ski relentlessly until 13.00pm, grab lunch, hit the road and be at the beach with beer in hand for 15.00pm. It was on.

P2P LOG

07.45am

We awake to crisp, cloudless skies, and begin the day with the galling task of having to wedge our skis, boards, boots, beach bags, sandwiches and springtime, animal-themed onesies into the back of our awfully cramped Ford Fiesta. Eventually, after an accidental detour into the abyss of Granada’s one-way street maze, we are on our way.

09.40am

We finally shuffle into the Telecabina cable car and begin ascending the mountain, though we are already way behind schedule. Traffic had been scarce along the way but a combination of lengthy queuing, impromptu toilet breaks and my apparent inability to dress myself into a giraffe suit had held us up. Sun is shining brightly though, and it’s smiles all round.

09.55am

The snow, as we had expected, is pure slush, which means gathering speed will be hard, but the pistes are looking surprisingly bare, given that it’s a Sunday. Slush can still be fun anyhow. We make the quick descent to the Stadium chair and dare I say turn a few jealous heads as we zip past in our effortlessly trendy garb.

10.15am

There’s less slush at the top, but a bit of a draft that sets off an uncomfortable spell of nipple chafage. It soon wanes however, as we waste no time in launching ourselves back whence we came.

11.30am

With two mandatory runs down the stadium completed, we plot our next foray. We spy that Laguna – a run that for one reason or another has eluded us each time we have visited – is open. We make a beeline for its entrance, which involves crossing another, wide and often quite busy piste to get to. Earlier this season I discovered that at the expense of one very indignant skier. This time though, there are far less people to worry about, and despite the stickiness of the increasingly watery slush, other snowboarding friend and I manage to make it across in one clean sweep (skiers needn’t worry what with those stabilizers poles they use).

11.45am

I get bored of the flat section and veer off-piste. Big mistake. We are on the backside of the mountain now, which up until this point has seen very little sunlight. Thus, rather than the mushy slushy stuff I was actually rather beginning to enjoy, I am met with a steep grade of rock-hard ice, which then develops into actual rocks. Thankfully, I am able to quickly dodge and navigate my way through without falling or scratching my board (much).

12.30pm

Back at Laguna’s summit, we head as far right as possible, to where there appears to be some actual snow. We are wrong. It’s just more ice slowly melting into slush, though we do find a nice jump, which, after a rather wobbly run-up, I fling myself from with one arm flailing in my wake.

13.00pm

Time for a stroll in the Sulayr superpark. Things have improved since our last outing – at least at the top anyway. Three more boxes and a slanting picnic table have been added, and features of the resort’s recent Freestyle World Cup still remain, though almost all of the jumps are unworkable due to yet more slush. Further down, however, there is a nice beginner section that allows for fast grabs and mini spins. Fortunately, I do not almost kill myself like the last time, though the giraffe onesy at this point has become extremely sweaty. One more run and it’s back to the bottom for a quick bite to eat and Piste 2 Playa part two.

14.30pm

Fed, changed and almost an hour and a half behind schedule, we finally exit the resort and begin the race down to the coast. The overabundance of slush had meant that it wasn’t as difficult to drag ourselves away.

Playa de Cantarriján is the chosen destination. I have kept my onesy on so I can have my photo taken in the same clothes on the mountain and the beach. This, rather predictably, turns out to be another big mistake, as the temperature seems to increase by at least half a degree for every mile we cover. Photos are taken and some high-pitched whoops are let out before I promptly fall into a dribbling coma.

The car clock was an hour behind…

15.45pm

I awake to a cheer. We have arrived at Cantarriján, a small, secluded beach just beyond Almuñecar, where, judging by first glance, there doesn’t appear to be an awful lot of beachgoers. I am dripping wet by now, but refuse to remove my novelty outfit until that memorable snapshot is taken. We make our way from the car park.

15.47pm

So it turns out Cantarriján is a nudist beach, yet as we saunter past the restaurant and onto the scrabrous sands the only oddball being gawped at is me. In fact I could not be dressed more inappropriately. The photos are promptly taken, the onesy duly taken – sorry – peeled off and the afternoon’s first beverage cracked open and swiftly consumed. We’ve done it.

Highly inappropriate garb for a nudist beach

16.15pm

Time for a dip in the sea. We last a mere 10 seconds before retreating in tandem with an outburst of squealing more redolent of a group of 12-year old girls. It’s back to the towels, where we eventually pass out to the sound of woozy indie music and gentle waves lapping against the shore.

17.40pm

We awake, and sluggishly make our way to the beachside restaurant for an early dinner. The views, if you’ll forgive the surfeit of unkempt genitalia on show, are wonderful, and the food – freshly caught Bacalao served with chips and steamed veg – and accompanying mojitos go down very well indeed.

20.00pm

As the last of the sun’s rays finally disappears behind the craggy overhang, we concede that it is time to leave. We cram ourselves back into the Fiesta and begin the steady climb to the highway.

Delish

20.05pm

The car boot is wide open, and none of us have noticed.

“Maletero abierto?” my friend says bewilderedly as she points to the dashboard.

“Shit. The boot’s open” replies another, as we suddenly break.

We each envisage a snowboard skidding its way down the hill and ending up beneath the wheel of an unsuspecting vehicle. Fortunately, all skis and snowboards are still with us, but we learn from the next car to arrive that a Tupperware box had been narrowly averted a few corners back. It was mine.

“Step on it” I tell my friend, “we are not leaving without it”. I’m not joking – that Tupperware box is an essential vessel for mountain fodder and I’d be hard-pressed to find another one as good. Thankfully, the box is retrieved and we can all breathe a sigh of relief. The journey recommences.

20.25pm

Stuck in heavy traffic. Not looking good for getting the car back to the hire office (at Granada airport) on time.

22.15pm

Made it – with fifteen minutes to spare, though we have just missed the bus back to Granada city centre and must wait for another that leaves at 23.00pm. No matter. We crumple to a heap among our bags, boards and skis and reflect on what has been a truly epic day. Mission complete.

Fail

The trip was well worth doing, despite my initial uncertainty, and will most definitely be repeated next season. Unfortunately it also marked our last day at the Sierra Nevada for this season, which by the way, has been brilliant, even if I did only make it up six times.

Here’s a breakdown of the cost of our ‘piste 2 playa’ daytrip:

Car Hire: €35

Car Hire Insurance (optional): €36

Petrol: €45

Total (split between four): €115

Ski pass: €41

Parking Fee (between four): €10

Ski rental (if you don’t have your own equipment): €20

Other expenses

Lunch at the beach: €11

Two mojitos: €10

Has anybody else ever attempted this grand challenge? Would you now you know that its doable? Please share and comment!

Robin, who hails from a distinctly less sunnier Dublin, now lives in and writes about Tarifa – Spain and indeed Europe’s southernmost point – which I suppose is how the blog got its name, given the small surfing town’s ocean exposed setting. Today’s inquisition probes into just what led Robin to be where he is today, thoughts on ‘expat experts’ and what, other than a lot of wind, is so lovely about Tarifa.

Let’s get started.

Name: Robin Graham

From: Dublin

Occupation: A one word question that begets a long meandering answer – let’s just say writer.

Time in Spain: A few months short of three years – I came in August 2010.

About Blog: Well, it isn’t really a travel blog although I’ve had a good bit of support from that community. I don’t like the term ‘expat blog’. I’ll be honest with you – I don’t think much of the term ‘blog’. I just try to hold myself to a weekly deadline and to get something down that feels like I’ve made an effort. That I’ve written some kind of story. It probably doesn’t get the kind of traffic that someone with commercial targets would be looking for, but people react well to it, and tend to stick around.

Questions:

1. Complete this sentence:

“Spain is a ROUGH and READY sort of country, filled with NOISE, BEAUTY and DRAMA. However, there are too many EXPAT EXPERTS WHO THINK THEY HAVE SPAIN AND THE SPANISH FIGURED OUT and not enough HUMILITY OR OPTIMISM.

2. Why did you move to Spain? Why Tarifa?

Two different answers – Spain because I already had a (fairly tenuous) connection with the place, having briefly lived here as a child and experienced heat and Madrid life and delicious exotic food and all the rest of it. A love for the country never left me. Later, I decided to implement my mid-life crisis on the early side, at around the age of 38, and on a holiday to Granada we fell in love with it and decided to make the move and see what happened.

Tarifa – because my partner found work in Gibraltar and we needed to be within commutable distance of it. Of the many options, we disliked most.  We found Tarifa using Google Earth, believe it or not, and its key role in Spain’s Arab history as well as its natural beauty appealed. It isn’t that close to Gibraltar but it was the nearest place that appealed to us so strongly.

3. What is one of Tarifa’s best kept secrets? 

An Italian community is sufficiently well established here that I can pick up good Burata mozzarella cheese around the corner. I couldn’t find that when I lived in Dublin.

4. How would you describe the culture there? What type of people tend to thrive, and what type don’t do as well? 

No pat answer to this – Tarifa is a mixture. Up till around 30 years ago it was a genuinely rural, fairly poor and deeply andaluz place. Still is deeply andaluz if you ask me but more recently there has been an influx of kite surf enthusiasts and, at least on the surface, it has become fairly cosmopolitan and “surfy”. I’ll reserve judgement on what type of person might thrive here as I’m engaged in the effort myself.

5. What have been (briefly) the best three experiences you’ve had since moving here? 

Impossible, Josh! There’s a giant sand dune a little up the coast. I remember sitting up on it in the middle of the night with K. No wind, no sound. Starry sky, African coast.

We went to a cheese tasting one time because we’d been invited. It was the first invitation we’d had, and we socialized that night in Spanish for the first time.

Each time we go back to Granada we feel more embedded in Spain. Our visits there are a yardstick for us.

6. What has been the worst? And how could it have been avoided? 

Some days, especially in the first year but also in the second and even the third, you can feel lonely and isolated. You speak reasonable Spanish but you still miss loads, especially in Andalucia. I suppose it could be avoided by sticking to expat friends but we don’t want that, so you just plough ahead.

7. How much Spanish could you speak before you moved to Spain? What’s the best way to learn? 

I spoke very rudimentary, greetings level Spanish. I don’t know the best way to learn. By really, really wanting to learn, probably. We are upper intermediate now, maybe lower advanced on a good day, working on fluency.

8. Money is a thorny issue for any would-be expat. Do you have any tips on working, saving, banking etc?

In short, no.

9. Finally, what’s the best photo you’ve ever taken in Spain? Tell us about it!

Impossible! There’s one I took down on the beach that people seem to like. Black and white, a life guard tower and a summer sky. Very simple. But I take a lot of photos (I’m also a photographer) so picking one really is impossible.

Click here to go to Robin’s blog, and here to take a look at his impressive photography portfolio.

Paseo Sarasate, Pamplona

I hadn’t planned to go to Pamplona. Originally, my semana santa plan of action was to spend just two nights in Bilbao (which developed into three after I realised how much I loved the place/that the Guggenheim was closed on Mondays), three nights in San Sebastián (which was reduced to two after I realised I was actually rather bored) and one night in Santander (which just gradually, for some reason, became less and less appealing).

If truth be told, my decision to go to Pamplona was based purely on one man’s recommendation and the alleged fact that I was more likely to encounter Basque being casually spoken in the streets, even though Pamplona isn’t actually a part of País Vasco. There also happened to be a couchsurfing night on which, judging by the number of confirmed attendees pre-departure, looked to be a rather promising climax to my trip.

Paseo Sarasate, Pamplona

Until that day, the city hadn’t even been on the radar. All I knew about it was that once a year its inhabitants allowed a drove of disoriented and understandably irked bulls to gallop around the city for an entire day, which, to be honest, wasn’t something high up on my to-do list, given the fact I am completely against animal cruelty and I am – not unlike most I imagine – shit scared of bulls. I’ve heard the stories; seen the horrifying Youtube videos; and been charged at in a field when I was about 10. Placing myself within the immediate vicinity of one of these unforgiving beasts was not on my bucket list, oddly enough.

Perhaps I was being slightly naïve. Well, I was definitely being slightly naïve, as it turned out. When I met my eleventh-hour couchsurfing host in Pamplona, just half an hour after arriving and three hours after deciding that I would go, my previously uneducated opinion on the matter quickly began to manifest itself. My host, Nacho, met me by the city’s famed ayuntamiento building and readily pointed out to me how various metal bollards that are usually kept hidden within the ground are raised during San Fermín, in order to protect spectators. Apparently, they could be found all over the city.

Ayuntamiento de Pamplona

Not that bollard spotting was something I felt particularly enthused about, but I’d soon find out in any case, as a bike was pushed in my direction moments after we arrived at Nacho’s flat.

“It’s going to rain tomorrow”, he proclaimed with a smile, “so I take you on a bike ride to see the city today!”

Moments like this reminded me why I love couchsurfing so much. It really is the best way of meeting people when travelling – a couch or bed for the night is merely a bonus.

Off we went, beginning the tour where the bulls themselves are let loose into the city. First, we passed a tiny, doll-sized porcelain model of San Fermín which stood behind a glass panel in the brick wall beyond the ayuntamiento building – something that would have completely passed me by had it not been for Nacho’s local knowledge.

San Fermín, fun-sized

Iglesia de Santo Domingo

Old Town

Hemingway is still a big deal in Pamplona. He put them on the map after all…

Next, we came upon a park filled with ducks, geese, peacocks and other feathery creatures. I’m pretty sure I kept it locked but I am also, embarrassingly, shit scared of geese. Well not scared…scared, just massively uncomfortable around them. I can’t be certain, but I’m fairly sure I was chased by a gaggle of them when I was little, after innocently tossing a few chunks of bread at some ducks, who were then ambushed. The memory is hazy, but on the rare occasion that I actually do encounter geese, that same sudden pang of panic hits me, and I just need to get out of there. I envisaged my own hellish version of San Fermín: the running of the geese. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to run anywhere, as there was an 8ft wall between us, and I had a bike to escape on if it somehow managed to sense my fear and fly at me. On the upside I did see a black swan for the first time. Take a look:

Cisne negro en el parque de la Taconera, Pamplona

Parque de la Taconera, Pamplona

With the geese in our wake, we pedaled on toward Pamplona’s 16^th century fortress so I could soak up a bit of history. The castle was built under the rule of King Phillip II, who later had the city bounded by walls so as to keep out the French and any other unwelcome guests. For hundreds of years after the city could only develop within these walls, as Pamplona served as one of northern Spain’s most fortified of military footholds. The walls – visibly ravaged by war – still stand today. One we passed had a small opening with a metal pane barricading its entrance. Again, I’d never have noticed if Nacho hadn’t stopped to tell me all about it.

“Tunnels like these stretch for miles, and were used for eavesdropping”, he explained, “people would be sent down them for days at a time and remain in absolute silence so that any enemy strikes or ill-intentioned conversations between conspirers could be preempted back at the fortress”.

Secret Passage. Ooohhh!!!

Nacho was full of interesting information, and could have easily fooled me into thinking he was an actual tour guide.

That evening, he and I headed out to a bar to meet other couchsurfers of the Pamplona community, some of whom had other travellers staying with them. We were the first to arrive but before long others were blowing in thick and fast. Eventually the bar was swarming with Spanglish speaking couchsurfers, mingling to no end. Beer and pintxos were lavishly consumed, and contact details for future reference affably exchanged. In truth, it was a real eye-opener of a night; how, and why on earth had I been missing out on this scene in Granada?

Next day, I unsurprisingly awoke to a merciless hangover that kept me prisoner for the rest of the early afternoon.

“The solution is easy!” declared Nacho. “We will go to other bar to drink more!”

Despite my lack of enthusiasm I really did admire the guy’s adeptness at hosting – and drinking for that matter – he’d certainly fit in with my usual crowd at home.

“Ahh. Hair of the dog” I replied.

“Como?”

“Err, ‘pelo del perro?’”

“Que dices hombre? Vístete! Vamos muy pronto.” What are you on about mate? Get dressed. We’re leaving very soon.

Fair enough. I could hardly rebuff such a proposal after all that he had done for me thus far. His house, his rules.

Half an hour later, I watched with one dry, bloodshot eye as a grinning barman poured me a locally brewed cidra (cider) whilst the other got to work on locating the bathroom just in case I needed to pay an impromptu visit (I wasn’t cross-eyed). Nacho and his friend who’d joined us were evidently less effected, or just way more macho than I was, as they got started on a couple of Perucci Martinis. My cider was only a 250ml measure but lasted me a good hour.

Cidra y Perucci Martinis

As we chatted outside, Nacho suddenly nodded in the direction of a family standing to our left. They were speaking Basque. Weirdly, it more or less involved another mother telling off her children, though on the previous occasion I hadn’t managed to retain a lot of what I’d heard believe it or not. It was a lot clearer this time, though still an utter mystery.

Several remedial pintxos and photos of the world’s third largest Plaza de Toros later and I was headed back to the bus station, in the absolute pissing rain, feeling rather pleased with my brief but decidedly satisfying trip. Pamplona – minus all the fuss and bustle of San Fermín – is a city worth visiting any time of the year.

Plaza de Toros, Pamplona

Me, bike and ayuntamiento, Pamplona

Have you been to Pamplona? Would you like to go? Do leave a comment!

The only thing I could be sure of before heading to País Vasco was that I was going to eat well; anybody I spoke to who had been before would probably have testified to it in a court of law had they been given the chance.

“Dios mio que suerte! La comida alli es increíble!” they would more or less say.

“Me traigas un pintxo vale?”

Hmm. Bring you one back? Wouldn’t a fancy tapa along Calle Navas suffice instead?

They were joking of course, but when I arrived at Bar Txalupa – my first Pintxo bar in San Sebastián – cold, sodden and starving, I quickly realized that such a request – whether it had been a joke or not – wasn’t so unreasonable after all. The overflowing dishes of elaborately concocted pintxos looked fit for a king. Choosing which I was going to devour first was a tough decision to take. Eventually though, I settled for the elegant jamón and goat’s cheese salad tostada and sweet tuna mayo-stuffed, red pepper. Both of them were practically inhaled at the cost of €2.50 each (without a drink included). A budget lunch in San Sebastián, it seemed, was not an easy thing to come by.

Pintxo de jamón y queso de cabra y pintxo de pimienta roja con atún. Divine.

Next, my couchsurfing host, Luis – author of ‘Aquel Año Erasmus’ – led me to his personal favourite, Bar Juantxo, where the pintxos were apparently a tad more agreeably priced and just as appetizing. We arrived and waded in through the jostling crowd. Beside the Spanish menu was one written in Euskera. ‘Time to flex my lingo skills’ I thought, ‘how hard can it be if it’s written in front of me?’ I gave it my best shot, and was met with first a smile, and then the translated version in Castellano. ‘Si’ I replied with a sigh. I’d managed my first proper Basque sentence but the fact that the barman had answered in Spanish irked me, just as it used to when Spanish people spoke to me in English when I was trying my hardest to spit out a sentence in Spanish. At least I knew I’d got it right.

Bocadillo de lomo y pimiento rojo

(Source)

The food was just as gratifying as Luis had promised, and notably cheaper, at just €2 a pintxo, and €3 for a larger bocadillo. I went for a pork and pepper baguette and another wedge of ham-topped tortilla. The highlight though, was hearing Euskera spoken properly for the first time. It came from a family sitting to our left, and largely involved a mother scolding her children for chasing each other around the room. I wouldn’t have known if Luis hadn’t pointed it out. When I tuned in, it honestly sounded as though it could have been any foreign language; I couldn’t relate in any way whatsoever, except for that it seemed to have the same rhythm as Castellano. That’s when it hit me that I could have already heard Euskera on numerous occasions in Bilbao but had simply failed to realise it.

Pintxod out, I spent the rest of the afternoon making hay while the sun still shone. Unfortunately, a broad layer of dreary, txirimiri (basque for ‘drizzle’) tipping clouds choked most of that sunshine out, leaving me somewhat underwhelmed by my environs. Next day, however, it opened up a bit, and in between yet more pintxos, I spent the afternoon wandering San Sebastián’s parte vieja and unhurriedly climbing the littoral, castle-topped Monte Urgull, which overlooks the city and offers sweeping views. The sky at the mount’s summit was still overcast, but inadvertently provided a brilliant, spooky sort of backdrop to the small island of Santa Clara, which lies just 700m from the curved Playa de la Concha.

La Parte Vieja (The Old Town) 

La Catedral

Iglesia de Santa María

The Door of Santa María

Views from Monte Urgull

San Sebastián

Statue of Jesus atop Monte Urgull

Isla de Santa Clara

More Pintxos

Casa Vergana, Calle Mayor

I enjoyed my time in San Sebastián, and could see why many people insist on the city being the highlight of the Basque region – there’s a certain ecclesiastical charm about the place that is lacking in neighbouring Bilbao – but things get rather quiet in the evening. Spain were playing France in a World Cup qualifier match one of the nights I was there, which in Andalucía would warrant jam-packed bars on every street corner, but you’d be forgiven for thinking there had been a recent outbreak of the plague in San Sebastián; it was dead, and those out for a drink seemed to be totally unconcerned about the football. In a way, it was a refreshing change, but a surprising one nonetheless.

Making music on Zurriola Bridge

San Sebastián, or Donostia, as it is called in Euskera, is definitely a daytime city, which revolves around its inimitable gastronomy scene. There’re plenty of tasty tapas elsewhere in Spain, but you’ll have to come here if you really want to sample Spanish cuisine at its absolute best. Take it from me, a newly converted pintxo aficionado who guzzled back no less than eleven of the toothsome treats in just under 48 hours. And for the record, I actually did attempt to bring a couple back to Granada, though they were accidentally eaten on the plane.

Surfers on Playa de Gros

Have you been to San Sebastián? What’s the best pintxo you’ve ever had?