A Quick Word About Sant Jordi..

I'm a little late in writing this, as Sant Jordi was on Thursday- but I couldn't lose the opportunity to write about this wonderful Catalan festival.

When I first walked around Barcelona, I wondered why there were England flags etched into all of the Gothic walls. It was only during a Gothic Quarter walking tour that all was revealed...my home country and Catalonia actually share the same patron saint, St. George, or Sant Jordi- and so of course share the same flag. The legend seems very similar- there is still a dragon and a princess- just with a slight Catalan twist.

Throughout the year, my Catalan friends have been telling me that La Diada de Sant Jordi is their favourite festival. You see, Sant Jordi is like Valentine's Day for Catalans- a time to celebrate love, literacy, and the patron saint of Catalonia. Traditionally, women receive a rose and men receive a book; today, although this custom still stands, it seems to have evolved into more of a joint rose/book festival that everybody can enjoy.

So where did the very unique tradition of books come from? According to that good ol' reliable resource, Wikipedia, it all started in 1923, when a bookseller wanted to commemorate the simultaneous deaths of Miguel Cervantes and William Shakespeare on 23rd April, 1616.  Before long, Barcelona's natural creative energy ensured that this became a regular part of La Dia de Sant Jordi, and today the two are inseperable.

All day, every street has dozens of stands selling hundreds of books; some of the bigger streets, such as La Rambla and Rambla Cataluyna, even had authors signing their books as well. Any festival that involves giving books is fantastic in my book (pun completely intended). It even made seeing numerous amorous couples everywhere a little more bearable (although in Barcelona, this is not such an uncommon sight anyway!). Seeing queues of people outside bookshops was a wonderful sight- it gives me hope that there the traditional bookshop is not dying out everywhere.

I did not give a book, but I did receive two roses- one from one of my students, and the other from my boss. I'm already looking forward to next year's celebration- who knows, maybe I'll even get a book next time??..

Here is a little taster of what Rambla Cataluyna looked like on the afternoon of Sant Jordi. Enjoy!

One of my roses! They are all decorated with a sprig of wheat...a nice kooky twist!

Gora Gora, Donostia! A Sweet, Fleeting Visit to the Basque Country...

Here I am, starting this blog on the bus back from San Sebastian, or Donostia as it is alternatively called. It's raining, we still have 7 hours to go, and I'm a little delicate after last night- but I am still feeling pretty fantastic right now. We were in the gorgeous Basque country for less than 48 hours- but it felt more like a week, in the best possible way.

Ever since my Basque friend, Lide, told us about the infamous Basque cider-house, or sagardotegi, we have wanted to see what it was all about. It sounded like just the kind of thing I would love- cider and food in a rustic setting. By sheer luck, we managed to find a cheap flight to San Sebastian; apparently, these are difficult to come by. Only catch was that it left at the ungodly hour of 7am. Many people clearly felt the same, as the flight was half empty. However, it was perfect for us, as it gave us a rare opportunity to land in an airport that is right on the border between France and Spain. Not only that, Hondarribia- with its harbourside location and colourful fusion architecture in the old town- is well worth a visit in itself. With everything cast in a gentle, hazy morning light, we had a very pretty, peaceful welcome into the Basque country.

View from the runway, arriving into San Sebastian airport...

All of this seen...and it was only 10 am. Saturday mornings are never usually this productive! We caught the bus to Donostia, where we quickly learned that our Airbnb was on the other side of the city. However, we were pretty lucky in 3 respects: 1) San Sebastian is a fairly small city. 2) It was uncharacteristically sunny (the Basque country can have very English weather) 3) We had a lovely beachside route all the way. Even though our apartment was a little away from the old town, I would still recommend it- it was a good size for 4 people, close to the beach, and walking distance from a famous Basque Sculpture, the Peine de los Vientos (or the 'Brush of the Winds').

There is always something quite stirring about sculptures built into nature. The sheer process of installing it deserves admiration; sculptures in themselves are time-consuming, let alone if you have to make sure it stays attached to a tall rock. Also, subjected to the elements, the art itself is evolving; as the rocks erode and the metal rusts, el Peine continues to offer visitors new experiences over time. While we were lucky enough to see the metallic sculpture on a calm, sunny day, my friend Laura mentioned that the last time she had seen this sculpture, the sea was crashing over the walls where we were sitting, and water was spouting up dramatically out of the potholes. It's great that this sculpture has such a personality; I would love to see it again on a stormy day.

El Peine de los Vientos

All the girls!

Peine selfie

As we walked away from the Peine, I laughed, "What was the weather forecast talking about? The skies are blue with wispy clouds! No sign of rain." Famous last words, as they say. I looked behind again- almost as though the heavens had heard me and decided to immediately contradict, a black cloud was ominously covering the city. Walking a little faster, we headed straight to the old town, where the much-anticipated pintxos route could begin!

Now, it's difficult to talk about our pintxos afternoon without just gushing about the food- but we had some of the best food I've eaten in a while. We got some fantastic recommendations for pintxos places from Aida and Jon- thanks to both of you!- and tried to visit as many as the rain would allow. Cod, prawns, sardines, mushrooms, ink squid...all with wonderful rich, tomatoey, garlicky flavours. OK, so I couldn't avoid the gushing! The highlight was definitely the foie from 'La Cuchara del San Telmo'- sweet yet savoury, chewy yet creamy...just all-round scrumptious. All of this was washed down with txakoli (pronounced 'chacoli')- the typical Basque white wine that is the perfect pintxo accompaniment. The whole pintxo culture- stepping from bar to bar, trying tasters, lots of new flavours to set your pallet alight- is just how I like to try food. I feel like you could never get bored of the food here- there's always a new flavour around the corner.

Pintxo and txakoli...this picture makes me very happy

The pintxos bar where we had the amazing foie...we ate it all before I could get a picture.

Though we could have carried on eating all afternoon, our early flight was starting to get the better of us- and we wanted to save room for the sagardotegi feast. After quick naps back at our places, we met to catch the bus to the nearby town of Hernani- where immediately I saw the more 'alternative' Basque country. Every bar in the cobbled streets was already heaving at 7.30, with people spilling onto the streets and rock music blasting out. The party doesn't usually get going until around 9.30/10 in Barcelona, so this felt more like the drinking schedules of London. One cortado and kalimutxo later (here is where my love affair of kalimutxos started), and we were back on the bus towards the sargadotegi in Astigarraga.

When Lide told me about these cider houses, I was imagining something in between a Barvarian beer house and a British scrumpy cider festival. There were elements of both of these, but also a completely distinctive atmosphere. Standing at long wooden benches, we were brought food constantly throughout the night. First, tortilla de bacalao (cod), then bacalao with peppers and onions, and then...the best meat I've possibly ever had. Bold statement, yes, but the beef was just incredible. Cooked just right, a little salty but not too much, not too much fat...my mouth is watering just thinking about it. We wanted to take some of the meat in a doggy-bag, but wasn't sure if would be as amazing the next day- sometimes, things are best just left as a memory.

Big barrels!

A moody cider pic...

Bacalao with peppers and onions...

'Poo-poo place'. No mincing of words here...

Beef. Vegetarians, look away for the next picture. Meat loves, get excited...

Putting the mmmmm in meat

Cheese and nuts- some of this cheese made it home with us!

Chin-chin!

Lide showing me how to get sagardoa the proper way...

So what were we doing at the cider house when we were not stuffing our faces with fish and meat? Mostly singing the traditional Basque song that Lide taught us (see below for the lyrics!), and answering the calls of 'Txotx!' (or 'George' as we liked to say instead!). 'Txotx' is called when a new cider barrel opens, and everyone rushes there to get the fresh cider. Apparently, this is because it tastes best when it is not yet oxygenated. This happened a fair few times throughout the night, and so I got a few opportunities to try the special technique of filling your cider cup- the trick is to catch the flow first from close to the ground, then lifting your cup up and then away from the flow of cider. The picture below will demonstrate what I'm talking about! There is definitely an art to it- which is why I obviously needed lots of practice...

The lyrics to the traditional Basque song...this sone will be in my head for days!

Giving it a go!

We all had a great time at the sagardotegi, but Lide felt like we needed to continue with the typical Basque experience. So we all headed back to Hernani, to do a bit of bar-hopping. In keeping with the 'varied' theme of the day, we went to a few different bars- from an Irish bar playing salsa music, to a radical Basque indepentista bar that reeked of smoke and a little angst. Just to show what a small world it is, Lide bumped into some friends from Guernica that she's known since she was three years old...it's a really crazy feeling when that happens! So, we rocked out, jumped about and shook our stuff until 4.30am, when it was time to get the bus back to Donostia. The Basques certainly have stamina, starting their partying early and finishing late; somehow, we were able to channel this stamina ourselves, as we managed to have (with a small nap in between), a 24 hour day. We'd woken at 4.30, and partied until 4.30...adrenaline, delicious food, sidra and great company helped us through!

Thankfully, there was no need for such an early start the next day. We casually woke at 11am, and had vague plans to wander along the beach and grab a coffee. As we walked through a beautiful park on the way, full of spring flowers, we commented on how gorgeous the city looked below in the morning sunshine. That un-muted sparkle of the blue sea and green hills beyond were truly spectacular. Then, out of nowhere, we heard dramatic piano music playing.

'Ooh, someone's playing the piano by the sea,' we thought. 'Sounds cool'.

We looked down towards the seafront- where we saw around 30 ballerinas performing by the promenade fence. Just as I thought that was something pretty unique, we walked on a bit...and saw 30 more ballerinas. And then 30 more. Men and women; different ages, from 6-60; different sizes. All evenly spaced along the boardwalk, and performing their warm-up routine. Seeing the dancers en mass like that, especially in such a beautiful setting, was mesmerising. Sometimes, seeing something as random and creative as this can really make your day.

Ballerinas by the beach...

Views, views, views

Ballerinas up close...

Just as we thought we'd seen all the dancers for the day, we walked to the main square and saw members of the public doing a traditional Basque dance with scarves. It never ceases to amaze me how in unison people are when they perform these Spanish dances- everyone knows exactly what moves to do next. I love that local people come together to do this on a Sunday, just to have a good time, and show pride in who they are, and where they are from.

Watching the surfers at the beach...

So, as you can probably tell, I am finishing this blog post from the comfort of my sofa, rather than the bus where I started. Despite 24 hours having past since our journey home, I still feel really excited about the weekend. Though we had very little time, we managed to pack a lot in, without feeling like we were rushing everywhere. When I think about why I love the Basque country, one major factor is that nothing is subdued. The colours are more sparkling, from the blue Atlantic sea to the surrounding green rolling hills; the flavours are more vibrant; the music is louder; the partying hours are longer, the cider is stronger. The Basque people truly live life to the max, and that's a pretty awesome philosophy to me.