ETA violence and the nasty ham bag
Spain:Madrid:Juegos En Red
San Sebastian was another trudge-a-thon with the backpack, searching out the greatest deal in town, but there are no deals, its a couples haven with double rooms only at double room prices. i eventually settle at for a discounted price, another room at a families house, which doubles as a boarding house, but this place is super nice, middle of the old town just a skip from san sebastians amazing beaches. definitely will come back here for the jazz festival so i decided just to stay one night. went for a guiness, have officially written 1 or 2 guiness a day into the budget, the guy actually made the little shamrock on the top. absolutely shamrockin. never had that before. eat dinner and go back to my nice room for a nice sleep, wake up late, hustle hustle to the bus station for the 9am direct to madrid, i am dead in a soupy sleep fog but my legs are obedient, and have been this whole trip, even when they get stiff and creaky they move when told to, so i just let the brain drift slowly awake while the body does all the work. i make it in time, throw my bags on the bus and still have time to get a cafe solo and a donut. i rule. i cringe as i realize my bag still smells a little like ham from the bag of ham that leaked in it yesterday. i washed it 2 times, godawful nasty ham smell. note to self: keep ham and other products of smelly juice in seperate bag from bag with important items you may not want to smell. the ride to madrid was pleasant and quick, the pyrenees are very lush, piney and pretty, nothing really notable after morocco though. i see those sinewey electical towers and they look like sculptures to me, such is the abundance of art in spain. there are sculptures everywhere, and very modern too…art on the brain is a good thing. see a newspaper for the first time in days and realize that a newspaper exec was just shot and killed outside of a hospital in san sebastian, and then they bombed their car of evidence. it is believed to be ETA. damn, iīm leaving Basque country i think to myself, and i put 2 and 2 together and this explains the silent protesting of women in the plaza moyua, bilbao, the central plaza in the commercial district. they were holding giant banners that read something to the effect of “when will we ask for peace”. i had no idea that it was a reaction to an assasination that had taken place that day.
madrid is the usually nothing cheap at 3pm and lots of stuff full. i go to parajas, the undiscovered place down atocha nearer the prado side of things and they do have a room, and with a window this time. spend the next couple of days doing nothing, eating, enjoying the occasional beer, constantly walking around, nothing else to do, looking for better hostels, which are always way more expensive and full. so tuesday night has me back in the El Leon De Plata Taberna Celta, in the Huertas district where there are loads of cool pubs and eateries, i found out the previous tuesday before going to bilbao that they have guiness specials on tuesday 2 for 600pts. canīt beat that, and its a cool bar too, all dark and wooden and some celtish, spanish, arabic fusion tilework on the bar, a pretty and young bartendress who speaks excellent english. so i read the herald tribune only to discover that Bush is trying harder to crank up star-wars again, and trust me, the europeans donīt like it a bit.
buenas noches