(the misadventures of an expatriate corporate dropout)

Sunday, October 5, 2008

spanish lullaby.

Upon boarding the train and exchanging a little conversation, we realize that the absentmindedness continues with the failure to bring along any of our guidebooks for Spain AND the name/number of the Pension we reserved at.

Being expert at Plan de B's, I suggest that upon arrival, we seek out an internet café.  Johnelle agrees.  Of COURSE we will recognize the spot we booked.  cough.

We nap fitfully.  At one point, we move to a smaller car with only 16 seats, thinking it will be quiet.  Little did we know that 12 of the seats were occupied by the only rowdy French in civilisation, en route to a brief vacance sur la mer.  They acted as if it were their own private party car, breaking out a 2 course lunch and wandering through the car, laughing, talking and jostling each other.

Meanwhile, we attempted naps.

Finally, we arrived in San Sebastian.  We headed for the centre, determined to find an internet café.  After extended wandering, we poked our heads into a little five and dime and asked about the closest internet spot.  THIS is an internet spot, we were informed.  We googled pensions and Johnelle chose ours.  We trudged many blocks there...walked upstairs and were informed that this could not possibly be our spot.  We continued our quest until Johnelle ultimately spotted a nondescript sign that turned out to be our Pension.  Success at last.

So, despite guidebooks, maps, phone numbers, actual pension names ... well virtually ANYTHING that would indicate our resting spot, we located said place and collapsed with loud sighs.

San Sebastian ultimately provided us with many distractions ... film festival paparrazi, tapas bars, trip to Guggenheim in Bilbao, beaucoup de shopping for pants that fit and knee high leather boots. promenades on a beautiful bay gazing upon the generations of Spanish doing the same.

Also, a mom/ daughter evening of card playing and trading clothes...the same evening where I discovered i fit into a 27 jean...that's right, ladies, a TWENTY-SEVEN!!!!   oh, snap!

the weather was phenomenal, the people incredibly kind, the food mediocre.  All in all, we managed to have an absolutely lovely time.


La Framéricaine said...

No, I'm not envious. I'm not jealous. I'm not wondering when the hell I will ever stop trudging off to boring hours spent "working" and begin to spend a bit of time in relaxing pursuits of sites, bits, and bites. Life is definitely not fair!

Have a wonderful trip together and say hello to OJL when you finally get a chance to meet up.

Two thumbs up on the continuing incredibly shrinking ass!

Randal Graves said...

I'm guessing 27 is good for weirdo European sizing, so, yay? Yes? Knee high leather boots? I feel like Rich Lowry watching Mooselini on teevee.

Glad you're all having a good time, but I'm going to have to tell McPOW that you're cavorting in the land of our enemy.