Day 7 – Part 1 – Entering Spain

October 1st – Day 7 – Part 1

Irun

Irun, Spain is a town with a population of 61,000 located in northern Spain near the French border. It is a common hub when traveling from Paris.

I arrived in the Irun train station at about 7:30am with my eyes practically swollen shut from exhaustion. This was the first night train I had ever slept on, and it definitely didn’t lead to a restful slumber.

I tried replacing my limited French vocabulary of Bonjour, Parlez-vous anglais with it’s Spanish counterpart Hola, Habla ingles but communicating with the Irun train station workers was proving difficult, so I eventually just pulled out my Thomas Cook’s train guide and pointed at the train route to San Sebastian I was hoping to take. Luckily, a train heading for San Sebastian was about to leave the station so I barreled on board with my Eurail pass and passport clutched in my hands.

Whenever I climbed aboard a train, there was always some curiosity on my part if I was heading in the right direction. English is my native language, and aside from a little bit of Japanese, I don’t really speak or read anything else, so I always had my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t wake up several countries away from my desired destination.

San Sebastian

I arrived at the San Sebastian train station early in the morning. Most of the shops were still closed, and I figured my hostel booking would be about the same. I asked some of the train workers for directions to the center of town, and they were very helpful in directing me toward where I needed to be.

San Sebastian has a really beautiful river running through it, and the bridge connected the train station to the town was very ornately decorated.

I love a good hike, and one of my main reasons for visiting San Sebastian was to climb to this giant statue of Jesus perched on a mountain overlooking La Concha’s Bay.

Disco Friends!

Whenever I arrived in a new country my priorities were to find a working ATM, a map of the area, and the location of my hostel. I staggered through the streets of San Sebastian trying to find the “survival triad” for a good hour or two.

Finding an ATM was fairly easy. My heart skipped a beat when I inserted my card in the machine, but the 150 Euro expelled from the device gave me confidence that I would at least be able to eat for the next few days.

I saw several signs advertising a “tourist center” on the far side of town, and it was easy enough to find. The above building is I believe the “mayor’s office” for the town, but I am not completely sure of that.

Upon reaching the tourist office, I was given a map of the area, and directions on how to hike up to the statue.

Usually when booking a hostel online, directions to the location from the train station, or airport are clearly labeled on the booking web site. For whatever reason, I jotted the wrong directions to my hostel down. The only consistent clue I had given myself was that it was near the San Sebastian cathedral.

Eventually, after asking every shop keep on San Martin Street, I tracked the hostel down.

Pension Amalur is run by a guy named Miguel. He is legendary in Spanish hostels for being very nice. He runs the hostel out of his apartment, and is more than willing to help backpackers out of a jam. Unfortunately, his English is about as good as my Spanish, but with the help of Elizabeth, a fellow backpacker from Portland, Oregon, we made due.

Miguel let me use the hostel’s shower, but unfortunately, my bed was occupied by the previous night’s tenant, so I attempted to take a short nap on Miguel’s couch.

As I tried to drift off to sleep, Miguel kept waking me up. His cleaning lady had arrived, and she was vacuuming around the hostel. He was trying to communicate with me in Spanish, asking me to leave for a few hours while his place was cleaned, but I was so tired I couldn’t understand his very obvious physical cues so I started picking up the couch, and trying to help the cleaning lady. Finally, he pointed at me, pointed at the now frustrated cleaning lady, pointed at me, pointed at the door, and made a “walking” motion with his hands. I finally got the point, and left the hostel to get lunch.

I tried to order a hamburger from a restaurant near the beach, but I was given a cured ham plate instead.

Man, the backpacking life is sweet.

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