I can't remember if this is our fourth or fifth visit to Donostia. We have got the the stage of heading straight to our favourite spots rather than rushing about exploring here and there. That being said, we still had unfinished business. The pintxos bars scattered through the city tend to be famed for a particular speciality, one place for exceptional tortillas, another for highly inventive small morsels centred on gambas.
Bar Gorriti is a small, unassuming spot beside Brexta Market. It is frequented more by locals than tourists; the service is brusque and off-hand, but its queso de cabra con tomate secco concoction is much celebrated. Twice before we have attempted to sample it, both times they had sold out. Would it be third time lucky? Sadly not. Still, my tortilla with anchovies and Gill's grilled courgette on a ratatouille base kicked off our pintxos fest in style.
Despite these delights I felt a bit sad. We had just wandered around Brexta market looking to buy some bananas. There were none, how can a fruit market run out of bananas? This was not the reason for my low spirits. On previous trips we had always enjoyed the innovative pintxos to be found at Bar Akenza in the basement of the market hall. It disappeared off Google maps a year or so ago, I suspected it had closed. It was true, but seeing the place covered in tarpaulin was a sorry sight indeed, but nothing lasts forever. Gill asked at the butcher's stall next door if they knew why it had gone. "He just decided to finish" came the reply.
It dawned on us time was not on our side if we wanted to sample some other places. Pintxos bars operate into the small hours, but close from mid afternoon until around sevenish. The clocks changed yesterday, our appetite had not adjusted yet, so we had made a tardy start to our pintxos quest. Quite a few places had not opened at all; after the weekend 's culinary exertions maybe Monday was a day of rest for most pintxos chefs.
However Bixigarri Taberna was open, had good reviews on Google and two empty bar stools inside.
I had a fishy themed stack and a squidgy round thing which might have been called a croquette if it had been tubular. They complimented the white Rueda perfectly. Gill went for a tortilla and something else which disappeared so quickly I could only snap her empty plate.
These days two drinks at lunchtime is more than enough. The afternoon was warm, some benches with a view of Monte Urgull and the old fishing port beckoned. We needed a rest. We take thousands of photos on our phones as we travel. The law of averages create a handful of nice shots. Sometimes a bit of skill, judgement and persistence comes into it too, resulting in a pleasing composition. Rarely does a picture compose itself naturally, appearing before you as a compelling image as if by magic. It did now. Click!
The scene was fleeting, ten seconds later two young women sat down in front of us. The momentary composure of receding triangles - bodies in repose, relaxed limbs, beyond them the foreshortened harbour wall, Monte Urgull's imperfect pyramid in the background and the ephemeral beauty of how girl's white shoe brushed the left hand corner of the picture without breaking the frame, this split second poise evaporated instantly when the two girls arrived, but the camera outfoxed time's inexorable flux and seized the day's frail moment of perfection.
There was something in the image's odd mix of intimacy and formality, simultaneously ephemeral yet inadvertently artful, that struck me as somewhat Nouvelle Vague. Just for fun I tried giving it a Left Bank 'Jean Luc' vibe by using the monochromatic 'vogue' filter on the camera app.
Displayed in black and white the couple in the foreground become more dominant. Thinking about it, the scene is actually profoundly conventional which is why it was so startling when it occurred in front of me naturally, without any intervention on my part. Classically heteronormative, how different the picture would seem if the two in the foreground were a same sex couple, or even if you swapped genders so the woman cradled the man. In all likelihood this would happen very rarely indeed, because for all the progress we have made regarding gender equality, on the street overt romantic behaviour between women and men is still far more common and accepted than between same sex couples. Public behaviour tends to lag behind our more liberal impulses; the prejudices of crowds perhaps far more powerful than their supposed wisdom .
While I played with my phone camera app Gill was WhatsApping with Sarah who was following our pintxos quest vicariously from Hackney. 'You cannot leave without going to the prawn place," she instructed, adding, "They were so good I think about them all the time." She sent a link. Bar Goiz Argi was less than 100m away, but what were the chances of it being open mid-afternoon on a Monday?
The door was ajar but there were no customers. Quite clearly the owner was moments away from shutting up shop.
Gill has steely determination and a sunny smile, it's a winning combination, the guy agreed to cook us some prawns.
They were very special, though probably I won't take to day-dreaming about them like our daughter. One more round of pintxos meant another round of drinks. It had to be Txakoli, the dry white wine unique to the Basque country, ever so slightly petillant, bar staff usually pour it into the glass while holding the bottle above their head, just to give it a little more fizz. The guy in Goiz Argi was having none of the theatrics, it was past closing time, we could have the prawns but not the show.
Now I was wrecked. I can't drink at lunchtime these days and still prone to post-Covid fatigue when I overdo it. We took a very slow stroll back to the station. I wrote a few years ago how Donastia seemed to me to be epitome of a civilised city. Taking it slowly we had time to appreciate its wide boulevards full of spring flowers. Yes, there is a profound civility about the place.
After the recent cold snap the warm afternoon seemed like a luxury. People were making the most of it, cafes doing a brisk trade, a few hardy souls had even ventured into the sea.
It's one of those places that you cannot leave without a pang of regret, but this is ameliorated by the certain knowledge that you can return; life is not always difficult, there is always hope when we share good things together - this is Donastia's message to the world. We need to heed it.
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