We revisited the small hike that Clement and I took. We sported our swimming suits, but I didn't actually do much swimming. It was a little dangerous because the waves were pushing us over the rocks, so after some entertaining tumbling we got out for a picnic on our rock bar. I’ve no pictures of the tunnel but the landscape was very impressive. There is a sarcastic phrase that is often said amongst the cuadrillo, “Es un mundo difícil” or “what a tough life”. We had chorizo with bree and lettuce bocadillos and a cake we had bought from an artesan baker that morning at a market in a neighboring town called Elgoibar. We were in the good company of Blake, another American doing the same program as me in Elgoibar, Clement the Frenchman, Camille the dutchman and Roman the might Russian.
Two weekends ago I went on an amazing hike with Clement. It was between Deba and Zumaia and along the ocean. We started off running and then slowed to a hike once we got to the coast as it was a somewhat steep decline. We braved the cold murky waters for a quick refreshing dip which left my body tingling because it was so cold. It is a place to return to for more exploration because there were caves along the ocean and tunnels along the return end of the loop. We did walk through one tunnel that was maybe 200 meters long according to Clement’s estimate. We had my cellphone out as a light hoping to first see any sort of drop there might be. It was pitch black in the middle of the tunnel even though you could see the green scenery at each end but nothing really in front of your face. It was a beautiful trial back through a forest trail but overlooking the ocean and good exercise for me. (sadly no pictures except Clement’s excellent French fashion but won’t blog that…next time more photos)
The next day we went for a hike with the Danish girls who are here as tailor’s working at a shop in Bergara. It was a little foggy but beautiful and I took pictures of rocks and the group as we walked along. At the start of the trail but on the return, I bought some “queso curado de oveja” which is cured sheep’s cheese at the cathedral market. It is really good with membrillo, a snack tip from Zuri, one of the sweet girls who lives in the residence.
I stay quite active on weekends and enjoy spending time with the other "guiris" and being outside. A few weekends ago in October, I went on a hike with Clement, Joan from Palma de Mallorca and Matthew from Ireland. It was about an hour jaunt up a small mountain that hovers along the side of Eibar. Eibar is somewhat more appealing from above. The factories are not as visible in the photos... See photos and video below¡
Last week I went to see an apartment of one of the professors to possibly rent. I don’t know that it would be much cheaper than living in the residence and so I think I am going to opt to stay here for this semester. I don’t think I could afford it all year, but can’t stand to leave the guys yet.
We have had a bit of an Indian summer and I am enjoying mostly days of sun. After seeing the apartment I went on this same hike up the mountain beside Eibar and picked up chestnuts. There was an older man picking up chestnuts and mushrooms and I asked him about instructions. He told me to crush them with my foot and “Coje, coje” (or pick, pick) along the road and I spent about an hour picking about a kilo. There weren’t many left as the elderly gentleman had told me, but I brought home a little bag. I roasted them in the little oven we have in the girls' "sala de estar". After I had just sliced all the husks I saw a larvae-like worm crawling across the cutting board where the sliced chestnuts were laying. Gross. I squished it and had already roasted two batches in our little oven and so just finished the third and warned those who ate them… Although at Eroski, the grocery store here, I saw some chestnuts but there was a worm hole in one of them, so mine were good enough for grocery store quality, maybe even restaurant (Mom ;) . )
In the middle of October Camille’s friend Pien was visiting from Holland. It was a treat to have another
girl in our group of foreigners. We visited several different coastal towns and made meals together and did a bit of shopping in San Sebastian. We took a dip in the Ocean while it rained in Mundaka, hiked a small mountain overlooking the sea in the light of the lighthouse in Getaria, merengue-ed to latin tunes with white wine, had pintxos in Zarautz on our way to San Sebastian, enjoyed a café in Gernika or “Guernica” which had no visible damage left, but looks quite similar to other towns in the Basque Country, and had some good laughs. I picked fresh figs at a house that Pien and Camille have been admiring. The group of foreigners here in the residence has dubbed themselves, myself included, the “O.N.U.” or Spanish abbreviation for the United Nations. They have become good friends and are quite entertaining. We tend to stick together as we are usually the only inhabitants on weekends in the residence.
I have wanted off and on to look at apartments because it is kind of funny to live in a dorm and kind of expensive on my current salary, but it has proved a challenge to find a place in Eibar. I called some phone numbers off of ads posted in the grocery store and on lightposts. Either rooms were already rented “occupados” or it was a creepy situation. I called an advertisement for a “chica” thinking it would be an apartment of female inhabitants… An older man with a raspy voice answered and my first thought was a doubt that I had dialed the correct number. I said that I was calling about the room advertised and he said, “yes” so I asked if it was open and it was. He explained some things about him not being in Eibar for the week, but the thing was, he asked, “Are you looking for yourself?” “Yes” “Are you a woman?” “Yes”, and then he responded as if he were in funkytown “Oh, good” but it wasn’t cool. Then he asked if I could call in a week and I just said, “yes” and goodbye. The next people I called were laughing as if drunk or high and told me that I could have a free room. “Why?” I asked, and she responded that is was because I was a foreigner. She said this in an elevated grammatical register so as to be more polite. I hung up.
I think I will stick to the family I have here in the residence rather than live with a creepy old man.
I visited Oñati which is a little town in the mountains about half an hour away from Eibar. One of the English instructors, Jose Ignacio, invited me to come visit his family and see the town’s festivities. It was a day full of celebrating. People in the street were dressed in traditional Basque wear and all the gastronomical societies were open to the public to come in and try a pintxo. Jose and I went to a cider tasting and then for pintxos after seeing the best of Basque produce with cheeses and large beets and darling with children dressed in Basque clothes helping their parents sell. There was an arts and crafts fair with Basque knitting and woodworking, jewelry, candles, brooms… I joined Jose and his wife and their friends for the comida at a restaurant and we had pintxos for the first place of jamon, pate, breads, an egg scramble, ensaladilla, and other munchies. For a second plate, I enjoyed chipirones, rellenos in their own ink. I had an interesting icecream and bites of flan for dessert. In Spain they tend to slice icecream if it isn’t a scooped gelato… The men and women segregated on parts of the table and the children sat at the end. Many of their friends in the cuadrillo were teachers as well, so I was in good company. They were all very kind and interesting people. Many people were familiar with Idaho in Oñati and I even met a woman from Boise, she was one of the teachers at the high school where Jose’s son attends.
So many people were in the street all day. More of the life here is lived in the streets because houses are often much smaller, but that day brought many people outside all day. I met Jose’s daughter, Virginia and spent a bit of time with her and her friends or their cuadrillo. I tasted Calimocho, or red wine and coca cola, which is really sweet. Boys and girls and men and women segregate into gender-groups on holidays like this and if they bump into each other they talk for a bit and then move on. I think that is most common on any day as well, which seems to me to be a weird habit, but that is part of their culture here. A basque friend of Jose’s drove us up after dinner to check out where to rock-climb and also to see Arrantxazu. I am completely unsure of the spelling on that. The Basque language, or Euskara, does not have several of the letters Spanish and English and other latin-based languages use. The “ch” sound is written “tx” and the “c” sound is written with “z” or “k”. The “Z” is lisped” and there are some other peculiarities for me that I continue to learn. Basque still sounds like Russian to me, sadly. But I have heard of some different courses offered.
I stayed quite late out with Virginia and then Jose’s wife offered that I stay the night and they could drive me home in the AM. They were very friendly and treated me like a daughter or niece. They have invited me back and I am looking forward to visiting again. I quite like the people in the Basque Country, despite the stereotype for being reserved and somewhat closed. Jose and his wife are both from Salamanca, but their children have grown up here in the Basque Country.
