Adios Fanatics, Hola Larrabide!

We made it a point the following morning to book a hotel. We found one guesthouse with availability (maybe one of four total places open). We packed up our bags, hugged our Fanatics friends farewell and climbed in a cab. Our directions from our hotel said to get to Trintxerpe (pronounced Trint-sherpay) BBVA bank and then call for further directions. Our cab driver placed the call, told us to get out and wait for our hotel to pick us up (at least we assumed this is what he was saying as it was all in spanish). With our bags - dubbed Godzille (my bag) and Big Betty Bitch (Nicole's bag), we sat in the square and waited. 15 minutes later, a tiny Euro car pulled up and a man flagged us to come over. Again, going much on faith, we loaded into his tiny car and hoped for the best. He took us up this beautiful mountainside on this narrow winding road and we Oohed and Awed at the view of San Sebastian below. We pulled into Larrabide, not so much a hotel, but a guesthouse or hostel of sorts. It looked so peaceful and serene, especially coming from Camp Igueldo where we had stayed one-too many nights. He kindly helped us unload our bags (this is a rarity in Europe, apparently) and led us inside an old house with barn doors. Inside was our quaint 2 twin bed room, where we set down all of our stuff (Godzilla and Big Betty) then sighed the biggest sigh of relief. We were ready to detox from the hell that was San Fermin.

Joseba, owner and host of Larrabide, spoke English and welcomed us with a cheerful smile and a hint of excitement to show us around. Joseba had a lot to be proud of, starting with his beautiful Spanish wife, Ideola, whose lack of English only added to her charm. We were shown the shared bathroom, the kitchen, and where breakfast would be - "9:30, but if you sleep in, it's ok" - and the finale: the sidre room. Joseba not only runs a guesthouse, but makes wine, sidre (cider) and liquor in his spare time. I saw my first bit of sidre poured - a spicket in a barrell, where you hold your glass several feet away from to create a bubbly substance. You must drink sidre quickly, as it turns black after sitting for 5 minutes. Not only did he offer us that, but he also poured us a pitcher of wine, to sit for 30 minutes and return to drink. We learned later, this was his real passion and what he spends majority of his time doing. Our American friends that we met later in the hostel, each received their personal bottles of sidre to take home with them, although the sidre would never make it home, but instead would end up in our tummies, where it belonged.

After being blown away at the success of our last-minute booking, we decided to wind down with a nap in our first bed since Paris. Here, I take a turn for the worst and end up feverish and miserable for days to come. Waking up, we decided to walk down to the internet cafe at the bottom of the mountain - Joseba does not believe in the politics of Wifi (pronounced "weefee") because in his opinion, it causes cancer in their children's brains like a cell phone. At Cafe Manuela, I made all the necessary internet rounds and then decided to head back up to Larrabide with a touch of a fever. Nicole opted to meet me later and I began my journey up and up. Trintxerpe is a city on a hill, where buildings are surrounded by escalators, elevators and never-ending stairs. Going up is a challenge, but being in a completely different world, awakens the senses and makes you forget that your hamstrings are on fire. Eventually though, the buildings end and being up on a seemingly people-less mountain at dusk, can cause a fright, especially when you realize you must've missed your turn. After backtracking, I finally found my way to Larrabide and made it up the bitch of a final hill (worse than our hill in Newcastle) and collapsed inside. I took the most amazing shower (a 6-point shower) that actually gets hot, where I almost never left. I organized Godzilla and prepared for bed. Nicole, supposed to be home at 10:30, was still nowhere to be seen as of 11pm. Knowing how easy it was to get lost, I asked our American friends Mike and Sean, to go down the hill to find her. She made it back an hour or more later, huffing and puffind, also having been turned around on the dark mountain. At this point my fever was hellacious and was causing me minor hallucinations. I decided to chug as much agua as possible, take some ibuprofen and sleep as much as I could stand, which would be much of the next few days.

In between rests, we joined our Cali friends for some waves at the beach, had tapas (appetizers very common to Spain) and walked the town of San Sebastian. We decided to stay up late drinking sidre and playing cards, a decision I would pay for as I healed slower and slower each day. The next morning we went to the Farmacia and got some medicine (socialized and convenient, although a translator would be nice). We went to the train station in a foolish attempt to book a same-day train out to Barcelona, but after waiting in an hour long queue (or line), we were told the next train was the following day at 4:30. We then walked to the bus station where we booked a bus for the next morning at 8:10. At this point, we have no idea where we are going to stay for the night and based on experience, learned that San Sebastian holds very few last-minute openings. Nicole and I got lost for 3 hours in San Sebastian, but finally made it back to Larrabide...SO MUCH WALKING. We immediately went online to a Google translator to tell our hotel we had no where to stay. They did not have another night available, but we begged to even stay on the couch in the common room. Being the generous soul she was, she told us in so many Spanish words that we could stay in her home on the second floor of the hotel in a spare room: "only to sleep" and this was "an exception". We thanked God, our hostess, and our lucky stars, especially when she didn't charge us an extra night stay!! The room was quaint, cozy and comfortable. The following morning, Joseba drove us ALL the way to our bus station beyond the San Sebastian city center. We gave him 10 euro, to which he smiled big and said "For my children!"

The bus ride was 9 hours and I don't remember a blink of it. Sick to the bone, I used my inflatable pillow, eye-mask and melatonin to catch up on some much-needed winks.