Summary of my travel through Western Europe: Scotland, Netherlands – Amsterdam, Belgium & Spain

Scotland

Jesus christ I love the accent. I could listen to a Scot for hours… I also really enjoy the Scottish “spirit”. Feisty and ballsy and gruff in their own way depending on which part of the country you’re in. The Scottish sense of humour really appeals to me. They’re so interesting and unpretentious. They’re like the stereotype but even better. I loved the western part of the country, gorgeous glens and lakes… I had no idea that it was so uninhabited either. I obviously knew nothing about Scotland beforehand to have not known that. It’s fantastic though. I mean, not helpful to human prosperity but great for the land and the sprites 😉

Have to admit that the Isle of Skye kind of scared me. It doesn’t have an indigenous population of trees, so although there are settlements that have obviously made the effort to greenify their plots the isle as a whole is a study in brown/straw colours. It had a silence and a heightened sense of space that felt like a sentence rather than a freedom. The best way I can describe it is that… it doesn’t feel like a place that welcomes life. It can be picture-perfect beautiful on a sunny day yet it doesn’t feel real and engaging, either I was the alien or it was the alien land. To my mind it would be an excellent site for a thriller film.

Places visited: Edinburgh, Glasgow, Fort William, Mallaig, Isle of Skye – Portree, Dunvegan, Uig

Two reasons to have a blog

The searches that brought people to my blog today and yesterday:

Today 

what kind of cows are furry

Yesterday

bums on old men

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I got into San Sebastian after 10pm last night. You have no idea how good it feels to get into a place late like that and know that you can walk back home. You had hoped but of course there were no taxis, yet the town is so safe and you know your way around so naturally that there are no second thoughts about doing it. I was a happy camper, even with 23kg on my back and 5 on the front and I was looking at a 20-30 minute walk home. San Sebastian really is an incredibly beautiful place to walk around in at night, and I felt such a sense of being at home.

I have a lot of homes now actually. 

Stepped outside to a bright day and a careless light blue sky this (somewhat) morning. I am so happy to be back here. It´s good to do things more than once.

An outsider’s glimpse of the Basque cause

Oh finally, some 5 months since I left Spain and 2 months since I wrote the first two of the series, I’ve completed the whole four like I wanted to. In case you have had an interest in this topic but have forgotten or missed previous bits because of my inconsistent posting habits, here are all the posts in one place:

Part I: What I experienced of it

Part II: The Basque – Spain clash

Part III: Being Basque in Basque Country

Part IV: So, why exactly?

Okay then, happy reading!

An outsider’s glimpse of the Basque cause [Part IV: So, why exactly?]

So, why exactly?

Many of the other foreign students at the language school expressed great difficulty in understanding or even in beginning to understand why Basque people want independence from Spain. In general, everyday life it doesn’t appear as if they are in danger of losing their cultural identity and uniqueness; their language is one of the oldest in the world, the entrenchment of their roots is not exactly in question here. Furthermore it is assumed that any new, independent state would be much worse off economically, and would probably have to depend on Spain anyway. So why do they demand more?

Here is my own cobbled-together representation of the Basque perspective:

They truly do not feel Spanish, in fact it could even be said that while they can recognise it, the Spanish identity is something that would be alien for them to take on. They know what they want, and believe that their priorities and way of going about things are different to Spain’s. There’s almost the sense that they should have independence because it is inevitable, because they are that sure that they are ready to be a coherent state of their own. There is absolutely no air of desperation or bravado, not even in their persistently strong displays of activism; instead the impression is that they are matter-of-fact in stating what they require. It’s quite curious because on one hand there is much cynicism about Spain’s motives and views of the Basque Country; on the other, they give off the vibe that they are just waiting for the full deal that they know Spain will end up giving to them.

While I have felt a natural immediate empathy for the desire of the Basque people to have independence from Spain, for a long while I didn’t have a grounded sense of understanding as to the Why. To a Basque person it is obvious, they are not Spanish. But I in myself don’t understand what it feels like to feel part of a group, let alone part of a group that is involuntarily under the dominion of another. So I sat down one day and spent a bit of time writing out ideas for why a people might want independence and not be content with recognition.

“Why would you feel like you needed a state of your own?”

An outsider’s glimpse of the Basque cause [Part III: Being Basque in Basque Country]

As has been true for this series so far, when speaking about Basque Country and people I am referring to that land and people found within the borders of Spain. My time in French Basque Country has confirmed that the atmosphere and the way that Basque identity is expressed is very different in the two countries. Whereas in Basque Country in Spain it is taken for granted that you are in and surrounded by Basqueness, in Basque Country in France the word “Basque”, its symbols such as the basque beret, emblem, and flag are splashed across signs, shops, brochures and pamphlets…. So many neat Basque tourist activities you can take part in! So many cute Basque accoutrements to be had! Sell sell sell sell…

Being Basque in Basque Country

To boil it down it seemed to me that being Basque in Basque Country meant being proud of the fact and demonstrating it in some way.

Is being socially conscious and engaged in activism inevitable? Does someone demonstrate their pride because they are Basque and can’t help it; or do they do so in order to prove that they are truly Basque?

An outsider’s glimpse of the Basque cause [Part II: The Basque – Spain clash]

The actual real information I can give you in this next part is going to be pretty sparse. I was thinking about doing some research to fill it up more, but I resisted the temptation since the whole point of this is laying out what I was able to personally learn through experience and conversation. My Spanish being only at a beginner’s level, most of what I learnt was communicated in English. Therefore I think it’s highly likely I missed certain points and didn’t always fully capture the intended meaning of points I thought I did understand. Now that the advisory is over, let us roll on…

The Basque – Spain clash 

1. Today street names, public signs and advertising are printed in Basque as well as Spanish and are a completely normal feature of Donostia, as well as other towns in the Basque Country. Under Franco’s regime following the second world war however its use was suppressed, spawning the creation of ETA (Euskadi ta Askatasuna – Basque homeland and freedom). Apparently ETA used to be more widely appreciated throughout Spain for the part it played in fighting Franco’s rule, but these days people choose not to consider the relevance of its genesis. Instead the group is branded simply as terrorists, bloodthirsty as all terrorists are. Ah… but another interesting facet of all this is that while Euskera (Basque language) is present all throughout the streets and in a number of television programmes, it is so far not a part of the mainstream printed press. No newspapers articles in Euskera. Which is interesting to reflect on considering one would think that television and the internet had more of an influence on people’s lives and minds today than print media. I wonder if the retardant is money or simple old-fashionedness. Or is the printed word somehow symbolically more important still? 

An outsider’s glimpse of the Basque cause [Part I: What I experienced of it]

I’d like to say first off that despite my month-long stay in San Sebastian, I feel that I’ve only gotten the tiniest scrape at understanding something more about the Basque cause. To be sure I definitely had intentions of finding out more. Although my primary reasons for choosing San Sebastian as my base for language learning were the easy access to surf, good reputation of the school and apparent loveliness of the city, there was also a little voice in my head whispering “Ooooh, Basque country! Maybe you can find out what more there is past the term “Basque separatists”… Oooooooh.”

All I can do then is report what I have learnt. I’ve decided to break this up into subheadings in order to foster some clarity through the tangled mass of thoughts and questions that is how this subject is currently being stored in my head. I also did this because I didn’t think that the content could naturally direct itself into meaningful structure, seeing as what I discovered through my impressions and the words of others were really only tidbits that might be too small and random to put together to form a real story of the Basque call for independence.

What I experienced of it

As I’ve quite crudely tried to demonstrate through my photos, Basque activism is ubiquitous in San Sebastian. It is entirely normal to spy banners, posters, placards and flags – either the Basque country flag (looks like that of Great Britain except with the colour scheme of red, white and green) or the flag calling for independence (as shown above) – around town. They’re hung and posted up on the side of buildings, on a rotunda in a plaza, on the balcony of an apartment or non-residential building. Some of these are thus displays of pride and defiance, while others are informational – posters giving the dates for events celebrating days of significance to the Basque fight, or placards recounting the backgrounds and stories of kidnapped persons.

One afternoon some few days after arriving in Donostia, I was sitting in the living room when a soulful, melancholic melody filtered through into my airspace. I was pleased and excited to be privy to such nice music, and supposed that it was buskers set up camp in the plaza at the front of our neighbouring church. I got up to look out the window half an hour after it had started, and was surprised to see that there were no buskers. What there was was 15 or so people standing in a row against the facing building, holding a long banner across their bodies as well as placards with slogans and photos of people’s faces pasted onto them. Each person with a placard had their own photo of one person. The music, I was embarrassed to discover, came from a stereo placed on a fold-out chair next to them. They stood there resolutely, the expression on their faces showing that they were calm and had done this before, and would continue to as many times as they thought necessary. Other students have commented on how unbearably sad the music is, music that I think are Basque compositions. It was a striking experience. When I first heard the music I felt more of a connection to its beauty than to its sorrow. Further, although the quiet insistence of the demonstrators and the strangers’ faces on the placards did stop time for me as well as delay my heartbeat, the relaxation in their bodies as they demonstrated, the comfort they got from being together, and the long length of time they remained there left me with an overall feeling that could not reach sadness.

La Gula

A short while after arriving at my homestay Elisa (the woman I was staying with) offered me lunch, and naturally as a bedraggled and confused foreigner, I wasn´t going to refuse. I was taken aback by the healthy plate that was set before me: endives cut in half with an anchovy placed lengthwise along each of them, with a side salad of chopped up tomatoes and avocados. All of this was drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and had a variety of little seeds including sunflower and sesame sprinkled on top. I was even more surprised when I ate the endive-anchovy combination and discovered how delicious it was. Usually I´m capricious with anchovies, I fear their mouth-shrinking saltiness; and I had never in my life met an endive. I had to look at the packaging to see what they were called. Therefore the reason why I was so surprised was because I hadn´t been expecting something so Andrew Weil-worthy healthy, so delicious, and so totally unknown to me. It was a great way to start my first day in Spain, an awakening by food.     

That same night the mother of the woman I was living with taught me how to make tortilla con patatas, which so as you don´t get confused with the Mexican idea of tortillas means simply a potato omelette. The trick according to her was to use a lot of olive oil when you´re first softening and cooking the potatoes, and then to drastically reduce the heat and take out all of the olive oil before putting in the eggs. It sounds simple but the removal of the olive oil is achieved by conscientiously ladling it out of the pan with a spoon, so it takes some time. What´s more you´ve got to be careful with the time you take at each step of the process (chopping the potatoes and putting them in the pan, taking out the oil…) for there is always that dreaded danger of burning the bottom. In saying all this however every household has their own trick in making tortilla con patatas, and anyone´s own ideal has only been arrived at through their own trial and error.

Only words for now

It´s been an age and my avatar has been nothing more than a square filled with black.  I can´t say much for that except that I have been lazy, surfing, and on and off sick. Sounds like an unlikely combination but it´s true. Oh yeah, that and I haven´t had internet access over the Easter holidays.  

Not sure where to start having been off the horse for this long… Some good news. San Sebastián has finally started to see sun! It´s quite crazy how much a little light can makeover a place.

What else…. hmm, I think I´ll explain what motivated my relatively long stay here.

I chose to come to San Sebastián because I wanted to be able to learn Spanish and surf at the same time. I wonder if that would work, language lessons on the water… My mum informed me that International House, a master operator of language schools around the world, had a really good reputation, and once I´d checked out the website for the Lacunza school here in Sn Sn I had no doubts that this was where I wanted to come. I´m coming on my last week of a month of Spanish classes, running from 9:30am to 1pm daily, and just last week I was strongly tempted to take on a week or two more of classes because I was so impressed with the progress that we had made. The teachers are very well-prepared, quick-thinking and fun, and the administrative staff are so helpful and thorough in their assistance that you might as well take them for a sort of concierge. Every week they post up activities that you can participate in, including film sessions, bar outings, intercambio (language exchange) with native speakers and dance lessons. One week I took on salsa with a couple of others from my class and from that will always keep the memory of a man calling out in a Count Von Count from Sesame Street type accent ¨Vuelta! Vuelta!¨, not to mention the original composition he taught us at the end that involved finger pointing, pelvic thrusting and shoulder shimmying. All in all, rave reviews for the school. If you´re at all wondering why I opted to not extend my studies, the answer is because the combined cost of accommodation and classes is pretty high, and while I could afford it my preference at this moment is to have the freedom to move around, more than to keep up a settled life in one place, as lovely and as easy as it is.

Por la noche

For anyone who somehow has less common sense that I do: Sickness is likely to result from surfing in rain and cold when you only wear a wetsuit, sin booties or gloves. I think what´s worse than your extremities turning into floppy red pieces of meat while in the sea, is relying on your half-numb feet to carry you on home over cold concrete steps and cobbled footpaths through town. What seals the deal is doing something such as this, and then going out to smokey, thumpin´ bars until the wee hours of the morning over consecutive days. When you still have class in the morning.  

This is the danger of San Sebastián.

Otherwise I´ve been living a fairly normal life here and haven´t been travelling around as much as I would have liked to. Sort of an inevitability when you get sick and when relentless rain, a gloomy grey sky and an ungodly chill are your companions on the walk home from school. However, I have some little excursions planned for this fin de semana, and because I´ve decided to stay home for Easter that will also mean more chances to get a feel for this region.   

As chastised as I feel for my attempts at being young and carefree, I´m not entirely apologetic because San Sebastián is so beautiful at night. Perhaps this is only my belief because I´ve seen maybe 5 hours of sunshine in total since I arrived here two weeks ago, but I still feel complete freedom to state that I think that night-time is when the town is most beautiful. I will try to take some pictures on a clear night and will definitely take more walks around to clarify in my own mind what makes its beauty so doubtless at this time of day. What I can say is that… it evokes a sense of romance that is universally accessible, as also occurs for example when you´re gazing up at a limitlessly animate night sky from upon a wide open space like a beach, field or mountain top.

 It´s that magic that Hollywood so generously allows us to participate in through vicariousness, when it generates stories centered around surprises, fortuitous chance encounters, the mysterious unravelling of fate, and the freedom that we find when we´re lost in a moment. Thinking on it now, what makes romance really work in a movie is probably less about any comfort and happiness we might feel in watching two people express affection for each other, and more about how these stories imply that the wider world, or the universe, or God; how this ¨greater than us¨ does have an attachment to each of us humans, no matter how puny we are. Real romance doesn´t come from thinking that it´s so nice that Jane got flowers from Brad. It comes from feeling a meaning to their story. It comes from wanting to be inspired by our world. So I´m always really grateful to find myself in a place that lets romance be felt and shared by all arrangements of people… In San Sebastián by night you can have a romance-steeped stroll with friend, family member or lover. And it really doesn´t have to be better experienced with one type of walking-mate over another.

Ah shit, now I´m realising I´m going to have to take some spectacular photos. No no no…. you just have to come here 🙂 

It´s worth it. All that romance AND yummy pintxos (tapas) you won´t understand.