Hopped on a bus headed north. We arrived in San Sebastian after a long trip of knitting scarves and eating freshly made red-pepper hummus. The hostel was a little trek, but the "Olga's" were friendly, and thanks to Ana's Russian, we got extra special treatment.
The pintxos, or Basque version of "tapas," are not to be missed. Even for a vegetarian like myself, there was plenty to enjoy. Mushrooms as usual were the favorite. The cider, although known for being outstanding was not my favorite.
The city, a quaint sea side town with an amazing beach, was calm being that it was fall and the draw of the beaches had diminished. Perfect for our enjoyment. We hiked "to Jesus," walked along the beach, and spent a majority of our time hanging out in pintxo bars talking. The Spanish phenomenon of talking to your friends, is one that I think is lost on many Americans. I rarely go into a bar and talk to someone I don't know. In Spain, it is all about spending time with your friends. In the states I find it much more common to play games, or be in a bar with the full intent of getting drunk. I prefer the Spanish way.
The colors changing, the leaves falling, the earth consuming its waste. 
On our way, exploration. 
It is the Spanish way. 
Making it to the top, being met with Jesus!
The colors changing, the leaves falling, the earth consuming its waste. 
On our way, exploration. 
It is the Spanish way. 
Making it to the top, being met with Jesus!
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