My love affair with the San Sebastian urban bike path is officially over. WARNING: bike path tirade begins now. Why oh why do people walk, stand, kiss, juggle, or do any other non-forward-motion-related activity on designated bike paths? I was so impressed with the design of these mini-streets, that I’m sure were painstakingly planned to balance the interests of pedestrians, bikers and motorists. But I have come to the conclusion that it just doesn’t matter how much room you give pedestrians, or how many white painted drawings of arrows and bicycles you stencil on asphalt, or what city you are in the world, or how beautiful the men and tapas are, people that aren’t on bikes are still going to wander onto that tiny sliver of space allotted to you and then just stand there. And then look at you like you’re on the wrong path. Yield to peds my ass. Douchebags. I’m allowed to clip them, right?
Now, I’m a douchey pedestrian too, slightly empowered by a deluded, false sense of the ped right of way. I run in front of not-so-far-away cars, against the light, to get across the street faster because I just can’t wait the 30 seconds it takes for the light to change. But I have to say, I never just stand in front of oncoming vehicles, mocking drivers with my inherent pedestrianness. So…what I’m asking is, I’m allowed to clip them, right?
Note to self, just don’t ride your bike in the city center on Saturdays. Even if you’re wearing your patient pants.
Okay. End of bike path tirade.
So my first week is over and I already feel like I live here. Not only am I working the exact same way, I’m grocery shopping, cooking, doing the dishes, entertaining, singing in the shower, yelling on the bike path…just like home. On my first day in my new neighborhood I gave some guy in a delivery truck directions. I mean, they were definitely wrong, but I was psyched that someone asked me for directions! Almost every day someone asks me for directions. Oh, if they only knew. The other day, I rode four times around a roundabout before I finally decided on the wrong way. What’s the point of a roundabout if it doesn’t have any signs and all the streets look the same? Is it that one? No, it’s that one. Or is it that one? There are a lot of freakin’ roundabouts in this city.
And I’m also dealing with annoying everyday problems too. Yesterday I had to resolve an ATM issue. And pry my bike lock open with my bare hands. Yes, apparently I also have man hands. Man feet and man hands. Good thing I still have girl legs.
Anyway, my bank decided to block my account…from me. Because I forgot to tell them I was going away. The customer rep said “Did you call us and tell us you were going away?” Ummm. No. I also didn’t call you when I went to Guatemala, Nicaragua, Florida, California, North Carolina, Fire Island, Staten Island, etc. etc. and I was still able to access my account outside of the Bronx. “Did you call me and tell me you were going to suddenly stop me from getting my own money a week after I withdrew in a German airport?” I know it’s for fraud protection and all, but ironically, when someone in Peru hit my account 3 times in under 5 minutes for the max ATM withdrawal, they didn’t block access from them. Not even the third time.
Ended up being a great day, hiked up to the Jesus statue on Monte Urgull mendia and then watched the winners and placers of a rowing regatta. The ceremonial getting in and out of the water was fun to watch. The Basques may have even invented the regatta. Who knew? Have to say, never thought of regattas being an invention or wondered much about their origin. And it sounds like something I might wonder about too. I’m reading The Basque History of the World and got that little tidbit from The Basque Whale chapter. Very funny that after reading much more than I ever wanted to know about regattas, I happened to stumble upon…a regatta! Here they are emptying their boats.
This was also my first pintxo-free day. I saw a Chinese restaurant last week that I was able to find again and ate there instead. I love love love eating Chinese food in other countries. The waiter gave me some weird shot at the end of my meal, not really sure why, I ordered the dollar equivalent of a happy meal and had one beer…maybe I should just accept that I have that just-give-me-free-booze aura and stop wondering. It came in a pretty porcelain shot glass and he just left the bottle on the table and walked away. I dunno, maybe he could sense my bike path rage.
And I didn’t have any pintxos on Sunday either. It was the first day that started out sunny so spent most of the day biking, then walking after bringing my bike back because I broke the lock with my man hands, swimming, reading and napping on the beach.
Lots of photos from the weekend so I thought I’d just throw them in a gallery with captions otherwise I’ll never upload and post them.
Okay, I’m mostly caught up now…nothing eventful happened yesterday and I didn’t eat or cook anything interesting. Thanks so much everyone for reading, loving all the FB comments xx
Uhh, “doing the dishes”?? Haha
I do do the dishes!! Hahaha (I actually told that story in Spanish to someone I met not sure if it translated well and to Zeta!) xx