Si, si, por hombre. They don’t really look like mandals, but apparently my feet are just too big to fit in ladies sandals here. I think my feet might be a 42 in Europe and every shop I went in just stopped at 40. Anyway, my sandals, which were women’s sandals and made in China, broke on the morning I was leaving so I needed a pair. Very slim pickins…and really expensive, no wonder Europeans high-tail it to NYC on shopping trips…but these just happened to be the last pair and 1/2 price. I’ll tell you, shopping is my least favorite thing to do, so I’m glad I got that out of the way fairly quickly. And they are just what I need to hop from pintxo bar to pintxo bar.
Speaking of pintxos, I have had quite an assortment already. After my marathon snooze fest from Saturday afternoon into Sunday morning, I went out in search of a town, hopefully a supermarket but mostly to get my bearings. I google-mapped my apartment because I really had no idea where the hell I was. Didn’t really help much because who am I kidding, I never know where I’m going even when I’m holding a map in my hand. So I just started walking…north. Miraculously, I did not get lost, not even a little bit.
First stop, coffee and some cheese bread that looked much better than it tasted. I wasn’t planning on starting any pintxo quest quite yet, wanted to get some regular food shopping done, unpack, find out about Spanish schools and yoga classes, but everything was closed. Ahhh, Sundays in Spain. So I walked to the beach, which is just as breathtaking as I remember, especially in this grey, stormy, moody weather…and just when I was getting into a photo groove, it started pouring. I found a bus shelter and hid there for a while, but it wasn’t letting up and there was no where really to duck into so I just hopped on the next bus that came. And I still didn’t get lost. I mean, that was really just asking for it. Got off at a spot that seemed to have some life and jumped from doorway to doorway until the rain let up a bit.
Got some wandering in but then it started pouring again so I just ran into the closest taverna. Picachilla Taberna Nautica, more Irish bar than pintxo bar, but it was as good a place as any to start some Sunday cider sampling. The pour is great, long and high and dramatic and the price is right, 1€. Picachilla’s pintxos were pretty run-of-the-mill so I just waited out the downpour with another cider pour.
Next stop, Bar Cafe de Mario. Passed by this place earlier and they had some rockin’ pintxos! But when I got there, there was nothing that special. But I was hungry and tired of dashing in and out of the rain, so I grabbed a little chorizo sandwich and a slice of tortilla.
Then I went to this other place, closer to my apartment, some little divey spot where everyone was speaking Basque. I think it might be called Txangurroz? I’ll update the name of it later, because, well, it’s in Basque and I don’t know if that’s the name of the place or an ingredient, I think it’s the name since it’s in the Spanish translation…anyway, this thing was incredible. Some kind of stuffed pepper with fish mousse I think, served on top of some serrano ham. Oh man. Anyway, I’m definitely going back to that one. I was kind of full, but they had some weird looking stuff I definitely want to eat!
Spanish spoken: A lot. Couple in street, couple at bus stop, information guy (taught me some Basque), pintxo servers, bus driver, random Nicaraguan girl, Teresa and Telmo.
Food eaten: Lufthansa chicken wrap, crappy cheese bread, chorizo bocadillo, tortilla, Txangurroz beteriko piperrak
Drinks drank: Sidre (I’m going to start paying attention to the kind I drink)
