San Sebastian or Donostia?

The País Vasco is a part of Spain with a rich and unique history, which has given birth to a distinct politic today. The first inhabitants of what is now the País Vasco (Basque Country) were the Celtíberos. The Romans then proceeded to conquer the Iberian Peninsula, but their main settlements were on the Mediterranean and bordering the rivers which flowed into it – Zaragoza, for example. The Visigoths then invaded from the north, and these would be the first to erect permanent settlements in the País Vasco. When the Moors invaded from Northern Africa, they conquered all of Spain except the northern coast, leaving Basque Country in Christian hands. During the Reconquista (is Reconquest a word in English?), the País Vasco was part of various kingdoms: that of Asturias, then Castilla, which then changed into Leon; then Navarra took possession, only to lose the territory to Castilla once again. Regardless, the País Vasco remained rather isolated and removed from the Christian crusades, with its own language (Vasco, or Basque, or, in its own name, Euskara). When the Catholic Kings Fernando and Isabel loosely united the entire peninsula (minus Portugal), the País Vasco became part of Castilla. The Basque language also extends into parts of south-western France, drawing Spain’s northern neighbor into a lot of modern-today political conflicts as well.

Now, the País Vasco is a Spanish autonomous community divided into three provinces (San Sebastian and Bilbao are the respective capitals of two of them). It is the site of perhaps the most intense industrial development in Spain, although its beauty still shines through. Bilbao’s history has been divided into “pre-Guggenheim” and “post-Guggenheim”, as the uber-famous museum injected lots of “clean-up-the-city” money into the municipality. However, the different language and different culture have led some to call for independence. The most widely known independence group is ETA (Euskadi ta Askatasuna), a militant (technically classified as terrorist) group that utilizes car bombs and politics to fight for Basque independence. A new Spanish movie, “Celda 211”, which my political science class went to see, demonstrates well a few unforeseen problems involved with ETA (I don’t know if there is a subtitled version out somewhere in the US, but if there is, I recommend that you see the film – the literal translation of the title is “Cell 211”). My host mother’s friend warned me in jest that I should make sure not to enter any ETA bars by mistake – but the risk provoked by having a violent separatist group functioning within its borders is an everyday reality for Spain.

A bilingual street sign in Bilbao.

Hence, the city I visited has two names. The Castilian name is “San Sebastian”. The Euskara name is “Donostia”. The País Vasco also has a Basque name: Euskadi. “The locals appreciate it when you try to speak their language,” mentioned the hostel employee who led us to our rooms, so we acquired the habit of saying “Agur” (goodbye in Basque) instead of “Adiós” when leaving stores or cafés. However, even after a few days in the País Vasco, the extent of our Basque knowledge is “agur” and “kukuxumusu”, the name of a very chulo store which means “the kiss of the flea”.

Right now, Aragón’s government is debating a new language law, which would formally recognize the fact that a few towns in eastern Aragón speak Catalán. It has provoked a petition signature drive today in the Plaza de España called “Aragón doesn’t speak Catalán” and a radio commercial in which an innocent tourist asks directions to the Plaza del Pilar and receives an answer not in Castilian but in Catalán.

Spain is a small country, but it boasts four languages spoken officially within its borders: Castilian (Spanish), Catalán, Basque, and Gallego (spoken in Galicias). With a separate language come the various separatist movements in Spain, which call themselves nationalist movements. Seeing firsthand how linguistics isn’t just drawing tree diagrams but is also a powerful and polemic political tool has driven home the importance of language – it’s not just vocabulary, it’s life and death.

San Sebastian, Day 2

After a good night’s sleep, we stumbled into the kitchen to see what the albergue’s breakfast offerings were like. We filled ourselves up on toast and chocolate rice krispies, donned running clothes, and went for a jog. Heather, being an intense and very good runner, decided to run the entire Concha. Fazed by the fact that I hadn’t put on my sneakers more than 3 times since arriving in Spain, I opted for a slow jog around what we nicknamed “Jesus mountain” for the enormous statue of Christ on top. The real name of the small hill is Monte Urgull. Unlike in Zaragoza, there were actually quite a few joggers out on the boardwalk and the nice sidewalks in San Sebastian. I enjoyed the ocean view, the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs, and the green mountain on my other side. After we met up again at the Ayuntamiento, Heather and I decided to climb up to the Jesus statue, where there was also a castle which we could explore – one of the really cool but completely not busy things we found. I loved the walk up, on tree-lined paths – I hadn’t quite realized how much I missed forests!
After returning to the albergue to shower, we were hungry, and so as tends to me my general course of action, I headed for a panadería on Calle Mayor that we had passed earlier with a smell of fresh-baked bread wafting into the streets. We had to edge our way past a group of traditionally-dressed Vascos singing Christmas carols in Basque to get in the door, but it was worth it. The challenges weren’t over, however: the bread was labeled only in Basque. How frustrating to be in Spain, finally have a good grip of Spanish, and then be confronted with a new language, completely unrelated, and with no clue of the pronunciation! I had expected to encounter some Basque in Basque Country, but I’d never expected a bakery to be completely without any Castilian, or to see advertisements and flyers exclusively in Basque. It really was the principal language – Spanish took the back seat. From a linguistic point of view, the preservation of the incredibly unique Basque is valuable, but from a practical standpoint, it was yet another new challenge. In any case, I ended up with some wonderful bread – delicious, delightfully textured, and still warm. We had to visit a repostería we’d passed, also on Calle Mayor, for dessert, where I bought a “príncipe”, a rolled-up sugar lace cookie filled with chocolate mousse. Absolutely delicious!!
After satisfying our hunger, I wanted to buy some paper and envelopes at a paperlería, and we both wanted to explore the shopping district of the new city. We ventured south into the wider streets, and after exhausting ourselves with exploring, we returned to the albergue for a siesta and ended up chatting with our roommates for a while, until a reasonable hour for dinner. (We knew that the Italian place we’d spotted wouldn’t open until 8.)
The little restaurant was called “Capricciosa”, and I was overjoyed to see pesto risotto on the menu for only about 9 euros. Heather ordered a seafood pizza (which she can attest to the deliciousness of). It was a wonderful meal and a very welcome change from the blandish Spanish food in Zaragoza. Between the flavor-filled tapas of the night before and the lovely basilness of the risotto, I was in love with the País Vasco, simply because of the food. Although I must say, the vast beautiful beach and the tree-covered mountain helped win me over. Another exciting factor of the trip was staying in the youth hostel. We headed back to the albergue around midnight, after another walk on the beach, and used the pretext of thirst to discover who was in the kitchen. We ended up chatting with a group of Italians and French for quite a while, in our common language: Spanish. With an enriched knowledge of western Europe, Heather and I headed to bed, exhausted after another long day, and tried to find our toothbrushes in silence so as not to wake our roommates.