The year was 2006, the month was April, and the temperatures in Madrid were beginning to edge towards, “too warm for comfort” (at least for this Minnesota born girl). The good news? One of my best friends was in the city visiting me and we had purchased a pair of bus tickets to the coast to get out of the city for the weekend.

I picked him up at his hostel in the late morning and we threw our backpacks over our shoulders, hurtling through the underground tunnels to the bus station. When we got on our trusty vessel, we settled in for a little nap.

I awoke a few hours later to a surprisingly hilly, woodsy Spain. Previous bus and train trips had either been too short or too dark to see much of the country in-between Madrid and my various destinations, and I was excited to note that the northern country closely resembled some of the land not too far from my home, close to the rolling hills and wood lined roadways of northern Wisconsin.

What we discovered in San Sebastian was unlike any other place I’ve been before. We spent an afternoon camped out on the beach (La Concha), changing into swimsuit tops in the public bathrooms and lazily talking about our lives, which felt like they were stretched out before us like the sparkling aqua waters of the Bay of Biscay.

Later in the evening we sat at a tiny bar and ate tapas of tortilla patata and drank beers standing up and trying to communicate with the bartender. After laughing at our inability to speak the correct dialect (heck, the correct language even), we strolled back to our hotel.

The next day we wound our way by foot around the shore, exploring the river and wandering around finding ice cream shops and unknown cathedrals in the town. We were charmed by the “wind comb,” the city’s sculpture by the sea, and laughed as kids ran and screamed as water sprayed them over the rocks.

As the day would progress, we got caught in the rain on our way back to the bus stop to take  an overnight bus back to Madrid. I got sick as a result of a beer/ gummy candy/ stale bread induced diet. On Monday, my friend flew back to the states and I had to go back to classes and the bustle of the city. But none of it mattered, because for a short time it sure felt like the world was our oyster, like we were two little pearls nestled safely in the “shell” of San Sebastian, and that nothing else in the world mattered.

What is your favorite beach town? When was the last time you were utterly charmed by a quaint little place by the seaside?

Meri