Bedtime Journeys
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Bedtime Journeys
Dreaming by San Sebastián's Perfect Bay
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Exclusive access to our premium content and ad-free!The gentle curve of La Concha Bay unfolds like a seashell against the Cantabrian Sea, embraced by twin mountains that shelter this seaside masterpiece. San Sebastian—or Donostia in the ancient Basque language—reveals itself as Spain's most elegant coastal gem during our evening exploration.
Walking along the iconic white iron balustrade that lines the promenade, we discover a city where Belle Époque elegance meets a culture older than recorded history. The Basque people have inhabited these lands since time immemorial, their language predating all other European tongues—older than Latin, older than Greek, a linguistic mystery that was "already here when everyone else showed up."
As twilight bathes the city in golden light, we ascend Monte Urgul's ancient paths to discover 12th-century fortifications and breathtaking panoramas. We wander through the atmospheric Old Town, where numbered balconies around Plaza de la Constitución reveal its surprising past as a bullring. The local tradition of chiquiteo—gentle bar-hopping with precisely ten minutes per establishment—offers a rhythmic way to experience pintxos culture without rushing.
The original wooden carriages of Monte Igueldo's 1912 funicular railway transport us not just up a mountainside but back in time. At sunset, we witness the bay transform into liquid gold from this perfect vantage point. Later, Eduardo Chillida's powerful Wind Combs sculptures create a meditative dialogue between steel and sea, while peaceful gardens showcase trees from five continents and peacocks that roam freely through manicured landscapes.
As night embraces San Sebastian, the beach becomes a mirror for city lights, each wave arriving with a whisper and retreating with a sigh. This is a place that understands the art of living well, where life moves at the perfect pace—not rushed, not stagnant, but flowing like the tide itself. Join us for an evening of shell breathing and peaceful contemplation in one of Europe's most captivating coastal treasures.
Hello there, fellow travelers, it's Daniel here, welcoming you back to another evening of peaceful wandering. Tonight marks our sixth day exploring the wonders of Spain, and oh what a journey it's been. We've strolled through Madrid's magnificent museums and Retiro Park, marveled at Gaudí's dreamlike architecture in Barcelona, wandered the orange-scented streets of Seville, explored the magical Alhambra Gardens in Granada, and just yesterday we lost ourselves in Toledo's medieval cobblestone maze. And now now we find ourselves in what many consider the pearl of the Cantabrian Sea, san Sebastian, or Donostia as the locals call it in Basque. You know, there's something almost impossibly perfect about La Concha Bay. It's shaped exactly like a seashell, hence the name La Concha as if nature itself decided to create the ideal beach and then thought you know what? Let's make it even more perfect by adding a tiny island right in the middle. I suppose that's why Queen Isabel II started coming here for therapeutic sea bathing back in 1845. Nothing quite as therapeutic as a beach that looks like it was designed by someone with a very relaxing imagination.
Speaker 1:San Sebastian has this wonderful duality to it it's both deeply Basque and elegantly European, both a fishing village and a Belle Epoque resort, both ancient and timeless. The Basque people have lived in these lands longer than anyone can remember their language. Euskera predates all other European languages. It's older than Latin, older than Greek, so old that linguists just shrug and say it was already here when everyone else showed up. And this ancient culture created something remarkable here A city where the mountains embrace the sea, where elegant promenades curve along perfect beaches, where every evening people practice the gentle art of the chiquiteo, that's the local tradition of peaceful bar hopping. You spend about 10 minutes in each place, just enough time for one pintixo, that's the Basque version of tapas and a small drink. It's less about the food and more about the gentle rhythm of moving through the evening Like a very slow, very delicious dance.
Speaker 1:The weather here has its own personality too. The locals have a word, tsirimiri, for the fine misty rain that often graces the city. It's not really rain in the conventional sense, more like the air decided to be slightly more wet than usual. It's so gentle that people don't even bother with umbrellas, they just continue their strolls, letting the Siramiri add a soft shimmer to everything. But tonight we're blessed with clear, calm weather, perfect for exploring this coastal gem.
Speaker 1:The transformation of San Sebastian from a small fishing village to one of Europe's most elegant seaside resorts is quite a story. It all really took off when Queen Maria Cristina made it Spain's summer capital from 1887 to 1929. Suddenly, european aristocracy discovered this perfect bay and hotels, casinos and theaters sprouted like particularly elegant mushrooms. The year 1912 was especially magical. They opened the Hotel Maria Cristina, the Victoria Eugenia Theatre, la Perla Spa and the Monte Igueldo Funicular all in the same year. I imagine the ribbon-cutting ceremonies must have been exhausting. Another grand opening, but we just did one yesterday.
Speaker 1:What I love about San Sebastian is how it kept all that Belle Epoque elegance without becoming a museum. The white iron railings along La Concha Promenade still gleam in the sunlight. The funicular still climbs Monte Igualdo with its original wooden carriages from 1912. The elegant lamp posts still light the evening paseos and the beaches, oh the beaches. La Concha is like that friend who's annoyingly perfect but so nice you can't even be jealous. Protected by two mountains, monte Urgul and Monte Igualdo, with Santa Clara Island sitting in the bay like a peaceful guardian, the water stays calm even when the Atlantic gets moody. Tonight we'll walk along that famous promenade, climb the ancient paths of Monte Urgo, wander through the old town's narrow streets and take that vintage funicular up Monte Igualdo for sunset views. We'll discover hidden squares and peaceful gardens. Listen to the gentle lapping of waves against the shore and maybe understand why this place has been soothing souls since Queens first discovered its therapeutic waters. So let's begin our peaceful exploration of San Sebastian, or Donostia if you prefer, where every curve of the bay seems designed for contemplation and every evening stroll becomes a meditation.
Speaker 1:Before we begin our journey, let's take a few moments to align our breathing with the rhythm of the Cantabrian Sea, find a comfortable position and let your eyes gently close. Tonight we're going to practice what I call shell breathing, inspired by the perfect curve of La Concha Bay. Imagine your breath following the smooth arc of a seashell curving gently inward and then flowing smoothly out. Take a slow, gentle breath in, feel it curve through you like the bay's perfect crescent, and now let it flow out as smooth as the tide, retreating over golden sand. Again, breathe in slowly, letting the air fill you like gentle waves, filling tide pools, and release, feeling any tension, drift away with the outgoing tide. One more time. Draw in that peaceful breath, hold it gently like cupping a perfect shell in your palm and let it go releasing into the calm of a protected bay. Beautiful. Feel how your breathing has found its own peaceful rhythm, like waves lapping against La Concha's shore. So let's start our journey.
Speaker 1:We begin our evening at La Concha Beach, standing on the elegant promenade that curves along this remarkable bay. The beach stretches before us in an almost perfect semicircle 1,350 meters of fine golden sand. It's early evening and the beach has that peaceful quality that comes when the day visitors have departed, leaving it to the locals and those who understand that beaches are best enjoyed when the light grows soft. The famous white balustrade runs the entire length of the promenade 271 sections of elegant ironwork, each one decorated with a small flower facing the city. They were installed between 1910 and 1916, designed by Juan Rafael Alde, and King Alfonso XIII himself came to inaugurate them. And King Alfonso XIII himself came to inaugurate them. I wonder if he counted all the flowers. Yes, your Majesty, that's flower number 137. Only 134 more to go. The lamp posts along the promenade are equally elegant. These aren't just streetlights. They're so iconic that the San Sebastian Film Festival uses their design for their awards. Imagine winning an Oscar shaped like a streetlight. Actually, that sounds rather charming.
Speaker 1:The sand here has a particular quality Fine and golden. It feels soft and cool beneath bare feet. The beach slopes so gently into the water that you can walk out quite far and still only be waist deep. The water is remarkably clear, that beautiful turquoise that makes you understand why people believe the sea could cure ailments. Out in the bay, santa Clara Island sits like a peaceful green jewel. It's only 400 meters across, but it serves as a natural breakwater protecting the bay from Atlantic storms. There's a small beach on the island that appears and disappears with the tides the only south-facing beach in the entire Basque country, in the entire Basque country. During summer, small boats ferry people back and forth, but some locals prefer to swim. It takes about 15 minutes for a strong swimmer, though, I imagine it takes considerably longer if you stop to admire the view, which would be entirely understandable.
Speaker 1:The traditional beach umbrellas here are blue and white striped. They've been the same design for over a century. There's something comforting about that consistency, knowing that someone sitting under these umbrellas in 1920 saw exactly the same cheerful stripes. To our left, monte Urgel rises up 123 meters of green forested hill, crowned by the statue of Sacred Heart. To our right, monte Igualdo stands even taller, at 181 meters, with its famous funicular railway and old amusement park at the top. These two mountains embrace the bay like protective parents, which is probably why the water here stays so remarkably calm.
Speaker 1:Let's walk along the promenade our footsteps, joining the millions who've strolled here over the past century. The evening light is beginning to turn golden painting, the Belle Époque buildings that line the seafront in warm honey tones. These aren't just buildings, they're architectural poems in stone and wrought iron. The Hotel de Londres y de Inglaterra sits in pride of place, its elegant façade, unchanged since 1865. Queen Isabel II stayed here when she first came for those therapeutic sea baths. The hotel still maintains that same refined atmosphere, as if the walls themselves remember how to be gracious.
Speaker 1:A little further along we pass La Perla, a thalassotherapy center that's been here since 1912. Built right on the beach, it offers seawater treatments in the same tradition that brought the Spanish royalty here 4,500 square meters dedicated to the healing properties of seawater, meters dedicated to the healing properties of seawater, though I suspect the view alone is fairly therapeutic. The sound of the waves here is particularly soothing, gentle and rhythmic, like the bay itself is breathing slowly. The protected waters mean you never get those crashing dramatic waves, just this constant, peaceful lapping, like the world's largest and most patient metronome. Local families are beginning their evening paseo, that wonderful Spanish tradition of the evening stroll, wonderful Spanish tradition of the evening stroll. Elderly couples walk arm in arm, parents push strollers, children run ahead, but not too far. Everyone moves at that particular pace that says I have nowhere urgent to be, and this is exactly where I want to be anyway. And this is exactly where I want to be anyway.
Speaker 1:At the eastern end of the beach we can see where it connects to Ondoretta Beach, at low tide, near a rocky outcrop romantically named Pico del Loro, the parrot's beak, though it looks more like a sleeping seal to me, but I suppose seal's snout doesn't have quite the same ring to it. The light is extraordinary at this time of day, the famous golden hour that photographers love, but here in La Concha it seems to last longer, as if the bay has negotiated special terms with the sun. Could you just linger a bit? We're having such a nice time. The air carries the scent of salt and sea, mixed with something floral, from the gardens behind us, perhaps from the famous tamarisk trees that line parts of the promenade, their pink flowers blooming in late summer, their twisted trunks telling stories of decades of sea breezes.
Speaker 1:From La Concha Beach, we make our way toward Monte Urgul, the ancient guardian that has watched over San Sebastian for more than 800 years. We enter through a small plaza near the Basilica de Santa Maria, where worn stone steps begin their ascent through history. These aren't the main tourist steps. We're taking the quieter path that locals prefer. The name Urgel comes from the Gascon word for pride, and you can understand why. As we begin our climb, this mountain has been the city's protector, its fortress, its lookout and now its peaceful green lung.
Speaker 1:The path winds gently upward through a canopy of trees, pine and oak create a natural cathedral above us, their branches filtering the evening light into soft green-tinted rays. The sounds of the city below fade, remarkably, quickly replaced by birdsong and the rustling of leaves. Every few minutes we come to a small mirador, a viewpoint that offers a different perspective of the city below. Each one is perfectly placed, as if the path designers understood that climbing is more pleasant when you have excuses to pause and admire the view. From our first viewpoint, we can see the old town spread below its narrow streets, creating a maze of shadows and golden light. Church bells are beginning their evening songs, the bells of Santa Maria del Coro, mixing with those from San Vicente, creating layers of bronze music that echo off the ancient stones.
Speaker 1:The path continues upward, sometimes on old stone steps worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, sometimes on paths of packed earth that smell of pine, needles and history. We pass the English cemetery, established in 1924 for British soldiers who died in the Carlist Wars. The headstones are covered in moss and ivy now, creating an atmosphere that's more peaceful than melancholy. It feels like a secret garden where history has decided to take a very long nap. The fortifications become more evident as we climb higher Massive stone walls that have stood here since the 12th century. The Castillo de la Mota at the summit has witnessed everything Medieval sieges, the Peninsular War, the terrible fire of 1813 that destroyed much of the city, but now it witnesses only peaceful sunsets and the occasional wedding photographer, which seems like a much better use of a fortress. Really, the vegetation here is remarkable Mediterranean species that thrive in the salt air, tamarisk trees with their feathery pink flowers, hardy pines that lean away from the prevailing winds, and everywhere the sweet scent of wild herbs.
Speaker 1:As we near the summit, the path opens into a small plaza and there above us stands the Sacred Heart statue twelve meters tall, or twenty-four if you count the base created by Federico Cullo in 1950. It's visible from four miles out at sea, a beacon for sailors and a guardian for the city. But it's the view from up here that truly takes your breath away. But it's the view from up here that truly takes your breath away. The entire bay spreads before us in its perfect shell shape. The beach we just left looks like a golden crescent, the elegant buildings like a string of pearls along its edge. Santa Clara Island sits in the bay like a green boat at anchor, and beyond the Cantabrian Sea stretches to the horizon, painted now in shades of gold and blue by the setting sun. To the west we can see Monte Gualdo, our destination for later, with its tower and funicular station, just visible at the summit. Between the two mountains, the city nestles, safely protected, as it has been for centuries. The silence up here is profound, just the wind, the distant cry of seabirds and, far below, the faint sound of waves against the shore. It's the kind of silence that makes you understand why monks and hermits sought high places for contemplation.
Speaker 1:We take the path down the eastern side which leads us directly into the heart of the old town down the eastern side, which leads us directly into the heart of the old town. The descent is gentle, winding through more green spaces and past more viewpoints, each offering its own perfect composition of sea, city and sky. As we descend, the sounds of the city gradually return, but they seem softer now, as if our time on the mountain has tuned our ears to a more peaceful frequency. We emerge from Monte Urgol into the Parte Vieja, the old town, where narrow streets hold eight centuries of stories between their stones. The transition from mountain peace to urban life is remarkably gentle. These ancient streets seem to understand the art of the gradual welcome, art of the gradual welcome.
Speaker 1:We're on Calais, 31st of August, august 31st Street, the only street that survived the Great Fire of 1813. The cobblestones under our feet are the same ones that witnessed that terrible day when British and Portuguese forces accidentally burned most of the city after liberating it from the French. History has a dark sense of humor sometimes. Congratulations, you're free. Also, your city is on fire, but San Sebastian rebuilt, and the old town they created is a masterpiece of urban planning. The streets are narrow enough to provide shade, but wide enough for the evening breezes to flow through.
Speaker 1:The buildings here are quintessentially Basque white or cream-colored walls, wooden balconies painted in deep greens or rich browns and everywhere those distinctive green shutters that seem to be required by some ancient Basque building code. We make our way toward Plaza de la Constitución, the heart of the old town. This square has one of the most unusual histories in Spain. From 1817 to 1894, it served as the city's bullring. Look up at the balconies. They're all numbered 1 through 50. These numbers mark where residents would rent out their balconies as box seats for the bullfights. Imagine having a balcony with a built-in business model Apartment for rent Three bedrooms, two baths, profitable balcony. The plaza is surrounded by elegant arcades, neoclassical arches in warm golden stone. The former city hall anchors one side its façade still bearing the city's coat of arms.
Speaker 1:This is where the famous Tamburada Festival begins every January 20th, when the entire city drums continuously for 24 hours, over 19,000 adults and nearly 9,000 children all dressed as Napoleonic soldiers and cooks drumming their hearts out. The tradition might have started when local women mocked Napoleon's occupying troops by banging water buckets, which proves that passive-aggressive resistance can eventually become beloved cultural tradition. The evening cicatiteo is beginning, that gentle bar-hopping ritual we mentioned earlier. Small groups move from bar to bar, spending about ten minutes in each one pincho, one small drink, then on to the next. The Pentexos bars here are legendary, their counters laden with elaborate creations that look more like edible art than bar food. Each bar has its specialties, recipes passed down through generations, secret sauces that they'll guard with their lives.
Speaker 1:We wander down toward the Basilica de Santa Maria del Coro, its Baroque façade illuminated by golden evening light. Built between 1743 and 1774, it's a masterpiece of Schuriger-esque style, which basically means Baroque, but more so. The façade is incredibly ornate, carved from local limestone and sandstone, designed to look like a monumental altarpiece Above the main entrance. San Sebastian himself, the city's patron saint, portrayed in his martyrdom, though he looks remarkably peaceful for someone having such a bad day. Inside, if we peek through the open doors, the church soars 27 meters high, creating acoustics so perfect that even whispers seem to float on air. The caviar call organ from 1863 sits silent now, but you can almost hear the ghost of its 10,000 pipes in the evening air, the ghost of its ten thousand pipes in the evening air. The narrow streets around the church are some of the most atmospheric in the city. Shadows grow long and soft. The sound of footsteps echoes gently off stone walls and everywhere the mingled scents of evening cooking, garlic, sea salt and that particular smell of ancient stones cooling after a warm day.
Speaker 1:We pass the San Telmo Museum, housed in a former Dominican convent from the 16th century. Its Renaissance cloister is visible through the entrance stone arches, creating a peaceful square of contemplation. The modern addition from 2011 rises like a green wall. Behind it, it's 3,000 perforated aluminum panels designed to blend with Monte Urgo's vegetation. As evening deepens, the old town takes on a different character. Streetlights cast warm pools of gold, conversations become softer and the pace of life slows even further. This is the magic hour in the Parte Vieja, when history and present moment blend into something timeless.
Speaker 1:From the old town, we make our way along the curve of La Concha Bay toward Monte Igualdo, where a piece of 1912 is still waiting to carry us up the mountainside. The walk takes us past the elegant buildings of the 19th century expansion, when San Sebastian burst out of its medieval walls and embraced its destiny as a Belle Epoque resort. We pass the City Hall, which started life as the Grand Casino in 1887. It hosted everyone from Mata Hari to Maurice Ravel, though presumably not at the same roulette table. Ravel, though presumably not at the same roulette table. The building is pure Belle Époque confidence All towers and balconies and decorative flourishes that say, yes, we're fancy and we're not sorry about it.
Speaker 1:The all-dirty eater gardens spread before the City Hall, their name meaning Beautiful Place in Basque. And they're not wrong. The gardens were designed by Pierre Ducasse in 1885, the same French gardener who designed parts of Versailles, though I imagine these gardens are considerably easier to maintain. The famous tamarisk trees are here, their twisted trunks telling stories of decades of sea winds. Local legend says they were a gift from Napoleon III, though local legends say a lot of things. After enough Texacoly wine, there's a carousel here from 1998, a tribute to the original Belle Époque merry-go-round. Its hand-painted covers feature reproductions of Monet, picasso and Van Gogh. Painted covers feature reproductions of Monet, picasso and Van Gogh. Because why shouldn't children ride horses decorated with Impressionist masterpieces.
Speaker 1:We continue west along the bay, passing the point where La Concha Beach becomes Ondareta Beach. The Miramar Palace sits on the promontory between them, queen Maria Christina's summer residence from 1893. The palace was designed in cottage style by English architect Selden Warnham, though calling it a cottage is like calling the Atlantic a pond, is like calling the Atlantic, a pond, it's all red brick and timber framing, looking like something from the English countryside that got lost and decided it quite liked the view here, the garden sloped down to the sea, 34,000 square meters of carefully orchestrated nature. There are trees from five continents here, a 30-meter Lebanese cedar, copper, beeches, magnolias, all arranged by Pierre Ducasse to create perfect compositions from every angle. And now we arrive at the Plaza del Funicular, where our chariot to the sky awaits.
Speaker 1:The Monte Igueldo Funicular is the oldest in the Basque country, third oldest in all of Spain. It opened on August 25, 1912, inaugurated by Queen Maria Cristina herself. And here's the wonderful thing it still uses the original wooden carriages. They've been restored. Of course, safety standards have evolved since 1912, but the essential experience remains unchanged. You step into a wooden car with bench seats and large windows and for three minutes you travel not just up a mountain but back in time. The funicular departs every 15 minutes and we're lucky to catch one just as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon. The ascent is gentle, the wooden car creaking pleasantly as we rise Through the windows, the view unfolds like a slowly opening fan First the immediate coastline, then the entire bay, then the city spreading inland and finally the mountains beyond. The track runs at a steady angle, not too steep, just enough to make you aware that you're climbing. Trees brush close to the windows pine and eucalyptus, their scent mixing with the old wood smell of the carriage. At the summit, we emerge into what can only be described as a Belle Epoque dream.
Speaker 1:The amusement park here isn't about modern thrills, it's about gentle nostalgia. Twenty attractions from the early 20th century, including the Montaigne Suiza from 1928, the world's oldest steel coaster. Though coaster might be overselling it, it's more like a scenic railway that occasionally remembers. It's supposed to be exciting, but we're not here for the rides, we're here for the view. The Torreon Tower, a reconstruction of a 16th century lighthouse, offers 360-degree views from its fifth floor. And what views they are.
Speaker 1:La Concha Bay spreads below us in its perfect semicircle, looking even more like a shell from this height, the city follows the curve of the coast, its lights just beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk. Santa Clara Island looks like a green boat floating in liquid gold as the setting sun turns the water into molten metal. To the west, we can see all the way to France, the Pyrenees fading into purple shadows. To the east, the Gipuzkoan coast stretches toward Bilbao a series of headlands and hidden beaches. This is the view that has inspired artists for over a century, the view that made Queen Maria Christina choose San Sebastian as her summer capital, the view that still makes locals come up here for important moments, proposals, anniversaries, or just Tuesday evenings when life feels particularly worth celebrating. The Hotel Mercure Monte Igueldo maintains the Belle Epoque atmosphere, its terraces offering sophisticated spaces to watch the sunset. But we prefer the simple benches scattered around the summit, worn smooth by thousands of people who've sat here doing exactly what we're doing watching the sun paint the bay in impossible colors. As the sun drops lower, the light becomes almost liquid, pouring over the city like honey. The white buildings glow, the bay turns to gold and for a few perfect minutes San Sebastian looks like a city made of light. We descend from Monte Igualdo as the evening light softens, making our way to one of San Sebastian's most remarkable meeting places of art and nature, the Peña del viento. The wind combs. The walk takes us along the western edge of Ondareta Beach, where the city gradually gives way to the raw Atlantic coast. The character changes here from the protected perfection of La Concha to something wilder, more elemental.
Speaker 1:Eduardo Chilida, the great Basque sculptor, created these three steel sculptures in 1977. This spot was special to him, his childhood refuge, where he would come to watch storms. Childhood refuge, where he would come to watch storms. Each sculpture weighs over nine tons court and steel that rusts to a deep brown. Embedded directly into the coastal rocks. They look both ancient and modern, as if they've either been here forever or just arrived from the future.
Speaker 1:The first sculpture stands 80 meters from shore, rising from the rocks like fingers reaching for the sky, or perhaps like a giant's comb left behind after grooming the waves. The architect Luis Peña Ganchegi, designed the surrounding plaza a rose granite amphitheater that seems to grow from the rocks themselves. There's an underground system of channels and blowholes, so when the waves are strong, water surges up through openings in the plaza, creating fountains of sea spray. Tonight the sea is calm, but we can still hear the conversation between steel and water. The waves lap against the sculptures, the wind whistles through their tines and occasionally a larger wave sends spray dancing through the metal fingers. There's something deeply meditative about this place the repetitive sound of waves, the solid presence of the sculptures, the endless horizon where sky meets sea. People come here and just sit, sometimes for hours, watching the eternal dialogue between human creativity and natural force. From here we can look back at the entire sweep of the bay. The lights of the city are beginning to reflect in the water, creating a second San Sebastian that shimmers and dances on the waves. Let's make our way back toward the river to discover the peaceful gardens that provide the city's green heart.
Speaker 1:Christina Enea Park spreads over 95,000 square meters, making it one of Europe's most interesting historical parks. It was once the private estate of the Duke and Duchess of Mandis, created between 1863 and 1890 as their romantic retreat. The name means Christina's House in Basque, and there's something homey about this vast park. It feels less like a public space and more like the grounds of a particularly generous friend who's always happy to have visitors. Pierre Ducasse yes, him again Designed the gardens in the English Romantic style. Trees from five continents create a botanical United Nations. A 30-meter Lebanese cedar holds court near the entrance. Giant sequoias from California reach toward the sky. A ginkgo biloba planted in 1865 spreads its fan-shaped leaves. But the stars of the park are the peacocks. They're descendants of a pair donated by Barcelona in 1977, and they rule the park with magnificent disdain. During mating season, the males display their incredible tail feathers, creating fans of iridescent blue and green that seem to capture all the colors of the bay.
Speaker 1:Five kilometers of paths wind through the park, each one revealing different aspects of this green oasis. There's the mysterious forest section where the path disappears into shadows and you half expect to meet a fairy tale character. There's the elliptical clearing, dominated by that massive ginkgo, its ancient presence creating a natural cathedral. The bridge of dwarves crosses a small stream, though the dwarfs themselves seem to be off duty this evening. Perhaps they have a union agreement about working hours. Red squirrels jump between branches, completely unafraid of quiet visitors. The pond hosts swans, ducks and turtles, all coexisting in peaceful aquatic democracy. As dusk deepens, we might hear the call of tawny owls beginning their nocturnal hunt. The Urumia River forms one boundary of the park and we follow its banks back toward the city center.
Speaker 1:The river has seven bridges, each with its own character. The Maria Cristina Bridge is the most elegant, inspired by Paris' Pont Alexandre III. Four 18-meter obelisks rise from its corners, topped with golden horses that catch the last light of day. Decorative dragons guard the lampposts, because apparently regular lampposts weren't fancy enough for 1905. San Sebastian. The Santa Catalina Bridge from 1872 was the city's first. Its 1926 lampposts by Juan Alde have become symbols of the city. The Zurriola Bridge shows off magnificent Art Deco lampposts from 1921, their geometric designs looking surprisingly modern, against the contemporary Cursall Congress Center behind them.
Speaker 1:The riverside walks are perfect for evening strolls. Belle Époque buildings line both banks, their facades reflected in the calm water. The sound of the river is constant but gentle, a liquid whisper that's been flowing through the city since before there was a city. As we walk, the city lights create golden ribbons on the water. The evening air carries the scent of the sea, mixed with blooming flowers from the gardens. Somewhere a church bell tolls the hour, its bronze voice echoing off the water and stone.
Speaker 1:As night fully embraces San Sebastian, we return to La Concha Bay for our final peaceful moments in this remarkable city. The beach at night has a completely different character. The crowds are gone, the sand is cool and smooth and the bay becomes a mirror for the lights of the city. We walk slowly along the water's edge where the waves create a rhythm older than memory. Each wave arrives with a soft whisper, spreads itself thin on the sand and retreats with a gentle sigh. The sand and retreats with a gentle sigh. It's the earth's own lullaby, playing on an endless loop since the oceans were born.
Speaker 1:The lights along the promenade create perfect circles of gold, those iconic lampposts that have watched over evening walks for over a century. Each one casts a warm pool of light, but between them, gentle shadows create spaces for quiet contemplation. Santa Clara Island is just a dark silhouette now, but its lighthouse blinks steadily, a patient heartbeat in the darkness. The light has been automated since the 1960s, but it maintains the same rhythm that guided sailors home for over a century. The Belle Époque buildings along the seafront are illuminated, their facades glowing like elaborate stage sets the Hôtel de Londres et d'Angleterre, the former casino that's now City Hall, the elegant apartment buildings with their wrought iron balconies, all lit to show their best architectural features. A few late evening swimmers are still in the water, their voices carrying across the calm surface. There's something magical about swimming at night, when the water feels warmer than the air and every stroke creates phosphorescent ripples.
Speaker 1:We find a bench on the promenade, one of hundreds that line the bay, each one positioned for optimal contemplation of sea and sky. From here we can see the entire sweep of the bay, monte Urgo, to our right, its sacred heart statue illuminated Monte Igualdo, to our left, with lights from the hotel twinkling at its summit, and between them this perfect crescent of sand and sea. Perfect crescent of sand and sea. The air is soft and salt-tinged, that particular combination of ocean and city that defines seaside resorts. But here it's refined, elegant, as if even the air has learned good manners from a century of hosting royalty, from a century of hosting royalty Behind us, the old town is settling into its nighttime rhythm.
Speaker 1:The Pentaxos bars are still busy, but the energy is mellower now. Conversations are quieter, laughter is softer, even footsteps seem gentler on the ancient stones. The church bells have stopped their hourly announcements, leaving only the sound of the sea and the occasional call of a nightbird. Sometimes you can hear music drifting from a bar, traditional Basque melodies or soft Spanish guitar, but it never intrudes, only adds another layer to the evening's quiet symphony.
Speaker 1:This is San Sebastian at its most peaceful, when the day-trippers have gone, the tours have ended and the city returns to its residents and those wise enough to stay. And the city returns to its residents and those wise enough to stay. The tide is coming in now, each wave reaching a little higher on the beach. By morning, the sand will be smooth and clean, ready for another day of footprints and sandcastles, but for now it belongs to the night and the sea. A couple walks past, hand in hand, their footsteps silent on the sand. They don't speak, they don't need to. The bay speaks for them, in the language of waves and wind, and starlight on water. This is the gift of San Sebastian, a city that understands the art of living well, of taking time for evening strolls and morning swims, of preserving beauty without embalming it, of honoring the past while embracing the present.
Speaker 1:Tomorrow we'll explore Cordoba, with its magnificent Mesquita and ancient Roman bridge, but tonight, tonight, belongs to this perfect bay, this gentle city, these waves that have been singing their lullaby since long before there were ears to hear them. The moon is rising now, painting a silver path across the water. It stretches from the horizon to the shore, as if inviting us to walk on water, which would certainly make the swim to Santa Clara Island easier, though considerably less refreshing. As we sit here, wrapped in the peaceful embrace of La Concha Bay, we understand why queens and artists and everyday people have been drawn here for centuries. It's not just the physical beauty that certainly helps, it's the feeling that here life moves at the proper pace, not rushed, not stagnant, but flowing like the tide, natural and inevitable and deeply, profoundly peaceful. Sleep well, fellow travelers. May your dreams carry you along moonlit promenades and through peaceful basque nights, wrapped in the gentle embrace of san sebastian's perfect bay.
