As the sun slowly dips into the ocean and the crowds are migrating from the sand to the bars, I can still clearly see the outline of Christ overlooking the city at 9:30pm. Unlike the famous Redeemer looking over Rio de Janeiro welcoming guests with open arms, this Christ stands above a castle praying quietly over thousands of topless sunbathers.
I write this while sitting on Zorriolo beach, a surfer paradise in San Sebastian. I’ve decided that I’m really too old for hostels now and have been fortunate to find a place to stay at an apartment owned by a surf instructor, literally living across the beach. My private instruction with in the ocean helped me correct some of the bad habits I carried from my previous experience in Biarritz - spread wide after the jump, arch up before catching the wave, and stare into the distance. The feeling is nostalgic of old time travel films, where the screens become wavy like the motion of the ocean and coasting/warping toward an idyllic ancient town with so much history. Then I lose balance, fall overboard, swallow some sand, and arrive amongst the beautiful Basque people frolicking on the beach.
