I Rescued Myself in the Food-Filled Streets of San Sebastián

When life throws you curveballs you didn't ask for, food can save you in more ways than one

This week’s essay is an incredibly personal one so I’ve decided to keep it for the eyes of my paid subscribers only. This is not a marketing ploy to reel you in just to slap up the paywall. This is about me feeling comfortable enough to be vulnerable within a smaller space on the internet.

Having said that, if you’ve been thinking about becoming a paid subscriber, I’d love to have you in the inner circle…

We nearly didn’t go.

“It’s too busy,” I complained. “It’s become too touristy. It’s a shadow of what it used to be when we first visited.”

A few weeks ago, my husband and I embarked on a travel-without-itinerary vacation. A one-way ticket to Málaga, three days of accommodation then nothing. We were at the mercy of the travel gods and the cheap airlines.

We nearly went to Rome and Naples. For a hot minute, we considered Paris until we saw the cost of hotel rooms. Eventually, we found a flight to Bilbao. From there, a bus to San Sebastián and finally, a train to France. A good itinerary, we agreed.

But San Sebastián? I had reservations.

Yet memory is strong. This would be my third visit to the city. The first time in 2018 was magical. Every skewered pintxo — the small bites of tapas-like food piled onto every bar in town — every glass of wine, every bustling bar teeming with life and vibes filled my food-and-wine-obsessed heart to the brim.

After the year I’ve had, I wanted that feeling again.