Up at 5:15, met pre-ordered taxi at 6:10, arrived at the ENORMOUS Central Bus Station at 6:20 where there was not a soul in sight. Think GCT without a security guard, cleaning person, nadie. Fortunately, the taxista told me to take the elevator. Got on the elevator and there were four floors to choose from. Chose #4, got off elevator, saw an electronic screen reading out departures, but mine was not among them. There, in this enormous space, were about twenty turnstiles but no passengers, drivers, nadie. Totally empty. Tried another floor, saw one big bus. Went up to driver to ask for help, telling said driver that the bus to Pamplona was not listed on the board downstairs...well, it turned out that was because those were train listings. Who knew that trains left from the Central Bus Station? Bus scheduled to depart at 6:55. At 6:51 a disheveled guy showed up, he got on the bus, fiddled with this and that, opened the luggage compartment and pulled out at 6:55 on the dot.
Arrived at Pamplona, but Eduardo, the pre-hired taxista was not in the taxi zone; he was at street level. Without too much ado, we met, took off, and arrived in San Sebastian at 10:30. A word about Eduardo. He had a tattoo on his arm that provoked me to ask, "Do you speak Hebrew?" (Maybe he was descended from Conversos or something). "No," he said, "I just like the way the letters look." I told him how to pronounce the word, still thinking heritage; I am also thinking he is not up on world events or he might be wearing a long-sleeved shirt. (Last time I was in Spain I had a taxi driver who wore a Magen David "just because she liked the way it looked." She claimed she had no idea what it even was.)
San Sebastian is one lovely city. View from a bridge:
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