Biarritz is Basque country. San Sebastian is Basque country, too – the heartland of it. Yet Biarritz is very French and San Sebastian very Spanish. The cast-iron balconies with red flowers, the music loud in cars and cafés, the chaotic lunch hour in a pintxo restaurant – it is all so quintessentially Spanish. Where the French are elegantly laid back, the Spanish are loudly casual. Where the French love white and light houses, the Spanish in San Sebastian use more heavy, dark colors to make a town lively, energetic, and a little chaotic, but equally beautiful as France.
Strolling down the streets of San Sebastian old town (or Donostia as it is called in Basque language), I found it hard to believe that we were still in the same ethnic and cultural country, as so much has changed after the border between France and Spain split the ancient Basque country in two. 
It is a strange thought how insensitively Spain and France divided the country, dividing at the same time an ethnic group in half. Perhaps a little similar to Ireland and Northern Ireland; or when Sweden and Russia tossed the Finnish borders around. Nobody asked the Basques, but they ended up in the middle, without a choice. Their language, food, culture, and way of life was suddenly divided. Families were divided (although EU now allows an open border). And in one way worst of all, the Spanish Basques have, with their sometimes unjustified actions through armed conflict, reached a level of autonomy that the French can only dream of. In France one must become French it seems. Nothing else is really acceptable in the long run. And so nobody seems to care about the Basques – except that they make nice cakes and goats cheese, and pretty colorful striped weaves. 
But we were simply ignorant day tourists who cared more for the lovely Belle Epoque time architecture, digging our toes into the sand of the La Concha beach, and the pintxos. Oh, the pintxos! I have no idea of what I ate half of the time, but goodness me it was delicious. Although, what can one expect when the San Sebastian night sky is bejeweled by Michelin stars, more than anywhere else on the globe compared to population count. It is weeks since we returned from San Sebastian now, but I can still taste every single pintxo I had that day. Oh what simple beings we humans are. 
(San Sebastian, Spain; July 2016)
Tag Archives: food
Hipster Kings X
King’s Cross-St Pancras was only a train station to me. A place that took me to Cambridge, a place of transition. Nobody told me that behind the huge buildings was a whole hipster world, with an art school, happenings, interesting buildings, and a Dishoom. Dish-yum.
Sipping our old-style cocktails with a twist in the bar I could not help but admire the marketeer who had come up with the idea of imitating an old, colonial-Indian-Persian blended Bombay Café. Perhaps time has passed long enough so that the strong English colonial vibe is not considered offensive. It is only when there is enough space between us and a milieu, preferably a whole generation, that something oppressive or negative becomes swanky and cool.
Some like Dishoom. Other frown and prefer their local curry house. I don’t care much for curry and I absolutely loved Dish-yum, right down to the salty lassi. Even after the 40-minute wait outside and another 20 minutes in the bar.
Kings Cross, I will actually spend some time outside of your train terminal some time soon. If not for else than taking in your cool vibe and more of this food.
(London, United Kingdom; June 2016)
Ubud organic craze
Cashew milk spirulina raw chocolate mint smoothie for breakfast at Clear Café, raw tex mex food for lunch at Earth, and lovely vegan candlenut coconut curry for dinner at Yellow Flower Café. Beer is not my cup of tea, the local wine tastes terrible, and most of the Indonesian fare is vegan. Ubud is probably the easiest place in the world to subconsciously slip into a healthy eating lifestyle.
Nothing better than lazy afternoons in café Atman sipping peppermint tea or a chocolate date almond milk shake, surrounded by pillows, people wired into the world on their MacBooks. And nothing worse than jamu health tonic at Clear Café. But they say it is good for you… and it colors your tongue and lips bright yellow. I drank it all. I hope the gods are happy with me.
(Ubud, Bali, Indonesia; August 2015)
Texture
There were silver birches lining the way in. There were slate stone plates for bread and black lava salt to go with the grassy delicious olive oil. There was a wonderful taste journey from Norway to Iceland to France to the UK. And to finish there was the softest creamiest skyr I have tasted, both chilled and frozen. And when we thought the journey was over there were warm, soft pistacchio madeleines, cinnamon truffles, and Fisherman’s Friend macaroons, all tucked into a little moss-covered bowl.
And just as we were about to leave, someone pushed little pouches with more cinnamon truffles into our hands. Oh yes, I think the Icelandic chef of Texture has many new friends in my taste buds.
(Texture, London, United Kingdom; March 2015)
This blue marble 