san sebastian, january 24, 2004
san sebastian in the winter is a quiet city by the sea, large but not menacing. its buildings are of nearly uniform height and in the narrow streets of certain districts rise like delicately sculptered walls. walking through the parte vieja at night can be like navigating an ancient, deserted maze. the height of the buildings and angular streets disguise the relatively small size of the old city, which sits astride a spit of land between the rio urumea and the concha. the buildings are similar enough that geographic confusion is a common sensation. small signs dart out from over doorways indicating this or that bar or restaurant, and all of them in the cartoonish basque script.the wind picks up as you near the waterfront and a stone arch through which boats are visible, channeling down the streets, destroying umbrellas and flapping coat tails, until you see a yellow light at the base of a stone stair which becomes, in that instant, the most appealing sight of warmth and comfort ever seen, which it would not be if not for the harshness of the weather. thereby, the concept of interior space is directly related to the outside. in this fashion the imposing facade of buildings and labyrinthine streets collapses into tiny cave-like rooms and narrow staircases, segmented flats, single beds pushed together and filling a room.
posted by Jon @ 08:02
