My ID: 8:18am, Thursday, 13 June 2002; San Sebastian (via train from Biarritz, France)
The moment I walked into this nice seaside town, I felt a good vibe. Being by the shore with palm trees reminded me of Southern California, one of my comfort zones. I was also much more familiar with Spanish than some other languages, so I felt more confident to be able to communicate. Also, being from America, there were so many times I had stared out into the Atlantic Ocean from Virginia Beach or Brooklyn and wondered what was on the other side. Now, here I was, staring back.
I spent hours walking along the shore, and up a large hill to a statue of Jesus that overlooked the city. My favorite place was a rocky edge of the sea at the base of that hill, where the refreshing greenish-blue water rattled into a foam as if inviting me into a hot tub, with a strong smell of seaweed and saltwater consuming me. My friend said it reminded her of the Little Mermaid’s rock.
The weather was overcast—all I could see was a westward haze as the sea blended seamlessly into the sky—but I felt relaxed. And welcome.