Day 1 – The Trip There
January 2022. The big Christmas feast was over, everyone loved everyone else, and of course we celebrated the New Year in style. But obviously, that wasn’t what captured my imagination the most. My time management has never been great; I even got my passport done quickly between the two holidays just to have it, even though as a Hungarian citizen I don’t actually need one to travel to Spain. Somehow I always end up cramming everything into the last minute—I need the excitement. This time was no different: I’d already booked my January language exam back in December—it was scheduled for January 5—but in the meantime, my favorite boss managed to push back the date of my first trip to January 8. Ahh, no problem—I’ll breeze through the exam and then take off for the skies; that’s how I pictured it. 🪿
Reality wasn’t all that far off from that, though I would have been surprised myself if, after a month of active practice and diving into the deep end, I’d still be drowning in English. My family drove me to the airport for my first trip; the company hadn’t come up with any plan yet, and I felt a bit more comfortable that way, too. Did I mention, by the way, that this was also my very first flight? — yep. Obviously, I’d watched plenty of *Air Disasters* beforehand to prepare myself—so that at the critical moment, I could spread out like a thin pancake, hoping that even a more discerning con artist might pay me for it.
We’ve arrived at Ferihegy… Airport, fluttering in the wind 🎶 ahem, uh. So here I am—what’s next? Oh, check-in. All right, there are the counters. I rushed forward like a whirlwind, waving all my pre-printed boarding passes in my hand. (I really didn’t need any of that at all.) I drop off my luggage, and then a pleasant, high-pitched voice comes from behind the counter:
– Do you have your COVID certificate?
– Are you kidding me? I’ll kiss your little hand? Well, you’re looking at a true pro right here. Come on, move along—it’s my turn.
And with that, I handed over the plastic card—which had been working perfectly as an ice scraper up until then—with great enthusiasm; it’s not good for anything else anyway.
– That’s fine, but you’ll need to fill out the Spanish COVID questionnaire before departure; they’ll ask for it when you land. Scan the QR code on the board outside—that’ll take you to the page.
Uh… okay? At least my boarding pass was handed to me… Go to the site, select a language… oh my… the web developer who designed that site… I wish his parents had just gone for a walk during those three minutes or something…
But at least I felt the profound emotional support from my family, who were able to follow the whole process in true Hungarian fashion, just like at an average construction site. One suffers, three watch and lecture. Success! Great, well then there’s nothing left to do—I have to head into the transit area; it’s time for a tearful goodbye. Kisses, kisses, I’ll be right back—it’s just a matter of weeks.
And there I was, already rushing to the security check, where—after dumping everything out—I skillfully dropped my AirPods on the other side, which then sent my earbuds flying in every direction. – Damn it… Never mind, at least the staff is so helpful. I managed to fish out my left earbud from behind the third X-ray machine, and they even gave me a sanitizing wipe—see, I told you they’re great, a solid 6 out of 6! I bought a small bottle of water at a ridiculous price, then (was about to) head for the gate when two pretty ladies pulled me into a booth—they weren’t speaking Hungarian—to show me some ointment that would make my skin as soft as a baby’s bottom. I mean… so smooth… though I don’t even know what that’s like… never mind. I don’t know why they singled me out—did I look that lost, or was I just an old guy who needs something like that? The young girl started rubbing the ointment on my hand and then eagerly asked, “See how it’s lifting off the dead skin? By the way, what do you do for a living—you’re a doctor, right?…”Well… a doctor, I guess… a pathologist—isn’t that obvious? My face is usually way too revealing, so I can imagine she must have read something like this off it: “See how little I give a shit?” Leave me alone, let me get back to the blood.
I politely brushed off the harpies and continued on my way to the gate. Great, found it—time to board! We took a bus out to the plane; the airline was Iberia. At that point, it didn’t mean anything to me yet, but that’s when I understood exactly what “low-cost” meant. Actually, I was already happy that I didn’t have to travel with chickens in the cargo hold. That didn’t dampen my spirits, though, since the experience of the first takeoff and the sudden acceleration made up for everything. 🛫
My destination was San Sebastián, where—of course—there’s no direct flight, so I had to transfer in Madrid, then fly on to Bilbao Airport, and from there… well, how on earth was I supposed to get to San Sebastián? That’s still about 80 km, but you can probably guess the answer… WELL, NOT ON FOOT! Ahem… my apologies.
So there I was, nibbling on my little 12.5-euro cheese croissant at the Madrid airport and still pestering my boss at 6 p.m. to just tell me which stronger mind-altering substance the poet was on when he planned this trip? The answer wasn’t reassuring at all—“Well, I don’t know, I just spoke with your mentor, and he said he’s already had a few drinks and can’t come pick you up, so take a taxi to the hotel.” Uh-huh… nothing could be more natural, except we hadn’t accounted for one relatively important factor… Who on earth is going to pay for this? —Because, you see, I’d been given a virtual card for the hotel that I could use to pay, but it wasn’t good for anything else. I couldn’t even dream of getting a corporate credit card; Hungarian banks won’t even consider a newly formed company until it’s been around for a year.
Great. We landed in Bilbao, picked up my luggage—everything was there, hooray. Once outside, I didn’t have to struggle at all to flag down a taxi—I turned twice, and my luggage was already in the trunk of a CLA. At that point, I really had no choice but to go with him, so I hopped into the front passenger seat. Our driver was really laid-back; he didn’t speak much English, but what little he did, he said with great enthusiasm. We went through all the Hungarian music he loves, and he enthusiastically played the role of Spotify DJ for me the whole way—I enjoyed it and wasn’t bored for a single minute. I couldn’t really see much of the scenery anyway at 9 p.m., so I just enjoyed the ride.
We arrived. Phew, what an exciting day—I quickly paid the well-deserved €120, carefully keeping the receipt, then rushed to the front desk to check in. Eight weeks’ worth of hotel fees paid in advance… damn, if I have to pay for this too, I’d rather just stand on the side of the road… but no… the terminal beeps, accepted—yess. Room key, quickly up to the room—a cute little studio-style whatever, a small bedroom-kitchen combo, a bathroom—that’s it. Perfect—and with that momentum, I plunged headfirst into bed. I didn’t really need a lullaby that day. 🛌😴
Day 2 – Waking Up
After a pleasant, restful night’s sleep, my mentor and I met up in the morning, and since he had the rental car, we drove together—not for free, of course; I was in charge of the beer at the end of the day. When I got in next to him as the passenger, I never would have dreamed that we’d be leaving the parking lot with the engine roaring, bouncing gracefully like a mountain goat. It turned out he was a new driver and this was practically the first time he’d driven since passing his test… great… we’re not going to die right now, are we?—I thought, muttering three Our Fathers under my breath. That’s when I started to figure out why he’d been “drinking” the night before. At least his excellent taste in music made up for it, so over the next few weeks I got to explore everything from metal and punk rock to drum ’n’ bass. So off we went in the little Opel, its tank full of checkered-patterned gas, on a trip that took less than 15 minutes. We arrived, found the place—but wait a minute… what’s this? You have to imagine the “fortress” as some sort of reinforced concrete structure without doors or windows, so ventilation was naturally guaranteed—in fact, the gentle 3–7-degree breeze was downright refreshing in the Spanish winter. Well, I put that very nicely, so let me translate… it was freezing cold. The situation was so dire that we got permission from headquarters to use company funds to buy as many warm clothes as we needed, just so we could stay there. Plus, we bought tents, which we then designated as heated warming stations inside the building. We waded our way through neck-deep mud into the building—since it wasn’t freezing but there was plenty of fog and rain, everything was a beautiful green, even beyond the sea of mud—and that’s when the perfectly reasonable question formed in my mind: “Did I really think this through when I left my previous place, which was heated and had all the utilities?” Of course, once they deposited my first paycheck, that thought never crossed my mind again. You’ve got to give something to get something, right? 🤷♂️
Within a few days, we got to know everyone; it turned out that one of my classmates from the training program had also been sent here, so at least I wouldn’t be the only trainee. Later, he told me he’d just graduated from college, which meant he handled tools about as well as… well, he wasn’t exactly a natural at it. For example, I taught him how to take electrical measurements and read blueprints, but it was really a bit of a struggle since he grew up in the U.S. The upside was that at least I had someone to practice proper English with, hehe.
The electricians recommended a good restaurant nearby—3–4 different lunch menus, 2 main courses, plus dessert or coffee at the end, all for a total of no more than 11€. All of this was served with such high-quality, unassuming service—it almost felt like I was at home. Plus, we always got authentic ripe Spanish olives and bread as an appetizer, hmm. 🤤 Phew, it’s a good thing we went there every day. Just the thought of having to go back to the “cold storage”… I remember one day a couple of newly arrived coworkers came down with us; the waitress already asked me by name what I’d like to eat today, while they just stared with wide eyes
– She knows your name? 😮
– Of course she does—what do you think? We’ve been coming here almost every day for about three months now. 😏
Time to explore—unwinding after work
As our group started to grow a bit, the idea came up: shouldn’t we just pop down to downtown to look around? The bus stop was a 2-minute walk from the hotel. Maybe thanks to COVID, but the bus already had a contactless payment terminal, so for €2.85 per ride, I could basically go anywhere. After a roughly 20-minute bus ride, we were in the heart of San Sebastián—and more importantly, at the beach! 🌊. As soon as we arrived, everyone was obviously starving, so my Croatian colleague immediately suggested that… we find a Japanese restaurant—he really wanted to eat ramen… of course…In Spain, the first thing we do is go into a Japanese restaurant… you’re wired the wrong way around, my friend. In the end, we had some really delicious ramen…
The First Relaxing Weekend
Of course, after that little taste after work, nobody wanted to wrap up the city with a bowl of Japanese soup (though, seriously, it was really tasty), so we set out over the weekend while it was still light out, with all the time in the world at our disposal. We didn’t have a specific destination in mind; we just wandered around, going with the flow. Well, actually, there was one place everyone wanted to go: the huge Jesus statue at the top of the city —Big Jesus— (which, by the way, was actually a statue of Saint Sebastian), if only because there was a little kiosk at the top of the hill where they revived tired tourists with a little spirit—and wine. Because, by the way, it was really high up—and if you had to walk up, there wasn’t really any other way to get there. I coughed my lungs out 2.5 times, even though I was in pretty good shape back then. So we sat down at a table to chill with a glass of red wine in hand, nibbling on olives and taking in the panoramic view. I’m starting to feel that Spanish vibe. 😎
The walk back down was much more relaxing, and our first stop was at a restaurant where I had one of the best beef cheeks I’ve ever eaten. It was tender and juicy—you didn’t even need a knife; it just fell apart—and ahh, why am I torturing myself? 🫣
After lunch, we walked along the beach, taking magical, artistic photos, and then continued our exploration through the narrow streets of the old town. I wasn’t sure if some kind of fair was being set up or if it’s just a typical weekend here—with jugglers, street musicians, various artists, painters, a carousel, and a Ferris wheel—but the atmosphere was absolutely amazing. It completely sucks you in if you don’t pay attention for even a moment—the whole place is just bursting with life. Despite the temperature being in the low teens, quite a few people had poked their noses out of their little nooks on that sunny afternoon, which surprised me a bit.
We walked and walked some more, then sat down on a little hill, but when a pastry shop suddenly appeared out of nowhere right in front of us, we had to go in for a coffee—though, of course, we didn’t stop at just one. After all, there were so many interesting and delicious-looking sweets on display that I just had to try a few. Sorry, that’s my weakness—when I see something interesting to eat, I have to taste it 🤷♂️
Not long after, with a fancy-smancy, fluffy-and-creamy treat in my hand and some other goodies, we sat down at the outdoor tables to enjoy ourselves. On the way back, walking along the beach, we saw a few artistic souls creating sand drawings on the shore—it’s amazing how much patience they have. Not to mention, they look absolutely amazing, so we tossed them a few coins from above, like we would to pigeons—the more well-off among us threw 5- or 10-euro bills, for which our artist was visibly grateful. Unfortunately, the day went by quickly and it got chilly; besides, after such a long day, it’s good to rest up a bit for the next expedition. A quick hot shower, and then off to bed. 🛌
An Unexpected Day Off—A Game of Thrones Pilgrimage Site—Bilbao
One morning, in the midst of our peaceful idleness, a message came from the electricians: “There’s no power in the area; there’s no point in you coming in.” See, we really should have paid that darn electricity bill on time, but why listen to me… Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now—we’ll just have to wait. Since that’s how things turned out, we strolled down to the hotel’s little restaurant to discuss the situation over a caffeinated drink and some freshly squeezed orange juice.
We waited a little while, just in case we’d get a call saying the bill had been paid, the power was back on, and we could go. We managed to hold off until 9 o’clock, when it occurred to us: Since we can’t do anything anyway, let’s not get bored. Bilbao is right nearby—not quite 80 km away—and they filmed a few scenes from *Game of Thrones* somewhere on the outskirts; we could go on a pilgrimage there. And the city can’t be boring—it’s definitely more exciting than the four walls of a hotel room, that’s for sure. 🚶♂️🥾
It didn’t take much convincing anyone that a casual outing in the sunshine was much better for us than staying cooped up in the “cold storage,” so we hopped into two cars and headed straight for Bilbao. We must have been about halfway there when everyone started calling to check in and ask where we were, since we could get back to work. We diplomatically explained that there was really no point in starting anything at this hour, and besides, we weren’t even close by—after all, we’d set out to go kite-watching. In return, we kindly promised that we’d diligently make up for everything on a Saturday and exceed all expectations by at least 300%—come on, give me a break…
We’ve arrived—time to hike! To reach the little island, you first have to scramble quite a long way down a relatively steep slope in the valley, but they’ve thought of us—the trail is fairly well-maintained. Since not everyone could keep up with the pace, we agreed not to go up to the small monastery at the top of the island, but from the lookout point, we were able to take some masterful photos with the iconic location in the background. A few colleagues started recounting the story from the movie, but I—go ahead and stone me—could only watch and listen with wide, sparkling eyes, since I hadn’t seen a single episode—sorry. 🙈🤷♂️
Panting gently, we made our way back to the start of the trail—because obviously no one had thought about the fact that we’d have to come back once we’d run down — then, after surviving a mild heart attack, we stumbled into a restaurant-like place that, of course, wasn’t officially open yet that day, but they always offer pintxos (pronounced “pintsó”—that typical Spanish mini-sandwich) and some kind of dreadful egg-based concoction, along with a few coffees, are always on offer.
On the way to downtown, we marveled at what a terribly ugly neighborhood these Spaniards live in, especially in the houses along the coast, and then we managed to park somewhere near the Guggenheim Museum. If the building’s shiny gold panels and modern architectural style didn’t already grab your attention, a little dog made entirely of flowers in front of the entrance reminds us that something decidedly hyper-artistic is definitely going on here. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to see the inside, even though their website lists some very promising exhibitions—I’ve added this to my bucket list 😉
Once I reached the city center, what struck me most was the endless calm—a feeling that’s actually characteristic of the whole country’s atmosphere. Spaniards aren’t generally a stressed-out people, and this is evident in everything—in traffic etiquette, while shopping, in restaurants, and everywhere in everyday life. The afternoon siesta—and the fact that restaurants are often closed from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. because of it—along with the “that’s just the way it is” attitude, is almost world-famous, but personally, I found it a bit hard to accept 🙂
The Last Few Days—A Walk Along the Beach, the Town of Pasaia, and a Trip to Zarautz
San Sebastián is an interesting city in many ways. Somehow, it has never (thank goodness) become a massive tourist attraction, even though it has the potential to be one given its prime location. The city center is full of life, with beautiful Neo-Gothic buildings, and there are some very interesting sights within a radius of about 50–100 km. The French border isn’t too far away either, and the Riviera is close by—Biarritz and Bayonne, for example, are absolutely charming little towns. I know, I know… besides, who the heck wants to run into the French? Believe me, that’s exactly how I feel too…
All right, I’ll show you—here comes a little detour: Biarritz and Bayonne—France
I only ended up on the French side because one weekend nobody wanted to do anything, and I… well, even back then I had a hard time sitting still for long once I was in such an exotic place. So that’s how it happened that a Spanish colleague and I headed to France to check out the coast there too—it’s so much different from just about 100 km away. Of course, after parking and walking toward the beach along the sidewalk, the mess left behind by careless dog owners immediately set the tone for the country—but let’s not jump to conclusions.
In the square in front of the city market, we stumbled upon a phenomenon that was quite interesting (to me). I don’t know if this is an everyday occurrence around here or if everyone had just been drinking something strong from the same bowl, but the entire square began dancing in sync to the music being played. A video can be viewed in one of the Instagram posts: #mostlylost_travel
On February 27 in Biarritz, the weather was such that everything around the beach was a beautiful shade of green, and it was perfect for a pleasant walk. So I seized the opportunity to tap into all my artistic instincts and take some decent photos.
After getting washed by the spray of salt water as we walked back and forth on the pier —since the wind was quite strong—we set out to find a restaurant where, let’s say, I wouldn’t have to pay half the annual GDP of a poorer South American country for a lunch. Then I realized it wasn’t that the prices were high—it was just that I was broke…
In the end, we managed to find one where there was actually a table available for us and they spoke a little English (which is half the battle), and then I ordered the first beef tartare of my life—by accident, I might add. How should I put it… it’s one thing that I misread what was on the menu, but it’s another fact that it didn’t taste bad… but the thought that this was raw meat, ugh… I thought about sending it back to have it cooked through, but I figured that would’ve been signing my own death warrant, so I nibbled at it little by little—mostly sticking to a diet of lots of salad and bread—and ended up eating half of it. 🫣
After that hearty lunch, we drove over to Bayonne—yes, the town that gave its name to the bayonet and later the bayonet lock. After a terrible cup of machine-brewed coffee, while strolling through the narrow streets, I stumbled upon a wine shop where I tasted some higher-quality wines with cheese, of course, just as one should—I’m a true gourmet, after all. 🎩🍷🧀
After picking out a couple of good reds, we kept walking until we came across a crêpe stand. Crêpe… what the heck is that? It says “crêpe” on the sign, and the little girl is flipping them… Well, fine, give me one with Nutella since I’m already here—I’m sure I won’t get it all over myself… damn… whatever. A little more sightseeing, then off to a higher vantage point to enjoy the view. I mean, I would’ve enjoyed it if the gentleman next to me hadn’t started giving me weird looks and sighing heavily in the sunset… oh my god… I think it’s time to get out of here—and fast. 🫣
Back to the main story…so after work, anything is better than sitting around alone in my room, so we’d often just go out—as I usually put it, to “hang out.” Maybe that’s the most fitting description for it. There was always something new we hadn’t discovered yet, or something old that had changed just enough to keep us interested. Whether it was new drawings by the sand artists or a dog photobombing a picture of the waves—a photo that’s since become one of my favorites.
The Town of Pasaia
If not the town itself, then we went to explore the surrounding area. Pasaia was exactly that kind of expedition—one that, incidentally, was recommended to us by a local electrician. The weather was pretty lousy that day anyway, so it was hard to stand being outside without moving around. We really didn’t regret it, though getting there was a bit of an adventure—the only way to reach the little town was by “water bus.” No big deal, though, since a ride cost just 50 cents… seriously, they’re starting to charge more just to use a restroom. We hopped on and were soon chugging along on that old, stinky, tractor-smelling diesel boat.
Once we arrived, we were greeted by colorful, multi-story row houses reminiscent of traditional German-Dutch architecture, with little tables where you could sit back and relax, chat, have coffee, or just take it easy. We weren’t particularly moved by this, but with a short walk and by leaping over a few large rocks with some masterful parkour moves, we could reach the end of the peninsula at the lighthouse, where the view of the sea lapping at the cliffs was absolutely magical.
Before we headed back, since this was a fishing village, we couldn’t leave without trying some locally caught seafood. So we sat down at a cute little restaurant and, as if there were no tomorrow, ordered everything on the menu: lobster, clams, shrimp, a few different kinds of fish, some side dishes, and something to wash it all down. Up until then, I’d been pretty skeptical about seafood, but then I realized: when it’s made fresh from high-quality ingredients and prepared just right, it offers a truly unique taste experience.
Zarautz
Obviously, the three of us—my mentor, an Austrian colleague, and I—escaped boredom this time to explore the countryside. It’s getting a little boring that I’m always just talking about walks along the beach, isn’t it? If so, honestly, I couldn’t care less—sorry 😂
So there was a huge golf course along the coast, providing the perfect setting for the wealthier class’s favorite pastime. It was a bit windy that day, and since we’re not exactly in top shape, hiking was our go-to activity. A wooden staircase led us to the top of the little hill, where the panoramic view assured us that we were in the right place—and it didn’t matter one bit that we couldn’t play golf 🙂↕️
After the short walk, we figured we’d grab a bite to eat since it was past noon, and at that time of day, you really need to replenish your energy levels with something. We stopped at a little restaurant, but as usual, the main course wouldn’t be ready until later in the evening… hmm… so what should we do? There’s pintxos—all right, we picked out about 10 of them, and then the waiter asked the crucial question. “What would you like to drink?” He looked at me, and I looked at the others.
“Well… I don’t want anything alcoholic on my own, even if I’m not the one driving.” Then the Austrian girl heroically piped up and said…
“Well, that’s why I’m here!”
“Oh, right… well then, two Tinto de Verano” (I couldn’t drink that today—it’s that sweet wine-and-raspberry-syrup concoction).
A few days later, out of the blue, I got an unexpected call from my boss saying… “Guess what? I’m here in Paris working on a project, but unfortunately one of my people got sick—could you come over?” I felt that “pop over” was a slight exaggeration considering the town was 850 km away.
“But I’ve only been with the company for three months—do you think I have enough experience to handle the problems there?”
– Ahh, you’re smart—you’ve got a great attitude. Then I’ll book your ticket for the day after tomorrow, okay?
…Actually, I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? Well then…see you there.
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