It got me thinking that the same way a pre American Civil Rights Movement generation was deprived of the privilege of watching Lebron-James bowl through defenders and throw down a frightening-yet-beautiful dunk. I’ve been deprived of witnessing other relatively cute lesbians make out by society’s bias against homosexuality.
And the fact that that thought made sense to me in San Sebastian is a testament to the city’s spell-binding beauty and cuisine that leaves you incapable of forming rational ideas.
Other things that hopefully make more sense
• We stayed in the apartment of a guy who was from Bahia Blanca (the Argentine city that lead me to Paul McPherson), which gave me the feeling I never needed of the trip coming full circle with my last continent-transversing excursion.
• Our last night in San Sebastian, we stared at the city from the end of the bay, while a guy fished in moonlight behind us.
Once he caught one I ran over to be a silly tourist and take a picture of the fish's flailing body. Then he covered it with a small white cloth and said “golpe de muerte” death blow and karate chopped it to death. I thought that was a pretty solid ending to the trip.