san sebastián: my son’s drum solo on a beach, and why i’m already bored

i woke up at 5am because my roommate’s dog ate my earbuds. again. but then i saw this map thing online showing san sebastián, and instantly remembered that place smells like saltwater, luis borroch’s face, and someone screaming about flamenco at a tapas bar. so i packed a drum kit (fake one, it was a grocery cart with a pillow) and rolled into this city that’s basically a giant 70s hair metal poster mixed with a whole lotta grilled squid.

quick answers

q: is this place worth visiting?
a: only if you like loud music and pretentious locals who think ‘local’ means ‘clown college.’

q: is it expensive?
a: sure. i paid 15 euros for a sandwich that tasted like regret. but yelp says ‘authentic local vibes’ so i guess it’s a tax.

q: who would hate it here?
a: vegetarians. also anyone who can’t handle being serenaded by a dog with a saxophone. it’s a new thing.

q: best time to visit?
a: when it rains. because then the locals play drums in the streets and the raccoons stop judging you.

the weather here? 27 degrees. feels like a sauna where everyone’s trying to play jazz royalty. humidity’s messing with my snare drum-it’s squeaking like a banshee. tried to fix it by oiling it with olives, didn’t work. the seagulls kept stealing my sticks. classic.

here’s a thing you need to know: the tapas tradition is broken. i heard from a local that it’s a scam. you pay for a tiny plate of alioli then a guy appears demanding 5 more euros. but some old timers swear the fish stew is worth it. i don’t know. i only ate it once and cried.

another cool insight? this city has a weird rule: if you walk past a fountain with a statue of a guy drinking, you have to clap. if you don’t, they’ll play a loud tremolo pick on your ear. it’s probably true. i tried it. clapped. the fountain spat out a discount on homemade jam.

i also learned from reddit that the street art scene is a myth. most of it’s just people scribbling ‘i hate tourists’ on walls. but there’s this one mural of a drumset made from human hands. sad. art’s supposed to be hopeful, right?

staying in a hostel near the beach was a disaster. roommates were like a dense pack of pigeons. one of them claimed to be a ‘digital nomad’ but spent all day filming crowiset. weird. locals warned me about the power outages. turned out, they meant the actual blackouts, not some cryptic vibe. my laptop died twice during a jam session. duty call.

best advice i got? buy bread from a market, not a shop. the bakery near the port sells loafs that taste like grandma’s love. also, aquabux is overrated. just drink tap water. some idiot paid 5 euros for a bottle and later cried into a sangria.

images like a weird hierarchy. that first one? houses on a hillside. they look like a dream someone forgot to save. the second is a body of water with black and white houses. spoiler: it’s not a lake. it’s the sea. third image? concrete buildings near the sea. reminds me of a prison with better lighting.

someone told me the best time to visit is when there’s a bullfight. apparently, the noise is so loud it’ll make your snare drum sound like a heartbeat. i rolled my eyes. bullfights are boring. but then again, i’m a drummer, not a performance artist.

conclusion? san sebastián is a city that wants you to perform sad music. it’s humid, expensive, and full of people who think they’re artists. but if you’re into cheap thrills and bad decisions, it’s your playground. don’t come here if you’re expecting quiet. or sanity.

links: tripadvisor says ‘noisy tourist trap’ but their photos are of a quiet alley. yelp reviews mention the tapas scam 47 times. reddit has a thread titled ‘why is every bar playing saxaphone?’ and it has 12,000 upvotes. local market recommends their spanish olives-pricey, weird, packed with history probably.