So while I was in Deba, I got to be there during the festival of San Roke, which meant everyone dressed up in white and red and there was a mini carnival and music and everyone drank all night and slept all morning and hit repeat for four days. During the festival, there also ended up being bull fighting, which is tradition to have at any of the festivals. If you’ve ever talked to a Spaniard about bullfighting, you’ll know that it’s an either or situation. For them, there’s no middle ground, you either agree with it or else you don’t. Continue reading
The second week I was in Deba, several family members and friends and I walked part of the Way of St. James. It’s a popular route for backpackers and you can definitely see why. We started off at 10am and took the train to Zumaia and walked back to Deba. All in all, it took about five hours and was absolutely stunning. It takes you along rolling hills and by the sea, through various little towns and tiny paths tucked away in forests with parts of it taken up by mud. Which doesn’t sound all that appealing, and for some of our group it wasn’t, but I’m really glad I agreed to go.
After leaving London, I took the bus to San Sebastian, where I was then driven to Deba, which is located along the coast in the northern part of Spain, in the Basque country. It’s a small village halfway between San Sebastian and Bilbao, with the ocean on one side and mountains keeping it a private hide away. We spent two weeks there during which I got burnt (again),drank cider like it was going out of style (I can also now ‘throw it‘ like a pro) and celebrated the feast of San Roke. If that’s not a holiday, I don’t know what is. Continue reading