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Patrick Ross was the most interesting of my various, all to brief aquaintences. A burnt-out violin prodigy , with an oversized goatee. He teaches music in Vermont, and is, from my observations a borderline alcoholic. He disapeared sometime on a friday night, after babbling drunkenly in french canadian (which he speaks fluently) for an hour. As expected, I didn´t see him again.

Euskal Herreria

James Taylor
2006-08-23 12:34:20

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In the afternoons I wandered, lapping up the natural beauty of the place.

I stayed in a charming little hostel called "Olga's Place"; though to call it a youth hostel is an injustice. For three days I felt like I was staying with long-lost-relatives. Olga and Rapheal (her boyfriend) spoke no english, but this proved to be of little consequence. They were warm and friendly, and went to great lenghts to make sure everyone who stayed there enjoyed themselves. Ten minutes after I arrived, I was offered a plate of the most fantastic Paella I've ever tasted. There was enough for the family and plenty more to go around. I contributed two euros as payment for the ingredients, but would have payed thirty in a restaurant.

Around this time I met Nick. He was a person of confused nationality. Born in South Africa, he spent his first ten years in America, but now lives in Sydney.

His ambition is to start a record label, and, unlike many of my generation who have similar vague aspirations, he seems like he may actually achieve it. He studied Business at University and his Father used to run a world music label, so he has the background and the knowledge. He was as much of a musical snob as me and, suaprisinlgy for an Australian he was a big football fan. So far, he is the person I have connected with most on this trip, and I would have liked to have spent some more time with him. Maybe I´ll see hin again, but I doubt it.

On my first night I was out with some Australians I had met We were drinking in an almost empty bar located somewhere amongst the tangled alleys of the old town. An abnormally skinny gentleman with wild eyes tried to speak to us, but we soon realised this was impossible. He was drunk and spoke no English, but he persisted, much to our initial amusment and growing discomfort. One of the Australians remarked, jokingly, that he seemed to resemble the devil. Despite his lack of English, he seemed to understand, ...