Keys in the Door

We stayed at’s #1 pension in San Sebastian, owned by mother Carmen and daughter Leire. We spent most of the stay trying to teach Sherpa to pronounce her name. I said it’s like “layaway” but with the “w” replaced by a flipped “r.”

Anyway, San Sebastian was very lovely; we walked on the beach even though it was near freezing. There were staid old folks getting into the ocean so we couldn’t be wusses.

Leire was SO sweet and told us all her “secrets” about her hotel and the people who have stayed there, including famous cyclists and some Kennedys. When we got back from dinner on night #2, she had some other guests trapped in a conversation and we got caught, too. We stood in the lobby with her and the other two guests and chatted for a LONG time about everything- work, travel, Spain, the history of the hotel, Leire’s Granadian boyfriend, the fact that she lived in Binghamton for college, etc. her English was great and she talked FAST. We asked the two other spaniards if her Spanish was even faster and they were very amused and said yes. We finally peeled away to bed, and in the morning both the Spaniards and we found that we had left our keys in the door. First time in 8.5 years that ANYONE had done it at all, said Leire.


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