A tale of two cities – Jerez v. San Sebastian

"You'll struggle down south – their accent is really difficult to understand."

This from a San Sebastian local a few months ago when we told him about our impending move to Jerez, at the opposite end of the country. It didn't seem the time or place to point out the flaw in his logic, which is that we don't understand people in San Sebastian either.

But if we're not going to understand someone I'd rather not understand them in as comfortable an environment as possible, and for us, it's Jerez. 

That's not to say that after one whole month of living here we've concluded that we like the southern city more than the northern. Far from it – there are already things we miss about that Basque wonderland: the beaches, the exquisite pintxos, the mountain biking, and of course the great friends we've left behind. 

But there's one key element to the lifestyle here in Jerez that suits us better: there's more space. 

In San Sebastian, on all but the quietest times of the week/month/year it's wise to plan ahead come dinner time. If you decide you'd like the volcan at Itxaropena or the solomillo at Parilla Chuleta, you'd better damn well arrive there some time between opening time and three minutes past opening time if you want to have somewhere to sit. It's a busy town. The bars are small. And there are tourists there virtually year round. Missing out on our first choice of dinner venue was par for the course. That wasn't too much of a problem for us because we had a dozen alternatives up our sleeves, but it was an ever-present mild annoyance.  

In Jerez, come 9 pm even the toddlers aren't hungry yet. It's a carryover from the fact that for much of the year it's really hot outside and people retreat indoors during the uncomfortable time of the day (and while the stereotypical notion of siesta in Spain isn't really a thing, down here in the south I get the impression that it's really a thing). So at 9 pm you can wander around in the yellow dusk and take your pick of places to eat because the locals are still waking up. By 11 the plazas and every narrow alleyway bar are humming with life – but even at that late hour it's still easy to find somewhere good to eat, provided you're still upright. 

Weekends and holidays are a different story, naturally. Some nights you can't move for the hordes of yahoo-istas clapping and stomping and otherwise flamenco-ing through the city, many of them with a dog and a pram in tow, or indeed being towed by an old lady in an electric wheelchair. No problem, there are quite a few joints here that have online booking, so often we play it safe and take the easy route. (I've started building an interactive map of our favourite places with a layer that displays the ones you can book online.) 

But generally we enjoy easy access to dozens of terrific bars and restaurants within a few minutes' walk of our place. The density of eateries isn’t quite so high as it is in San Sebastian, but what Jerez lacks in sheer number it makes up for in chill. 

It's a similar story with the streets in general. Fewer people, more space, less old-lady dodging (I've posted before on the habit of old Spanish ladies to not give an inch when passing by, which has led to more than one accidental hip-and-shoulder event). In San Sebastian, shopping is number one. It means that people aren't merely walking to get somewhere – they're browsing, bouncing along from one shop to the next based on what catches their eye, at vastly differing paces. The result is that there's no predictable flow of bodies. This, combined with relatively low consideration for personal space among tourists and the Spanish in general, means you're liable to be struck at any time from any direction with an unpredictable force by someone on their phone trying to find that awesome sock shop they heard about on Instagram. We A-to-Bers just trying to get to our chosen restaurant by opening time have to be on our toes. 

In Jerez, the biggest ambulatory hassle you can experience is having to get out of the way of a horse and buggy, though admittedly the hip-and-shoulder thing carries far worse consequences.