9/19/26: San Sebastián's Basque Museum

After a magical time exploring San Sebastián's pintxos bars and celebrated churches earlier in the day, a different dose of Basque culture called for a visit to the city's Museum of San Telmo, the largest of its kind in Spain. Like the smaller Basque museum Steven and I had swung by in Bilbao, it was located in a former 16th-century Dominican convent and its peaceful cloister.

The temporary exhibition gallery featured The Disasters of War (1810-1823), eighty prints by Francisco de Goya about the bloody events of the Napoleonic occupation of Spain from 1808 to 1814. However, instead of being regarded as a historical set piece, the explosive images have become a milestone in the history of violence and suffering, and presage more recent examples of man's inhumanity to man.

When the war began, Goya was already known for his popular scenes, as a royal painter and portraitist. But he was shocked by the brutality of the events and expressed himself in increasingly bold ways. We've all seen images of great battles and heroic deeds, but Goya depicted the anarchy and atrocities that occurred on the sidelines of combat, faced by nameless, everyday people. They reflected the worst of the human condition and the absence of morality in extreme circumstances.

He created the series on his own initiative, almost in secret. Realizing the period's absolute repression, he kept the series hidden until his death in 1863, when it came to light and received its final title. 

The gallery's accompanying commentary encouraged viewers to consider that Goya was asking us to keep looking at the unspeakable tragedies when we would prefer to look away. Think of it as the ethics of a witness and contemplating the pain of others.

About 600 women and children died just in the siege of Zaragoza, and Goya brought to light the civilians' desire to fight, the moments of insurgency at the height of the struggle. We could feel the fierce onslaughts, the energy, fury, and panic.

People died in agony, and corpses were tossed into the street, stacked in piles beside churches, in piles like straw dolls, as the French banned burials. Human forms were lost as they merged with the earth, decomposed, and remained unburied for a long time. Goya showed that period cloaked in darkness.

Goya's series juxtaposed with Iberia, a large abstract canvas by American expressionist Robert Motherwell, painted after his 1958 trip to Spain, when he was profoundly moved by what he found in Goya's Black Paintings. I found it hard, though, to wrap my head around the sharp contrast with the explicit violence in Goya's living narrative and the abstract contemplation of Motherwell's painting. I had to stretch my mind to see any connection beyond the black ink and black oil paint the artists used. 

Motherwell was inspired by the hidden violence and the grim reality of the Franco dictatorship. To him, black symbolized war's tragic condition. Goya expressed the vividness of war in his famous phrase about his war series: "I saw it." Mothwell seemed to say, "You have to be here." 

I was never so glad to get out in the open of the cloister, see the bright blue sky, and feel the sun's warmth after that death and darkness.

Then it was back inside, to the church's monumental space in the original convent, to view The Sert Canvases, eleven exceptional varnish-on-metal paintings by Spanish artist José María Sert, 1874-1945. When the building was restored in 1929, and the convent was considered for repurposing as a museum, it was recommended that the church walls be covered with paintings of the most important events in Basque history. Sert was commissioned to represent the life and history of its people.

To get just a sense of the paintings' magnitude and celebration of the Basques, click on the images to enlarge them!

A People of Wisdom showed one of the most significant moments in Basque history: the Real Sociedad Bascongade de Amigos del Pais, or the Basque Society of Friends of the Country, Spain's first enlightened society. The image showed scientists conducting research, and chemists discussing a product.

The A People of Explorers canvas was dedicated to the epic poem by Basque native Juan Sebastián Elcano, and illustrated the dramatic moments explorers went through. 

We had never seen a people's history detailed in art, let alone on such a grand scale. Other equally spellbinding canvases portrayed Basque shipowners, fishermen, merchants, saints, and blacksmiths. 

We couldn't forget the space had been a former church with the tomb and former confessionals.

The Traces of Spirituality Gallery featured stelae, or funerary markers, as the Basque people have held rites revolving around ancestor worship for centuries. Stelae in cemeteries, funeral candle holders, and along paths have continued to the present day.

Some carvings included the name of the deceased with a reference to the family crest or home to symbolize the connection between home and grave.

Memory Traces: Although the oldest evidence of human presence in the Basque Country dates to more than 150,000 years ago, to the Lower Paleolithic Period, most prolific remains come from later prehistoric eras. UNESCO has declared some cave paintings in the Basque region to be World Heritage Sites.

Images from the gallery:

Examples of 17th-century iron aldaba, or doorknockers and trim:

A necklace from the Upper Paleolithic Period was believed to reveal an aesthetic sentiment!

The Tithe Chest: During the Middle Ages, only the church guaranteed both temporary and eternal protection, with peasants providing one tenth, or diezmo, of their farming and livestock to the clergy. 

These most unusual long-pronged pitchforks were more practical on slopes and suited the wet, Atlantic soil. 

Cloth headdresses worn by married and widowed women in the Basque Country indicated not only their marital status, but also their place of origin and economic status. After they were interpreted as phallic symbols in the early 17th century, ecclesiastical authorities banned them!

The Spanish Civil War was experienced differently in the Basque Country than in the rest of Spain because it was mainly seen as a war between Catholics with different political beliefs. That was accentuated when the Spanish Basque region was further divided into two distinct areas.

José Luis Zumeta’s portrayal of a tree trunk around 1976 formed the basis of a poster, 24 Hours in Basque, for the first time after it was in a private collection.

Basque society began a rapid period of modernization in the 1980s, marked by changes in gender roles, demographic trends, and secularization. These changes became more pronounced in the 1990s.

On the right were chisteras, or woven wicker baskets used in Basque pelota, one of the fastest ball games in the world, with record speeds exceeding 300 km/h! Players hit a ball against a wall or across a net/line using their bare hand, a wooden paddle, a racket, or a chistera. In the U.S., pelota is known as jai alai.

Without a doubt, the Sert canvases were the highlight of the museum for me, though the disturbing Goya engravings came in a very close second.

In the previous post on San Sebastián, I mentioned that its doors weren't as attention-grabbing as many in Bilbao, our first stop in Spain's Basque Country. However, these two doors did make me stop and look twice!

After a full and very fun day in San Sebastián, we crossed back over the city's lovely Maria Christina Bridge to pick up our bags at the bus station and go to our apartment.

Next post: A treat in store - another side of San Sebastián!

Posted on October 26, 2026, from El Jadida on Morocco's central Atlantic coast, in between the tourist hotspots of Marrakesh and Casablanca. Please take care of yourself and your loved ones.

9/19/26: Spanish Basque's San Sebastián & its Pintxos!

Some background on the Basque Country: Seven Basque territories straddle Spain and France, extending about 160 km along the Atlantic Coast from Bilbao in northwest Spain north to Bayonne in southwest France. The two countries' Basque people share a cuisine, a green, red, and white flag, and the Euskara language, spoken by about half a million people. Euskara, related to no other surviving tongue, has been used since Neolithic times and is likely the oldest still-spoken European language. More Euskara is spoken in the four Spanish provinces, known as El País Vasco, than in the three relatively assimilated French Pays Basque regions. Effectively, everyone also speaks their native Spanish and/or French.

Although the French and Spanish Basque people were consolidated into their respective homelands, it was sometimes done forcibly. French Basque ideas of independence were crushed by the French Revolution, and Spain's fascist dictator, Generalissimo Franco, sought to tame his separatist-minded Basques. Over the last few generations, many changes have occurred, with the Euskara language experiencing a revival, people feeling more united, and the former heavily industrialized region undergoing an exciting 21st-century rebirth. Bilbao's iconic Guggenheim Museum, built on an industrial wasteland, anchors a striking skyline, and the dazzling resorts in San Sebastián lure enthusiastic crowds.

Steven and I took an hour-long bus ride from Bilbao to San Sebastián, also known as Donostia in Euskara. After dumping our bags in the station's lockers, we set out to explore! Almost as soon as we spotted the lovely María Cristina Bridge spanning the Urumea River by the station, we knew we'd love this place!

The classic stone water fountain located along the Paseo de Francia:

Shots of the Plaza de Bilbao:

We didn't realize that when we planned the trip that the ninth edition of the San Sebastián Circuit Spirit was also taking place. We were treated to the roar of Porsches, Corvettes, and other high-end cars revving their engines as they raced down the street beside us!

Ahead of us was a pedestrian street leading toward the Neo-Gothic Catedral del Buen Pastor, or Cathedral of the Good Shepherd.

A stream of snazzy cars lined up by the historic Hotel Palacio Bellas Artes San Sebastián:

En route to the Old Town, we walked through the Amara neighborhood and unintentionally passed a block that saw heavy fighting in 1936 during the Spanish Civil War. Military rebels tried to capture Donostia, but the popular militias repelled them. Evidence of the war's toll on building facades was still visible 90 years later.

I don't recall seeing any US post offices as grand as the Edificio de Correos in San Sebastián.

We first reached the apse and rear architecture of the Neo-Gothic-style basilica, built between 1887 and 1893, and which contained seating for 4,000 people. The 76-meter-high spire was visible from anywhere in the city.

Click on the photo of the lovely altar to view the details more clearly.

The candle was lit permanently for vocations.

I liked how the intricate stained-glass windows cast reflections, so it appeared like they were dancing on the surrounding walls.

We hadn't yet seen much of San Sebastián, but apart from this one, its doors were a poor second compared to those in Bilbao.

I don't know if so many of the streets were always pedestrianized or if it was because it was Saturday. What a delight to walk along them and admire the classical architecture and the smartly dressed people.

An unexpected treat in the heart of the city was the peaceful Plaza Gizupka, an iconic, romantic green square, designed in 1877 by a French landscape architect to resemble a small English wood. A unique stone temple-shaped meteorological station was added in 1879.

We had heard of Basque cheesecakes before, but before our arrival we had no idea of their popularity. It felt like there was a bakery on every corner that displayed the traditional dessert.

Ok, yes, here was another doorway that caught our eye!

The grand San Sebastián City Hall opened in 1887 as a casino during the city's Belle Époque era, then became City Hall in 1947. It overlooked manicured gardens and palm trees, with its rear facing the sandy curve of La Concha Bay. Look for that soon! 

No hardship strolling along the quaint cobbled lanes in the historic Old Town toward the Basilica de Santa Maria del Coro! It felt like we'd time-traveled to a more glamorous era with ornate facades and romantic passageways.

A funeral was taking place, so visitors to the 18th-century-Baroque style church were restricted to a roped-off area, but the interior was enough to make us want to return later.

Looking back, I thought of The Highway to Heaven, the 1984 TV show, because the cathedral and the basilica sat at opposite ends of the 'highway' we'd just walked.

I didn't quite know what to make of The Harmony of Sound installed out front.

From the church steps above the square, we saw people already lining up for the restaurant.

I read that the food scene in San Sebastián rivals any other place in the world - yes, the world! Foodies describe dining in the city as a sacred pilgrimage, with many local restaurants getting an international reputation. Pintxos, glorious, bite-sized snacks served atop crusty bread or skewered like edible art, are a way of life for locals and what lures tourists like magnets to San Sebastián. Even though no one could describe us as anything remotely close to foodies, we couldn't pass up some of the pintxos.

We knew that Casa Grandarias, down the street from the church, was famous for its solomillo, a small piece of fillet steak served on a piece of bread with a green pepper and some salt. But knowing what we wanted and ordering it on a late summer weekend was a little like survival of the fittest. The key was to elbow your way to the packed bar, point confidently, and smile at the bartender who dishes out the pintxos! The golden rule was to stand at the bar or snag a high-top table outside, or else be charged more to sit down.

By mistake, I took a picture of the Spanish menu, which described the light snack as pinchos, instead of the Euskara word, pintxos.

Edible heaven, but Steven said he could have eaten a few more!

You could easily pass the day by strolling from bar to bar, since most were on the same street within a few blocks of the basilica!

Since France was just twenty kilometers away, we heard a lot of French.

A few pintxos-filled bars later, we arrived at the Plaza de la Constitución, the old town's main square, where bullfights used to be held. Even if you owned an apartment overlooking the square, the city retained rights to the balconies, which it sold as numbered box seats.

The plaza was dominated by the ornate facade of the former town hall. Above its clock was the city's seal, which depicted a merchant ship with billowing sails, attesting to its importance in Spanish seafaring.

Wandering through the Mercado de las Bretxa was a fun way to better understand Basque culture. Merkatua was its name in Euskara.

One of the fresh fish stands, Baccalos Uranzu, had many different cuts of bacalao or cod. The fish was of critical importance to the evolution of European seafaring, as it could be preserved in salt to feed sailors on long trips into the North Atlantic. Cod, long popular among Catholics on Fridays, is also a Basque staple after it is soaked for 48 hours and the water is changed three times to make it edible.

Fresh black truffles were locked away, lest anyone wanted to escape with the tasty morsels that cost a princely €610 per kilo.

Sufficiently fortified, we returned to the Basilica, which had reopened. Steven quipped that the entry fee was well worth every cent, just to finally sit down! How nice to see signs in several languages welcoming people to the church. Those are far too rare in our experience. On the high altar was the 16th-century Lady of the Cross, the city's patron saint.

The image was the ship in the city's coat of arms.

The 18th-century St. Pius V altar depicted one of the saint's miracles, with Christ moving his feet to prevent the saint from dying after being covered in poison.

The twin St. Barbara altar, on the other side of the high altar, attested to the city's close connection to the church, as the saint was the patron saint of the artillery.

The St. Peter altarpiece, commissioned by the Fishermen's Guild, also held a close connection to the sea.

Another lovely altarpiece depicted the Holy Family in the central niche.

We had only rarely come across the Eye of Providence, also known as the All-Seeing Eye of God.

The Lady of Solitude altarpiece:

At the base of the altar was a Lying Christ.

Though San Sebastián no longer holds major Easter processions, the Descent from the Cross and Lady of Solitude used to appear in religious processions.

The adjoining Santa Maria Nave served as the repository for the church's extensive art collection through the ages. We gravitated toward pieces from the Medieval period.

The modern period was also represented.

The restaurant across from the church had no empty tables when we left!

The 2013 bronze sculpture honored women who worked to rebuild San Sebastián stone by stone after the devastating fire and destruction of 1813, following the Napoleonic Wars.

Next post: A last look at Basque culture.

Posted on October 23rd, 2026, from Essaouira on Morocco's west coast after renting a car in Marrakesh this morning to explore a good chunk of the country over the next three weeks. Please take care of yourself and your loved ones.