Passover in Spain with Jesus

After touring northern Spain for 10 days during the Christian Holy Week, we returned to Israel with an in-flight Kosher meal — matzoh included — and a greeting of “Happy Passover” from the pilot when we landed. Ah, it’s good to be home.

Tomorrow, I move into a dormitory in Tel Aviv, where I will be interning for the Peres Peace Center, a co-existence organization that unites Israeli Jews and Arabs, both young and old, through outlets such as co-religious sport teams and business collaborations. My program and internship finish in the end of June. After that, I am open to suggestions as far as what to do with my life.

But let us jump back a couple weeks to April 3, when I left Israel with two male friends from my volunteer program in Israel. I was the trip ringleader, so anything that was a success was to my credit and anything that went wrong (see below) was also my fault. I was traveling with one of the most cynical people I know, so I knew I was in for some tongue lashing.

The vacation spot I chose, based mainly on a cheap flight I found ($250 round trip to Madrid), was northern Spain with a couple days in Madrid to round out the trip.

Religious men during a Holy Week procession.

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I planned everything down to the cities to visit, sights to see, accommodations, modes of transportation, a car rental, bus schedules, etc. However, as the popular adage foretells, my best-laid plans went awry and so did the trust in me of my two fellow travelers. But to ensure these mishaps did not befall me in vain, here are some tips for prospective travelers of northern Spain.

SUGGESTION #1: READ PEPECAR’S TERMS OF AGREEMENT BEFORE RENTING A CAR FROM THEM FOR THREE DAYS.

Back story:

It was Day 4 of our trip, which was supposed to commence with a car rental in San Sebastian and subsequent visits to a nearby fishing village in France, a hike up the French Pyrenees and a stopover in a Spanish fishing village on the Bay of Biscay. 

We pushed open the office door, bright-eyed and excited for our driving adventures. The car rental man asks me where I plan to go. I tell him France. He tells me no and points to rule #2 on the terms of agreement. NO CROSSING INTO FRANCE.  I am a bit chagrined but not deterred. I have a backup itinerary. We sign the papers and head to the garage.

He gets the car and pulls it out onto the street and motions me to hop in the car so he can show where all the buttons and gadgets and how they work. I look in between our two seats and see what looks like a stick shift. I ask him, “This is an automatic, right?” He answers no, explaining to me that all their cars are manual, which I would have known had I read the terms of agreement. (In my defense, these terms are written in Spanish.) I turn to my traveling partners and ask if they have ever driven a stick shift. The answers are a resounding no, which also sums up my experience with manual cars. Avi, the bravest among us, volunteers to give it a shot. We had collision insurance but no health insurance, so as long as the car snapped in half and not our necks, we would be okay.

After a 5-minute “how to drive stick shift” verbal overview by the Spanish car rental man who spoke mediocre English, Avi rolled on the city street. (The first few tries failed because we forget to release the emergency brake). I should add that it was pouring rain at this point.

We came to a red light a few meters from where we left. We tried to remember the tips: Feet on the brake and clutch while stopped. The light turned green. Take foot off brake and place on accelerator. Simultaneously, give car gas and ease of clutch. First attempt by new driver: stall-out in middle of street. As frustrated drivers honked their horns, I consoled Avi from the passenger seat, telling him that we do not care about these impatient, callous San Sebastian drivers. “You are doing fine,” I added in a soothing tone.

Being the only Jews within a 100-mile radius, God was able to track us down quickly and bless Avi with newfound driving skills, which he used to propel us out of San Sebastian, albeit with a few more stall-outs and disgruntled honks.

SUGGESTION #2: VISIT NORTHERN SPAIN BUT DO NOT NECESSARILY EMPLOY ME AS A TRIP PLANNER

San Sebastian is gorgeous. It is a city in northeastern Spain of about 180,000 nestled in between the Pyrenees Mountains and pushed up against the shores of the Bay of Biscay. It boasts an old city that is packed with small bars that serve its renown cuisine, including “pintxos,” the northern Spanish version of tapas, that the bartenders place neatly along the bar like a mini-buffet. At night, the streets fill with young barhoppers who drink and eat until 4 a.m.  

The city is also flanked by two small mountains, where visitors can hike up to amazing views of the beaches and surrounding Pyrenees mountains.

Renting the car freed us up to spend two nights in a casa rural, which was located in the verdant hills of the Aralar Mountains. Families who live in century-old farmhouses have converted parts of their home into a bed and breakfast, where travelers can stay, eat and experience briefly what it is like to live in this scenic landscape.

From there, we hiked up a mountain called Txindoxi and the next day took a two-hour drive to the heart of the Spanish wine-making industry. We took a tour of the Marquis de Riscal winery in Spanish because we were an hour late for the English. Blame the navigator/me.

After a few days with the car, we returned it without a scratch to San Sebastian. (Another one of the company’s rules: renters must return car to same location.) We then took a bus to Bilbao, where we visited the Guggenheim Museum and explored a bit of the old city, where we were greeted with religious processions for the Holy Week. We also caught a procession, where KKK-looking men carry around the streets sculptures of Jesus Christ or the Virgin Mary, in a small town called Haro in La Rioja, Spain, a region where the wineries are.

We capped our trip in Madrid, where we went to El Museo del Prado, El Museo De La Reina Sofia, and strolled around the city among the plethora of fellow tourists. 

Thanks for reading!