Well, it's only been about forty years.
I don't remember much, other than the beach and the Heath Robinson mansion on the cliff.
It is exciting to be here. The tourist season hasn't yet got into full swing, but the footpaths are crowded.
A surfer in a wetsuit peeled down to his waist is skateboarding the wrong way on a one-way street.
An immaculately dressed aristocratic couple go into a chocolate shop. A man lets me pat his young Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, the happiest of dogs.
Children are eating ice-cream. A stream of people enter and emerge from a tiny Patisserie Boulangerie at the end of our street. The sign at the front says it's been in the same family since 1910. It must be very good.
We reconnoitre a seafood restaurant down at the old port. We'll go there tonight.
We climb back up rough stone stairs that bring us to the foot of a grand cathedral, where worshippers are celebrating Easter.
Tomorrow we head across the Spanish border to San Sebastian.
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