Pintxos bar

There are so many of them and they're all inviting.

We picked one where we could sit down. Most patrons stood at or near the bar.

Platters of delicacies are lined up along the counter at the end of which a forearm carved in bronze is pouring a bottle.

At the back of the place, we savour our pintxos and drink our wine, strong, full-bodied Spanish red.

An elderly couple take a table next to us. They are in their seventies, or maybe older. She is well-dressed and wears expensive jewellery. He is a short, thin man with close cropped silver hair and a ruddy complexion.

His kind eyes glisten as he leans over to introduce himself. He tells us this is one of the oldest pintxos bars in San Sebastian. He knows the owner. He asks where we are from. He tells us he once lived and worked in the United States.

His wife doesn't speak, she smiles.

He asks what we think of Donestia, the Basque name for San Sebastian. He is well pleased with our response.

As we get up to leave, he clutches my hand in a strong, warm grip and like a true Basque gentleman, he kisses the back of Cliona's hand.

He welcomes us to his city and wishes us the best of times.

His warmth and sincerity are touching.

These bars are such joyful places. Couples bring their children here. People laugh and banter and make new friends across tables.

You don't see a lonely soul, or a solitary drinker drowning his sorrows.

These bars are a stand-out attraction, here, in this wonderful city.