A night on the beach in Spain – one of the best moments of my life

One of the best moments of my life was lying on a beach in Santander in Spain with my two friends while listening to the waves and staring up at the stars in the clear night sky.

It was so late that the beach cleaning truck was making its rounds preparing the beach for the next day. We had just come from a late dinner at a beachside restaurant just a few metres from where we lay. It was still filled with patrons in no rush to leave.

There was a wine bar further down the beach playing loud music to a young excited crowd but that didn’t phase us or the people around us. We’d had a lovely meal, lots of wine, great company and conversation. We were super chilled and could have happily lain there all night listening to the waves and savouring the cooling sand on our backs.

Here I was, this black girl miles away from home with my two white friends surrounded by a predominantly white crowd and I had never felt so content and at peace. It was just a moment but a perfect moment.

This was the first leg of our holiday which had started in Barcelona. We had booked into a small hostel which has turned out to be rather OK. As you can imagine, it was basic but the staff were friendly and welcoming. During our time there we walked down La Ramblas and visited the Gaudi buildings that seemed destined to never be finished. I hadn’t known what to expect when we went to see it but we found a noisy building site so I left underwhelmed and unimpressed.

After a few beers, I expressed that opinion to a group of guys we were playing pool with at a second-floor bar in La Ramblas. One of them promptly told me that he was one of the architects working on the Gaudi building construction. An awkward moment.

That didn’t ruin our night though, mostly because we were too drunk to care. We had a fabulous time then walked back to the hostel to pack up for our next journey.

We travelled to Bilbao for a short stay and arrived at midday in scorching 41-degree sunshine and a deserted city. We were very hot, tired and starving but everything was closed. After checking into our new hostel we walked around the city hunting for food from one closed restaurant to the next. One of my friends who did not function well on an empty stomach got grumpier and grumpier.

As these things happen, just as we reached boiling point – in every sense – we stumbled upon an open restaurant. All we got was awful pasta, olives, prosciutto and stale bread but we made do. Refuelled and rested we made our way to the Guggenheim museum. I am ashamed to say I don’t remember much about the art but the architecture of the building was spectacular. I have not seen anything that tops that since.

The next day we hopped on another train to the next city we were visiting, San Sabastian which was a beautiful perfect seaside town. Perfect except for the problem of the Basque separatists that we hadn’t expected. There were heated demonstrations taking place every week and we were advised to stay clear of them. This turned out to be easier said than done as our hostel, we discovered, was located on one of the streets the demonstrations went through.

Despite all of that, we enjoyed our time in San Sabastian. It really was a perfectly picturesque town with white sandy beaches. I got to swim in the sea for the first time, diving down near the shore to see all the tiny sea creatures. At one point my friend and I lay on our backs to float for a while and enjoy the paradoxical feeling of the cold water on our backs and the baking sun on our fronts. It was pleasant and soothing. So soothing in fact that we found we have drifted out to the sea.

As I couldn’t actually tread water this caused a moment of panic. Luckily my friend stayed calm and swam closer to shore to a point where she could stand then guided me to her. I was so relieved. It didn’t affect our swim though. We carried on for a little while longer.

The next day we travelled to our final destination, Santander, where I had my perfect moment on the beach. We travelled back to Barcelona on a sleeper train. A first for me which felt like I was in an Agatha Christie movie. It felt surreal sleeping in a tinny bunk bed while the train sped on. It was hard to sleep though with all the rattling so we woke up early and had a shower. Yes, a shower on a train. It was just as well because just as we finished getting dressed the train pulled into the station with the shower facing the platform. That would have raised a few eyebrows.

We stored our luggage at the train station while we waited for our time to head off to the airport. We spent half a day exploring parts of Barcelona we had not seen then eventually caught our train to the airport.

It’s been such a long time since that holiday that I barely remember the journey back home. However, I do remember that trip being one of my most enjoyable holidays. It was not extraordinary and some of the detail has faded, but it was perfect in its simplicity.