For me San Sebastian is a lost city belonging to a lost generation. While we were there I kept thinking of Hemingway and his Lady Ashley; Fitzgerald and his Nicole Diver. Had they also walked this road? Had they, in the sudden onset of a rainstorm, ducked into a cafe and sat with a cappucino as I was? Which beaches had they loved the best, which narrow streets, which bars? It was impossible for me to forget this city's history. This was no doubt reinforced by the cloudy October day, which made the beaches appear faded and inhospitable, the buildings damp and dirty. But we liked it. Instead of glamorous expats there were fishermen at the harbor; instead of exciting nights there was a slow day; and of course, the pintxos in the Basque capital were great.