Beyond Pintxos: Uncovering San Sebastian's Hidden Urban Treasures on Foot

Most visitors to San Sebastian climb Mount Urgull or Igueldo for panoramic views, but the eastern path along Mount Ulia offers a tranquil alternative that showcases the city's commitment to preserving natural spaces within urban boundaries.

On my second morning in San Sebastian, I set out from Gros neighborhood with a small daypack containing water, a light snack, and my compact binoculars which proved invaluable for spotting seabirds along the coastal cliffs. The trailhead begins near Sagüés at the eastern end of Zurriola Beach, marked by unassuming stone steps that ascend into a surprisingly lush microclimate.

What makes this route special is how it balances natural conservation with accessibility. The Basque government has maintained these historic paths—once used by lookouts watching for whaling opportunities—without over-developing them. About 40 minutes into the hike, you'll discover the abandoned Ulia amusement park, where nature has reclaimed early 20th-century structures in a hauntingly beautiful display of urban rewilding.

Continue another 30 minutes to reach a series of viewpoints offering perspectives of the coastline that few tourists ever witness. The path eventually connects to the Camino de Santiago's northern route, a reminder of the region's ancient pilgrimage traditions that predate modern tourism by centuries.

What struck me most was the careful balance between access and preservation. Unlike many European destinations where natural areas near cities become overly manicured, Ulia maintains its wild character while still being approachable for average walkers. This exemplifies the Basque approach to sustainability—finding harmony between human enjoyment and environmental protection.

While tourists crowd the Old Town (Parte Vieja), locals often retreat to Antiguo, the city's original settlement that maintains a village-like atmosphere despite being just a 15-minute walk from the center. This western neighborhood offers an authentic glimpse into everyday Basque life that feels remarkably preserved.

I discovered Antiguo during my first visit to San Sebastian five years ago when seeking alternatives to the mainstream tourist experience. What keeps drawing me back is how the neighborhood embodies the Japanese concept of satoyama—the harmonious border zone where human settlement and nature coexist. This balance is particularly evident in Antiguo's thoughtful urban planning, where narrow streets prioritize pedestrians and small plazas create natural gathering spaces.

Start your exploration at Plaza del Funicular, named for the historic hillside tram that once connected this area to Monte Igueldo. From there, wander the grid of residential streets where you'll find neighborhood bakeries producing traditional opillas (round breads) using methods unchanged for generations. The Matia Kalea shopping street offers a glimpse of authentic local commerce, with specialty shops where proprietors still know customers by name.

For lunch, skip the tourist-oriented pintxos bars and seek out one of the neighborhood sociedades gastronómicas (gastronomic societies) that occasionally open to the public for lunch. These member-owned cooking clubs are the true heart of Basque culinary tradition, where recipes are passed down through generations. While most require a member invitation, Kandela on Calle Miracruz sometimes welcomes visitors for their midday menu.

The neighborhood culminates at Ondarreta Beach, the least crowded of San Sebastian's three main beaches. Here, local families gather on weekends, creating a community atmosphere that feels worlds away from the international scene at La Concha.

San Sebastian's dramatic topography has created a necessity that became an architectural feature: an extensive network of urban staircases connecting different elevation levels throughout the city. These stairs form a pedestrian infrastructure system that predates modern urban planning but functions remarkably well as a sustainable transportation network.

I've mapped over 30 significant public staircases during my visits, many dating back centuries. What fascinates me from a supply chain perspective is how these vertical pathways create efficient human movement patterns that modern city planners often fail to replicate. They represent a form of indigenous knowledge—solutions developed over generations in response to specific geographical challenges.

Begin your staircase exploration at the Aldapeta stairs behind San Vicente Church, which connect the Old Town to the residential hills above through a series of 120 steps interspersed with landings and gardens. Unlike tourist-focused areas, these stairs remain primarily used by residents, offering glimpses into local life as you ascend.

The most photogenic route is undoubtedly the Miraconcha stairs, which zigzag up from Ondarreta Beach to the hillside mansions above. These grand staircases feature ornate railings and carefully positioned viewpoints that frame the bay perfectly. I recommend climbing them at sunset when the golden light transforms the white stone.

For those seeking a more challenging route, the Aldakoenea stairs in Gros neighborhood feature over 200 steps in a near-continuous climb. I track my walks using my fitness tracker which has proven invaluable for mapping these vertical routes while monitoring elevation gain. The solar charging feature means I never worry about battery life during long days of exploration.

Beyond their practical function, these staircases reveal San Sebastian's socioeconomic layers—often connecting working-class neighborhoods with more affluent areas higher up. They serve as democratic spaces where different segments of society naturally intermingle, creating the kind of social sustainability that many modern urban developments struggle to achieve.

While San Sebastian's pintxos bars receive endless international attention, I've found that the true pulse of Basque food culture beats strongest at La Bretxa Market. This historic market in the Old Town basement level has operated since 1870 and offers a window into the supply chains that make San Sebastian's culinary scene possible.

What makes La Bretxa special is its dual nature: the upper level has evolved to accommodate tourists, but descend the stairs to the basement floor and you enter the authentic market where local chefs and home cooks source their ingredients. The contrast between these two worlds reveals much about how sustainable food systems adapt to tourism pressure without losing their core function.

I recommend arriving early, around 8:30am, when fishmongers display the morning's catch and farmers arrange produce harvested just hours earlier. The market follows seasonal rhythms that have largely disappeared from modern food supply chains—in fall, you'll find an abundance of wild mushrooms, chestnuts, and the first cider apples that are central to Basque culinary traditions.

During my last visit, I brought my reusable produce bags which drew appreciative nods from vendors accustomed to sustainability-minded locals. These lightweight mesh bags are perfect for collecting market purchases while avoiding single-use plastics, and they fold down to almost nothing in my daypack.

Beyond shopping, La Bretxa offers opportunities for meaningful cultural exchange. Many vendors come from families that have worked these stalls for generations, and while they may not speak English, showing interest in their products often leads to warm interactions. I've found that learning just a few Basque phrases (not Spanish) opens doors to conversations about food traditions that tourists rarely experience.

The most revealing aspect of La Bretxa is how it demonstrates the short supply chains that define Basque cuisine. Products rarely travel more than 50 kilometers to reach these stalls, creating a food system with minimal environmental impact that maximizes freshness and flavor—principles I've advocated for throughout my supply chain career.

San Sebastian's commitment to sustainable urban development is perhaps best exemplified by Tabakalera, a massive former tobacco factory transformed into a contemporary cultural center. This adaptive reuse project represents exactly the kind of thoughtful repurposing that cities worldwide should emulate—preserving industrial heritage while creating new public spaces that serve current community needs.

Located in the Egia neighborhood just across the Urumea River from the Old Town, Tabakalera's imposing brick façade hints at its industrial past, but inside lies a marvel of modern architectural intervention. What impresses me most is how the renovation maintained original structural elements while introducing contemporary spaces flooded with natural light.

Beyond the expected exhibition halls, Tabakalera houses a fascinating mix of public resources: free co-working spaces, a specialized art library, experimental film theaters, and creative studios where local artists work in residence. This multifunctional approach ensures the building serves diverse community needs rather than becoming yet another tourist-only attraction.

The rooftop terrace offers my favorite alternative viewpoint of San Sebastian, with panoramas extending from Monte Urgull to the river mouth. Unlike the crowded viewpoints on the main hills, this elevated urban space remains primarily used by locals, particularly at sunset when residents gather for the spectacular light show over the bay.

For those interested in sustainable urban design, Tabakalera's renovation incorporated numerous environmental features including rainwater harvesting systems, energy-efficient climate control that works with the building's thermal mass, and preservation of original materials wherever possible. It exemplifies the Japanese concept of mottainai—the recognition that resources are too valuable to waste.

During my visits, I've documented how the space changes throughout the day, capturing images with my compact camera, which handles the challenging light conditions inside the industrial space beautifully. Its small size makes it ideal for unobtrusive urban photography while delivering professional-quality images.