From across a wet cobblestone street at two hours to midnight, a few steps past the regal Maria Cristina Hotel in San Sebastian, a wiry man in thick-rimmed glasses whistles at me. He is  leaning against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette. Bendur Elizondo is a chef I’d met the night before, and he’s motioning for me to follow him to a nondescript door in a long building a block from the Urumea River. The only clue that we’re headed someplace special is a small plaque to the left of the door that reads, “Sociedad Los Corcones, 1982.” I follow him, clamber down a dingy staircase, and suddenly, I’m in a world from which women once were forbidden.

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