Bilbao

We left Barcelona on an uncharacteristically overcast morning. We set out at 9:00, but it took us about 45 minutes to find our way to the highway. Our GPS lady is fond of using terminology like "half right" and referring to distances in meters, as in "Please make a half right in 800 meters." Since I have no idea what 800 meters even remotely looks like, and when there is a half right involved at the end of those 800 meters, we spend a lot of time making u turns and going around the block.

The drive to Bilbao started with the top down. We were optimistic that we would meet sun somewhere. But, about 2 hours in, it started to rain a bit, so we put the top up. It was at that point that the temperature began to precipitously drop. We went from 27 in Barcelona to 17 at some point about 2 hours before Bilbao, in the mountains of Basque country.

I would like to make a quick aside here about the bleak and desolate landscape of Northern Spain east of Bilbao: GOOD GOD! Maureen at one point said, "When someone asks me what I saw this summer, I will just tell them, 'Arizona.' " And that pretty much sums up what we saw. Lots of nothing, lots of sand, lots of buttes (yes, buttes... I never thought I would ever have occasion to write that word, but there you go...) We wonder what people who live in this region must do for a living. There isn't enough agriculture to employ many, and there are NO cities to speak of. The GPS was just empty expanses of nothingness along the road. It was eerie. Thank God we didn't break down or run out of gas. We would have been sorely out of luck!

But, as we entered into Basque country, that seemed to change. The landscape turned green and lush and seemed to perk up a bit. We rolled into Bilbao at about 4 and drove straight to our hotel, the Hesperia on Passeo Campo Volantin, almost directly across from the Guggenheim. We pulled over in front of the hotel and banged the tire into the side of the curb resulting in a hard thud. I asked Maureen to check out her door. She replied that I had parked close enough to the curb, which was nice to know, however, I was more concerned about the state of the tire. Maureen got out and looked. "I am not sure... there is a hole." A HOLE?? I jumped out and sure enough there was a gash in the tire. I immediately checked the tire pressure on the tire pressure gadget in the car, and it said that the pressure was ok. So, we are hoping for the best...

We went in and checked into our room. We were told that there was an information office a short walk from the hotel, so we ventured out. In a few short minutes we had found ourselves smack in the middle of town. And what a town it is. To be sure, it is pretty, it is easy to navigate and it is friendly. Maureen struck up a conversation with an older woman with a dog, which by the way is HUGE in Blibao (dogs are everywhere, on leashes, off leashes, muzzled, unmuzzled...). She gave us some good directions and we were off again. At this point, sitting in a cervezeria, it occurred to us that there was something a little off about the people of Bilbao. They are not a pretty people, by any stretch of the imagination. There is something a bit inbred looking about them. Now, that is not a snarky comment nor is it meant to offend anyone. I am just stating a fact that there is something a little Appalacian about the population here.

We wandered a bit further to the Placa Nueva, where we ate a scrumptious dinner of local tapas served by the most extraordinarily mulleted youth I have ever seen. He was sweet, however, and kept calling us 'chicas' and even offered us shots on the house at the end of our meal. I passed on the shots, but I do regret it a little as I would like to have seen what sort of shots he would have brought two old broads from America on vacation...

The next day, we arose and got on the 12 o'clock bus touristic, which actually is the 12:15 bus touristic, because punctuality is not really a priority here in the Basque Country. The tour was interesting in that it did not provided earphones, however it piped in the commentary in several languages over the PA system. The language selection was determined by the tour operator coming around and polling the crowd as to what languages they required. I was a little surprised by the whole operation. At one point in the tour (which, by the way did not cover anything we hadn't already seen on foot the evening before), the commentary talked about a huge red crane and the fact that it was named for a beautiful woman who, when she came to the docks in the 30's, drew all the men away from their work, being the most beautiful woman any of them had ever seen. I leaned over to Maureen and whispered, "she must not have been from here." This sent us both into waves of tear-producing laughter which lasted until we heard that the next stop had a funicular which would take us to the top of a mountain. At this point, we had both had enough of the tour, and got off the bus. We walked the two blocks to the funicular station, paid our 80 cents for a ride up the hill to a most spectacular view. If you ever go to Bilbao, I highly suggest this. The panorama is amazing, you see the city and you can see the Bay of Biscay off in the distance: the best of both worlds.

No trip to Bilbao would be complete without a trip to the Guggenheim. The hotel gave us two complimentary tickets when we checked in, and we were saving them for a time when we had enough time to give it the time it deserved. The walk along the Ria de Bilbao is breathtaking only made nicer by the unseasonable cool weather. The museum has a permanent collection with the likes of Rothko (my favorite) and Beckmann, as well as Jenny Holzman, whose installation I saw in the Piazza del Duomo last year, and Beckmann. There is also a terrific exhibition of Henri Rousseau until September. It is really amazing and I am glad to have seen it. I love the dream-like paintings of jungles and secret lovers of Rousseau, a painter who died before his time. On the other hand, there was an installation of Anish Kapoor which was rather odd, and I didn't like as well. There was set up in a gallery a huge white curved wall, in front of which was the installation called "Shooting into a Corner." I cannot begin to explain what I saw so I will rely on an explanation by the website e-flux:

"'Shooting into the Corner' consists of a cannon developed by Kapoor together with a team of engineers. A pneumatic compressor shoots 11-kilogram balls of wax into the corner across the room; all in all, 20 tons of wax will be "fired away" throughout the exhibition run. Loud aggression on the one hand and silent growth on the other give the piece tension, sensuality, and compelling power."

I am not sure about the sensuality part, but it was certainly tense. There was such a crowd gathered to see the wax fired. And the noise the shot made... it was definitely a powerful piece. Having seen what seemed to be the corner piece of the exhibit, we made our way to the gift shop and then out into the cool breeze of evening time Bilbao.

A quick note on the weather: the whole time we were in Bilbao, we were in sweaters. Yes, sweaters. I have never been so cold in July in my life. Sitting along the estuary this evening, I was actually shivering. It appears that the weather will be more seasonal as we head west. I am hoping for at least a return of the sun, as for the cold... I can gut it out as long as there is sun!