Basque Country
So, I'm sitting in Cafe Boulevard, the oldest cafe in Bilboa, listening to a lecture about the difference between a cafe cortado and a cafe con leche from an irritable waiter.
Upon receiving my coffee and roll, I move to a table far away from the ill-humored waiter and seriously consider going back to tell him that his mood affects many people's days and that he should really try to be nicer, but I just don't have the energy for it. This is indicative of my 24 hours in Bilbao. Terse responses, corrections to my Spanish from strangers, offers of explanation in English from innocent bystanders and my angry responses that I understood the first time, thanks. Times like these make me feel like I've learned nothing at all during my time in Spain, but a little later, with the perspective of time, I realize that the lecture incident involved one rude person and was not an indication of my speaking skills nor a reflection of the disposition of an entire region.
On the bus back to Madrid, I reviewed my pictures of my extended weekend in San Sebastian and my one night in Bilbao, and realized that I'd just had a really cool experience, in spite of the ups and downs throughout. Both places are really stunningly beautiful and the overal attitude of the residents is relaxed and friendly, a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Madrid. The Basque region has a much higher rainfall average than many other parts of Spain. As a result, the mountains are beautifully green and lush. The down side is that, well, it rains alot. During my 5 days in the region, I had one solid day of sun and a couple of late afternoon through bedtime clear patches. Although not ideal for a beach vacation, I had the benefit of much cooler temperatures, which was a welcome change from the scorching heat back home in Madrid. I slept well in the cool air, many hours each night... when the screaming mobs weren't destroying something outside the terrace of my hostel room or the drunken Australians weren't performing some silly prank at 4 in the morning, but I digress.
The Basque region is in the north-central part of Spain, close to the border with France. Unfortunately, probably the most visible and well-known element of this region is the separatist group ETA. Spain's Prime Minister, Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, has recently opened a dialogue with ETA amidst much controversy and protest. ETA declared a permanent cease-fire in March of this year, and Zapatero has followed through on the Socialist party's promise to begin talks with the group if they renounced violence. Although the majority of Spaniards support some sort of dialogue, the issue is very contentious. More than 800 people have been killed in ETA attacks since the 1960's (Source: Wikipedia). All around the old town of San Sebastian, there are stickers to remind you of the separatist undercurrent.
I knew about the existence of ETA before my visit, but I knew little of the history of the Basque region and the roots of the separatist sentiment. The Basque region has a very rich history and has benefitted from semi-autonomous rule during several periods throughout history. I've found that this site has a really good overview of Basque origins and history if you're interested in learning more.
San Sebastian
I arrived in San Sebastian (Donostia in the Basque language of Euskara) in the evening, as the remnants of a rainstorm were clearing.
Bridge, River, Mountains... San Sebastian
As soon as I entered the hostel to check in, I knew that I was in for a colorful experience. The hostel is run by Australians and is a preferred hostel on the western loop of Busabout Europe. While an ideal summer adventure if you're 21 and looking to hook up with a drunk foreigner, it's probably NOT an ideal place to stay for a little mellower thirty-something guy. But, I decided to make the best of it. When they told me about the group excursion - sunset hike, dinner and a disco all for only 20 euros (a steal, they assured me, as the disco alone had a cover charge of 12 euros), I signed on for the deal.
I dropped my bags at the hostel and wandered around the old town for a bit before I met the guide for the excursion. Our hostel was in the most amazing location, right in the heart of the old town, across from the oldest church in San Sebastian. The down side was that it was right in the middle of the best bars, pubs and discos. Since it's the height of the summer vacation season, and this area is a huge draw for tourists from Spain and France, that meant a deafening roar of activity until at least 4 a.m. every night. Ah, the Spaniards and their crazy hours :)
Gothic Church With Hostel in the Background
Ebony, the Aussie woman running our hostel, grabbed me at around 8 p.m. to join the other tour folks at the main hostel office. The only other person from our hostel (one of 3 run by the same group in San Sebastian) was a German guy from Cologne named Fabian. He and I immediately hit it off and ended up talking most of the time until we reached the restaurant. The hike was beautiful, as promised. It kind of had a herded cattle feel to it, though, as there were probably 25 or 30 of us in total. I was just glad I found someone to relate to before everyone hooked into their little cliques. We watched the sunset from a lookout point and then wandered to the restaurant for dinner.
By the time we got to the restaurant, it felt like we had walked around all of old and part of new San Sebastian twice. Fabian, who had been to this area several times previously, confirmed this for me. FINALLY, we arrived at the restaurant, hungry and ready for some famed Basque cuisine. I could see upon entry that it was best to pick a good table soon, so embarked on the selection process between mildy and thoroughly irritating 20-somethings. I settled in with a pretty good group, or at least my half of the table seemed ok. Two Aussies who seemed to know each other, one French Canadian guy and a Brit from the outskirts of London. The other half of the table consisted of two guys that looked like they were competing for some sort of MTV rock star reality show. They had this hair that I first viewed on this trip. Probably already huge in the states, but I wouldn't know, as I'm soooo out of touch with U.S. culture. It looked like if you had long-ish hair and went to bed with your hair wet - the day after effect - but with lots of product. Sort of akin to the classic "spiked" look, but much larger. I actually just saw an ad for this stuff on TV called "Out of Bed Gel" by L'oreal. That must be it. Anyway, the guys were en fuego dude, and then there were 4 blondes who looked like they'd just graduated from the Paris Hilton school of fashion. I'm so very happy that I wasn't able to hear much of the conversation on that side of the table, but most of the time, it was the guys looking like they were trying to be witty while the girls looked vaguely interested and occasionally fussed with their headband or makeup.
On my side of the table, we had fairly interesting conversation, but like the kind of conversation you have when you have just graduated from university, you have your whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities, and you're on your first European adventure to see what life is really all about. Then it came to me, and I'm like, yep, did that a few years ago, had some time workin' for "The Man" and decided to check back out for a while to see how life was on the other side. They all sort of nodded like they might understand, but did I even?
The blond Aussie guy had just returned from a few days in Ibiza, and told this story at least 3 times while I was listening...
Every time I heard the story, same reaction, "PARIS HILTON?! No way!!!" You should have seen the Paris clones when they heard. They wanted every detail. Like they hadn't already read it in the latest Cosmo or something (or heard it from their plastic surgeon, perhaps).
Ah, well, so dinner was a pretty amazing four-course meal, and then everyone gets up and mingles. Another Aussie guy had sat at a different table for dinner with my German friend and these two American girls from Oregon. I think these girls attended the Jessica Simpson fashion school, not quite as sassy, a little more vacant. (I know, you're thinking... is that possible? Believe it.) At the beginning of the mingling phase, a bunch of the guys congregated at the bar and ordered drinks, kind of just talked. The guys who were stuck with the American girls recounted how stupid the girls were, and how each guy pretty much ate two meals because the girls complained that everything had too much fat content for them to eat. The Australian guy said that the extra food was almost worth listening to their inane chatter the entire dinner.
I was the only person who spoke very much Spanish, so became the translator when people got stuck ordering drinks. I tried to teach one of the Aussie guys how to do it himself, but he'd still grab me from whatever I was doing each time he needed a drink. I'd arrive to a bewildered looking waitress with a half-full glass of something and him saying, "Tell her to put a wedge of lime and some fizzy water now." I'm like, "You want a vodka with fizzy water?!" He said he actually wanted tonic, but they didn't have that here. OK, fizzy water it is...
A little later, on my way back from the bathrooms, I spotted the blond Aussie with the more vacant of the two American girls in this booth, making out like a maniac. I would have said something like, GET A ROOM, but public sex is actually completely acceptable in Spain (or at least everything leading up to it, I see it on the metro with teenagers ALL the time), so I let them go at it while the entire room watched with mild amusement and snide commentary.
Finally, the lovebirds separate and go to their respective camps to tell the lowdown, a la Grease or something. By this point, the DJ in the restaurant had settled into a good groove and was spinnning some really good music. It was a good thing, too, because we were going on 3 hours at this place, and frankly, we needed something to keep the energy going. Apparently, the disco didn't get hopping until 3 a.m., so we had to kill time at the restaurant or another pub until then. Just as I was offering to be the first person in the center of a circle dance, this American guy with smaller rock star hair made his way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing like the CRAZY dance or something. Looked like a combination of break dancing, line dancing, with a dash of the robot thrown in. Everyone sort of looked freaked out and whispered amongst themselves, but it was enough of an impetus to get the rest of the group moving to the beat.
Fabian told me he was heading outside to smoke a joint, so I went with him for the walk. We wandered for a bit, and ended up in front of this amazing gothic looking church. Just when I think I'm tired of beautiful churches, a new one comes along to amaze me.
Buen Pastor Cathedral
We had a really good discussion about what it means to be American and European in the world of today. How misperceptions cloud our views of one another and how governments distort the images of countries when, at the core, people have a lot more commonalities than differences. We decided to head back in and see if the group was finally getting ready to go to the disco as promised. NO, but they assured us it was coming soon. At that point, Fabian left. I stayed a few more minutes, and just as one of the girls in the more geeky intellectual clique invited me to walk over to the disco with them, I realized that at this point, with 5 hours of sleep the night before, I probably would be better off just going back to the hostel to bed. I thanked her for the offer, and left the drunk college youngins to wander my way through the old town back to the hostel.
I'm so glad that I left when I did, because otherwise I would have been even more out of it the next day. I awoke to a beautiful sunny day. After an amazing pastry and cafe con leche on an outdoor terrace, I decided to hit the beach. La Concha is known as one of the most beautiful beaches in Spain. The lush green mountains surround the beach in a protected cove that makes for really nice mellow surf perfect for swimming or body surfing. Here's a picture looking out on La Concha from the boardwalk.
I ran into Fabian at the beach and it was cool to just sit around, get sun, dip in the ocean. The perfect beach day. Later that evening was a perfect sunset. Strange to be able to see the sunset from the north of Spain, but something about the curve of the coastline and the position of the earth right now and voila!
That evening, I had my first taste of the famous Basque pintxos. They're like tapas, but much more ornate, and each one is like an exquisite cuisine in bite-sized form.
You just grab a plate and take what you want to eat and then they charge you at the end. They're usually some kind of bread with something in the middle or some kind of topping. They also have hot and fried pintxos, like stuffed peppers and croquettes with yummy fillings. I just had a snack when I returned from the beach, waiting for a full meal until later. But each bite was so good :)
That night, I decided to go out to the gay bars in San Sebastian in the hopes of finding a crowd that was 1) more my age; and 2) more my type. Well, I'm not going to go into much detail, but I went to every gay bar but one in this little resort town, and had very little fun. Not that there wasn't fun to be had. It looked like there were humans engaged in enjoyable activities, but I was not one of them. I went out two nights in a row, although the first night I REALLY went all over the place. The second night, I decided to cut my losses and go home early rather than keep changing venue in the hopes of the next BIG THING.
Highlights of my bar experiences include:
See, not very exciting, but at least I know that there is gay life out there on the beautiful beaches of San Sebastian. Never made it to the BIG disco on the beach for which I had paid as part of the first night package deal. It was probably transcendental, but at 3 in the morning, I would be levitating from sleep deprivation, NOT from the latest move I was bustin' on the dance floor.
The second night, I returned to the hostel and grabbed my camera to take some night shots, as everything looked so cool after dark.
Mount Igueldo at Night
Doorway of Santa Maria del Coro Church
I had read in my guidebook that Mount Igueldo has spectacular views of the surrounding coastline. On my last day, I finally made it to that side of the beach and boarded the funicular to the top. San Francisco's cable cars climb some really steep hills in places, but I think this thing has them beat. All the seats are tilted, though, so it feels kinda normal, but definitely looks strange.
Mount Igueldo Funicular
At the top, there is a really charming, rickety-looking amusement park. Must have been built around the time that the concept of amusement park was created, and not much has changed since then. There's also a lookout point at the very top, which claims to have the best view in the world. I was unwilling to pay 5 Euros to enter, though, so I guess I'll never know.
Amusement Park and Lookout Tower
All Aboard!
Roller Coaster with Crazy View
San Sebastian and La Concha from Mount Igueldo
The coastline is stunning, and the views of some of the amusement park rides from that perspective are really surreal. Parts of the coastline almost reminded me of Big Sur in California.
That evening, I saw my last perfect sunset in San Sebastian.
The next morning, after an amazing pastry and coffee in the drizzly haze, I boarded a bus for Bilbao.
Bilbao
When I messaged a friend about the obnoxious noise levels at my hostel in San Sebastian, she suggested that I treat myself to a nice hotel in Bilbao. I would not have taken her advice due to financial constraints, but when I went to book a hostel in Bilbao on short notice, all were sold out. For a pretty good price, I got a really posh room at this recently remodeled hotel, and it was soooo what I needed. Situated right on the edge of the Casco Viejo section in the old center of town, it was walking distance or a quick tram ride to everything I wanted to see.
Bilbao immediately felt different than San Sebastian. For one thing, it has a metro system. Not just any metro system, but a new metro system that just started carrying passengers in 1995. Like everything new in Bilbao, it's super modern and beautiful, designed by world-class architects with daring new uses of space that combine cutting edge design with function. Another difference is that Bilbao is a city where you get the feeling that people actually live there. San Sebastian has this surreal resort feeling to it, like an eternal holiday (and in the summer, it is). Bilbao is surreal, as well, but in a different way.
In the mid 90's, suffering from a decline in the industries that had been the backbone of the city's economy, the city of Bilbao put into place a plan of urban renewal to shift the focus from industry to tourism. The metro was started in 1988, but the renewal process really took off when the Guggenheim museum designed by Frank Gehry opened in 1997. This was my first stop after I dropped my bags at the hotel. The building is just crazy looking as you approach, and the size and way that it blends with the rest of the cityscape is really something to see. The majority of the museum is covered in titanium tiles that are supposed to last for 100 years. There are also facades made of limestone and tinted glass panes.
As you approach from the river side, you walk past this crazy 30-foot-tall arachnoid sculpture that is just too strange.
Maman by Louise Bourgeois
On the other side of the building, near the entrance, you're greeted by a huge puppy sculpture made out of flowers.
Puppy by Jeff Koons
By the time I got inside, I already felt like I'd seen an art exhibit. I only have a certain tolerance for art galleries and such in any given day, but I really wanted to see the current exhibition of Russian art from the 13th century to the present. According to the exhibition materials, "the most comprehensive and significant exhibition of Russian art sent abroad since the end of the Cold War." There were works in all types of mediums from the 13th century to the present. Very, very interesting. There were a couple of multimedia presentations at the end that were actually really disturbing. One involving a video that I found out later was footage taken of shock treatments given to patients in a Russian mental institution. BUT, for the most part, it was a really interesting retrospective and good insight into the Russian culture that was obscured from me during much of my upbringing. VERY interesting info about the artists and how they tried to find ways to create provocative art without being banned by the Communist Party or persecuted. Also, kind of creepy to see the art as propaganda pieces, as some of them are really powerful.
Afterwards, I wandered along the waterfront, and it seems like everywhere you turn, there's some new crazy building or structure. My blog entries are kind of out of order here, but one of the famous pedestrian bridges that I really loved in Bilbao turns out to be by the same guy who blew me away with his Oriente train station design in Lisbon - Santiago Calatrava. One of his designs has also been chosen to be the new transit hub for the World Trade Center site in New York.
Zubizuri Bridge by Santiago Calatrava
I've had this strange sort of synchronicity happening with things like that. I was really sad in San Sebastian, because I didn't make it to see the Eduardo Chillida sculptures at the waterfront. Then, when I got to the Guggenheim, they had an exhibit with three galleries full of his work. On my way to the Basque Country, I read a story about the horrible bombing of the Basque town of Guernica. A couple of weeks later, I was able to see the original Picasso painting of the same name here at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid during a free visit organized by my volunteer group. I guess sometimes threads of interest and experience transcend space and time.
As I exited the Guggenheim, and wandered along the waterfront, the thing that really captivated me was the juxtaposition of the old and the new, the natural and the synthetic. In the hills surrounding the Guggenheim, there are sheep grazing on the super-green grass, hundreds of meters from an old University building that you get to by crossing a super-modern footbridge.
When I returned to the super-modern hotel room, I rested a bit before heading out for dinner and a drink. After being treated like a leper at a couple of restaurants eager to close their doors, I sort of accepted that I missed the normal dinner time (it's as late as in Madrid, but doesn't last as long, DAMNIT, just when I thought I had this Spain this figured out). The hotel clerk suggested the Chinese place down one of the narrow streets of the Casco Viejo as a last-ditch-effort. Actually, it turned out to be a great meal and cheap too. GOD LOVE THE CHINESE!!!!
It turns out that most of the bars are closed on Tuesday, so my options were like a drag queen bar or a working class gay man's joint. I chose the latter, and actually really enjoyed my one beverage of just sort of watching people. It was early for them (midnight), so not too busy yet. The place kinda reminded me of Panic! in Lincoln Nebraska (affectionately referred to as the "ick"). Just sort of normal people going out for a drink... lots of mullets and plaid. Although, the mullet thing in and of itself wouldn't really be out of the ordinary in Spain. More to come on that.
So, I made it home at a decent hour after a quick wander into the Casco Viejo to see this beautiful cathedral where my friend met her ex-husband. Great night's sleep and on the bus again the next day for Madrid. I really wished that I had more time in Bilbao, because I didn't even scratch the service, and I really like the overall vibe of the place, aside from a few crotchety service folk :) Alas, as my time here is running out and there is so much Spain and so little me, I probably won't be able to return on this pass through. Maybe in the future that already exists in the Basque city of Bilbao...
So, I'm sitting in Cafe Boulevard, the oldest cafe in Bilboa, listening to a lecture about the difference between a cafe cortado and a cafe con leche from an irritable waiter.
Upon receiving my coffee and roll, I move to a table far away from the ill-humored waiter and seriously consider going back to tell him that his mood affects many people's days and that he should really try to be nicer, but I just don't have the energy for it. This is indicative of my 24 hours in Bilbao. Terse responses, corrections to my Spanish from strangers, offers of explanation in English from innocent bystanders and my angry responses that I understood the first time, thanks. Times like these make me feel like I've learned nothing at all during my time in Spain, but a little later, with the perspective of time, I realize that the lecture incident involved one rude person and was not an indication of my speaking skills nor a reflection of the disposition of an entire region.
On the bus back to Madrid, I reviewed my pictures of my extended weekend in San Sebastian and my one night in Bilbao, and realized that I'd just had a really cool experience, in spite of the ups and downs throughout. Both places are really stunningly beautiful and the overal attitude of the residents is relaxed and friendly, a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Madrid. The Basque region has a much higher rainfall average than many other parts of Spain. As a result, the mountains are beautifully green and lush. The down side is that, well, it rains alot. During my 5 days in the region, I had one solid day of sun and a couple of late afternoon through bedtime clear patches. Although not ideal for a beach vacation, I had the benefit of much cooler temperatures, which was a welcome change from the scorching heat back home in Madrid. I slept well in the cool air, many hours each night... when the screaming mobs weren't destroying something outside the terrace of my hostel room or the drunken Australians weren't performing some silly prank at 4 in the morning, but I digress.
The Basque region is in the north-central part of Spain, close to the border with France. Unfortunately, probably the most visible and well-known element of this region is the separatist group ETA. Spain's Prime Minister, Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, has recently opened a dialogue with ETA amidst much controversy and protest. ETA declared a permanent cease-fire in March of this year, and Zapatero has followed through on the Socialist party's promise to begin talks with the group if they renounced violence. Although the majority of Spaniards support some sort of dialogue, the issue is very contentious. More than 800 people have been killed in ETA attacks since the 1960's (Source: Wikipedia). All around the old town of San Sebastian, there are stickers to remind you of the separatist undercurrent.
I knew about the existence of ETA before my visit, but I knew little of the history of the Basque region and the roots of the separatist sentiment. The Basque region has a very rich history and has benefitted from semi-autonomous rule during several periods throughout history. I've found that this site has a really good overview of Basque origins and history if you're interested in learning more.
San Sebastian
I arrived in San Sebastian (Donostia in the Basque language of Euskara) in the evening, as the remnants of a rainstorm were clearing.
As soon as I entered the hostel to check in, I knew that I was in for a colorful experience. The hostel is run by Australians and is a preferred hostel on the western loop of Busabout Europe. While an ideal summer adventure if you're 21 and looking to hook up with a drunk foreigner, it's probably NOT an ideal place to stay for a little mellower thirty-something guy. But, I decided to make the best of it. When they told me about the group excursion - sunset hike, dinner and a disco all for only 20 euros (a steal, they assured me, as the disco alone had a cover charge of 12 euros), I signed on for the deal.
I dropped my bags at the hostel and wandered around the old town for a bit before I met the guide for the excursion. Our hostel was in the most amazing location, right in the heart of the old town, across from the oldest church in San Sebastian. The down side was that it was right in the middle of the best bars, pubs and discos. Since it's the height of the summer vacation season, and this area is a huge draw for tourists from Spain and France, that meant a deafening roar of activity until at least 4 a.m. every night. Ah, the Spaniards and their crazy hours :)
Ebony, the Aussie woman running our hostel, grabbed me at around 8 p.m. to join the other tour folks at the main hostel office. The only other person from our hostel (one of 3 run by the same group in San Sebastian) was a German guy from Cologne named Fabian. He and I immediately hit it off and ended up talking most of the time until we reached the restaurant. The hike was beautiful, as promised. It kind of had a herded cattle feel to it, though, as there were probably 25 or 30 of us in total. I was just glad I found someone to relate to before everyone hooked into their little cliques. We watched the sunset from a lookout point and then wandered to the restaurant for dinner.
By the time we got to the restaurant, it felt like we had walked around all of old and part of new San Sebastian twice. Fabian, who had been to this area several times previously, confirmed this for me. FINALLY, we arrived at the restaurant, hungry and ready for some famed Basque cuisine. I could see upon entry that it was best to pick a good table soon, so embarked on the selection process between mildy and thoroughly irritating 20-somethings. I settled in with a pretty good group, or at least my half of the table seemed ok. Two Aussies who seemed to know each other, one French Canadian guy and a Brit from the outskirts of London. The other half of the table consisted of two guys that looked like they were competing for some sort of MTV rock star reality show. They had this hair that I first viewed on this trip. Probably already huge in the states, but I wouldn't know, as I'm soooo out of touch with U.S. culture. It looked like if you had long-ish hair and went to bed with your hair wet - the day after effect - but with lots of product. Sort of akin to the classic "spiked" look, but much larger. I actually just saw an ad for this stuff on TV called "Out of Bed Gel" by L'oreal. That must be it. Anyway, the guys were en fuego dude, and then there were 4 blondes who looked like they'd just graduated from the Paris Hilton school of fashion. I'm so very happy that I wasn't able to hear much of the conversation on that side of the table, but most of the time, it was the guys looking like they were trying to be witty while the girls looked vaguely interested and occasionally fussed with their headband or makeup.
On my side of the table, we had fairly interesting conversation, but like the kind of conversation you have when you have just graduated from university, you have your whole life ahead of you, full of possibilities, and you're on your first European adventure to see what life is really all about. Then it came to me, and I'm like, yep, did that a few years ago, had some time workin' for "The Man" and decided to check back out for a while to see how life was on the other side. They all sort of nodded like they might understand, but did I even?
The blond Aussie guy had just returned from a few days in Ibiza, and told this story at least 3 times while I was listening...
He was in Ibiza, the drinks were outrageous - 12 Euros for a cocktail and 6 Euros for a tiny bottle of water. The club they were in was huge and crazy and with some of the best DJ's in the world (they better be, he assured us, for the 45-Euro cover charge). They looked up from their table and saw this cute blond girl with four huge body guards dressed in black, and she comes up to the table and is like "Hi guys!" They were all like, "Hi Paris!"
Every time I heard the story, same reaction, "PARIS HILTON?! No way!!!" You should have seen the Paris clones when they heard. They wanted every detail. Like they hadn't already read it in the latest Cosmo or something (or heard it from their plastic surgeon, perhaps).
Ah, well, so dinner was a pretty amazing four-course meal, and then everyone gets up and mingles. Another Aussie guy had sat at a different table for dinner with my German friend and these two American girls from Oregon. I think these girls attended the Jessica Simpson fashion school, not quite as sassy, a little more vacant. (I know, you're thinking... is that possible? Believe it.) At the beginning of the mingling phase, a bunch of the guys congregated at the bar and ordered drinks, kind of just talked. The guys who were stuck with the American girls recounted how stupid the girls were, and how each guy pretty much ate two meals because the girls complained that everything had too much fat content for them to eat. The Australian guy said that the extra food was almost worth listening to their inane chatter the entire dinner.
I was the only person who spoke very much Spanish, so became the translator when people got stuck ordering drinks. I tried to teach one of the Aussie guys how to do it himself, but he'd still grab me from whatever I was doing each time he needed a drink. I'd arrive to a bewildered looking waitress with a half-full glass of something and him saying, "Tell her to put a wedge of lime and some fizzy water now." I'm like, "You want a vodka with fizzy water?!" He said he actually wanted tonic, but they didn't have that here. OK, fizzy water it is...
A little later, on my way back from the bathrooms, I spotted the blond Aussie with the more vacant of the two American girls in this booth, making out like a maniac. I would have said something like, GET A ROOM, but public sex is actually completely acceptable in Spain (or at least everything leading up to it, I see it on the metro with teenagers ALL the time), so I let them go at it while the entire room watched with mild amusement and snide commentary.
Finally, the lovebirds separate and go to their respective camps to tell the lowdown, a la Grease or something. By this point, the DJ in the restaurant had settled into a good groove and was spinnning some really good music. It was a good thing, too, because we were going on 3 hours at this place, and frankly, we needed something to keep the energy going. Apparently, the disco didn't get hopping until 3 a.m., so we had to kill time at the restaurant or another pub until then. Just as I was offering to be the first person in the center of a circle dance, this American guy with smaller rock star hair made his way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing like the CRAZY dance or something. Looked like a combination of break dancing, line dancing, with a dash of the robot thrown in. Everyone sort of looked freaked out and whispered amongst themselves, but it was enough of an impetus to get the rest of the group moving to the beat.
Fabian told me he was heading outside to smoke a joint, so I went with him for the walk. We wandered for a bit, and ended up in front of this amazing gothic looking church. Just when I think I'm tired of beautiful churches, a new one comes along to amaze me.
We had a really good discussion about what it means to be American and European in the world of today. How misperceptions cloud our views of one another and how governments distort the images of countries when, at the core, people have a lot more commonalities than differences. We decided to head back in and see if the group was finally getting ready to go to the disco as promised. NO, but they assured us it was coming soon. At that point, Fabian left. I stayed a few more minutes, and just as one of the girls in the more geeky intellectual clique invited me to walk over to the disco with them, I realized that at this point, with 5 hours of sleep the night before, I probably would be better off just going back to the hostel to bed. I thanked her for the offer, and left the drunk college youngins to wander my way through the old town back to the hostel.
I'm so glad that I left when I did, because otherwise I would have been even more out of it the next day. I awoke to a beautiful sunny day. After an amazing pastry and cafe con leche on an outdoor terrace, I decided to hit the beach. La Concha is known as one of the most beautiful beaches in Spain. The lush green mountains surround the beach in a protected cove that makes for really nice mellow surf perfect for swimming or body surfing. Here's a picture looking out on La Concha from the boardwalk.
I ran into Fabian at the beach and it was cool to just sit around, get sun, dip in the ocean. The perfect beach day. Later that evening was a perfect sunset. Strange to be able to see the sunset from the north of Spain, but something about the curve of the coastline and the position of the earth right now and voila!
That evening, I had my first taste of the famous Basque pintxos. They're like tapas, but much more ornate, and each one is like an exquisite cuisine in bite-sized form.
You just grab a plate and take what you want to eat and then they charge you at the end. They're usually some kind of bread with something in the middle or some kind of topping. They also have hot and fried pintxos, like stuffed peppers and croquettes with yummy fillings. I just had a snack when I returned from the beach, waiting for a full meal until later. But each bite was so good :)
That night, I decided to go out to the gay bars in San Sebastian in the hopes of finding a crowd that was 1) more my age; and 2) more my type. Well, I'm not going to go into much detail, but I went to every gay bar but one in this little resort town, and had very little fun. Not that there wasn't fun to be had. It looked like there were humans engaged in enjoyable activities, but I was not one of them. I went out two nights in a row, although the first night I REALLY went all over the place. The second night, I decided to cut my losses and go home early rather than keep changing venue in the hopes of the next BIG THING.
Highlights of my bar experiences include:
- Watching these two straight guys try to pick up on all the lesbians and any other humans with the appearance of being a female. The cute one was finally successful, although I think the woman was with her mother, who did not look very amused to see this young man macking on her daughter. I'm not even going to ask what the mother-daughter team was doing in a gay bar in the first place.
- Seeing a 22-year-old boy with whom I had chatted online, made a date and been flaked upon (with the double edged excuse of problems with wisdom teeth AND a sick grandmother - come on, at least try to make it sound plausible), only to have him completely deny that he was the person I had met. I'm just kind of wondering how many 22-year-olds in Spain are 6'1" with super curly brown hair down the middle of their back, blue eyes and a lower lip piercing AND look exactly like the little fucker. He insisited that there must be many people that look like him, though, and that I must be mistaken.
- Meeting a very sweet Spaniard from Andalucia who accompanied to a couple of the bars before I became really really bored of the latest Bob Sinclair remix and had to leave.
See, not very exciting, but at least I know that there is gay life out there on the beautiful beaches of San Sebastian. Never made it to the BIG disco on the beach for which I had paid as part of the first night package deal. It was probably transcendental, but at 3 in the morning, I would be levitating from sleep deprivation, NOT from the latest move I was bustin' on the dance floor.
The second night, I returned to the hostel and grabbed my camera to take some night shots, as everything looked so cool after dark.
I had read in my guidebook that Mount Igueldo has spectacular views of the surrounding coastline. On my last day, I finally made it to that side of the beach and boarded the funicular to the top. San Francisco's cable cars climb some really steep hills in places, but I think this thing has them beat. All the seats are tilted, though, so it feels kinda normal, but definitely looks strange.
At the top, there is a really charming, rickety-looking amusement park. Must have been built around the time that the concept of amusement park was created, and not much has changed since then. There's also a lookout point at the very top, which claims to have the best view in the world. I was unwilling to pay 5 Euros to enter, though, so I guess I'll never know.
The coastline is stunning, and the views of some of the amusement park rides from that perspective are really surreal. Parts of the coastline almost reminded me of Big Sur in California.
That evening, I saw my last perfect sunset in San Sebastian.
The next morning, after an amazing pastry and coffee in the drizzly haze, I boarded a bus for Bilbao.
Bilbao
When I messaged a friend about the obnoxious noise levels at my hostel in San Sebastian, she suggested that I treat myself to a nice hotel in Bilbao. I would not have taken her advice due to financial constraints, but when I went to book a hostel in Bilbao on short notice, all were sold out. For a pretty good price, I got a really posh room at this recently remodeled hotel, and it was soooo what I needed. Situated right on the edge of the Casco Viejo section in the old center of town, it was walking distance or a quick tram ride to everything I wanted to see.
Bilbao immediately felt different than San Sebastian. For one thing, it has a metro system. Not just any metro system, but a new metro system that just started carrying passengers in 1995. Like everything new in Bilbao, it's super modern and beautiful, designed by world-class architects with daring new uses of space that combine cutting edge design with function. Another difference is that Bilbao is a city where you get the feeling that people actually live there. San Sebastian has this surreal resort feeling to it, like an eternal holiday (and in the summer, it is). Bilbao is surreal, as well, but in a different way.
In the mid 90's, suffering from a decline in the industries that had been the backbone of the city's economy, the city of Bilbao put into place a plan of urban renewal to shift the focus from industry to tourism. The metro was started in 1988, but the renewal process really took off when the Guggenheim museum designed by Frank Gehry opened in 1997. This was my first stop after I dropped my bags at the hotel. The building is just crazy looking as you approach, and the size and way that it blends with the rest of the cityscape is really something to see. The majority of the museum is covered in titanium tiles that are supposed to last for 100 years. There are also facades made of limestone and tinted glass panes.
As you approach from the river side, you walk past this crazy 30-foot-tall arachnoid sculpture that is just too strange.
On the other side of the building, near the entrance, you're greeted by a huge puppy sculpture made out of flowers.
By the time I got inside, I already felt like I'd seen an art exhibit. I only have a certain tolerance for art galleries and such in any given day, but I really wanted to see the current exhibition of Russian art from the 13th century to the present. According to the exhibition materials, "the most comprehensive and significant exhibition of Russian art sent abroad since the end of the Cold War." There were works in all types of mediums from the 13th century to the present. Very, very interesting. There were a couple of multimedia presentations at the end that were actually really disturbing. One involving a video that I found out later was footage taken of shock treatments given to patients in a Russian mental institution. BUT, for the most part, it was a really interesting retrospective and good insight into the Russian culture that was obscured from me during much of my upbringing. VERY interesting info about the artists and how they tried to find ways to create provocative art without being banned by the Communist Party or persecuted. Also, kind of creepy to see the art as propaganda pieces, as some of them are really powerful.
Afterwards, I wandered along the waterfront, and it seems like everywhere you turn, there's some new crazy building or structure. My blog entries are kind of out of order here, but one of the famous pedestrian bridges that I really loved in Bilbao turns out to be by the same guy who blew me away with his Oriente train station design in Lisbon - Santiago Calatrava. One of his designs has also been chosen to be the new transit hub for the World Trade Center site in New York.
I've had this strange sort of synchronicity happening with things like that. I was really sad in San Sebastian, because I didn't make it to see the Eduardo Chillida sculptures at the waterfront. Then, when I got to the Guggenheim, they had an exhibit with three galleries full of his work. On my way to the Basque Country, I read a story about the horrible bombing of the Basque town of Guernica. A couple of weeks later, I was able to see the original Picasso painting of the same name here at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid during a free visit organized by my volunteer group. I guess sometimes threads of interest and experience transcend space and time.
As I exited the Guggenheim, and wandered along the waterfront, the thing that really captivated me was the juxtaposition of the old and the new, the natural and the synthetic. In the hills surrounding the Guggenheim, there are sheep grazing on the super-green grass, hundreds of meters from an old University building that you get to by crossing a super-modern footbridge.
When I returned to the super-modern hotel room, I rested a bit before heading out for dinner and a drink. After being treated like a leper at a couple of restaurants eager to close their doors, I sort of accepted that I missed the normal dinner time (it's as late as in Madrid, but doesn't last as long, DAMNIT, just when I thought I had this Spain this figured out). The hotel clerk suggested the Chinese place down one of the narrow streets of the Casco Viejo as a last-ditch-effort. Actually, it turned out to be a great meal and cheap too. GOD LOVE THE CHINESE!!!!
It turns out that most of the bars are closed on Tuesday, so my options were like a drag queen bar or a working class gay man's joint. I chose the latter, and actually really enjoyed my one beverage of just sort of watching people. It was early for them (midnight), so not too busy yet. The place kinda reminded me of Panic! in Lincoln Nebraska (affectionately referred to as the "ick"). Just sort of normal people going out for a drink... lots of mullets and plaid. Although, the mullet thing in and of itself wouldn't really be out of the ordinary in Spain. More to come on that.
So, I made it home at a decent hour after a quick wander into the Casco Viejo to see this beautiful cathedral where my friend met her ex-husband. Great night's sleep and on the bus again the next day for Madrid. I really wished that I had more time in Bilbao, because I didn't even scratch the service, and I really like the overall vibe of the place, aside from a few crotchety service folk :) Alas, as my time here is running out and there is so much Spain and so little me, I probably won't be able to return on this pass through. Maybe in the future that already exists in the Basque city of Bilbao...
posted by Chromest*r at 3:42 PM
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