Bilbao *Swoon*

I love to travel. This is really no secret. I have never been anyplace that I sincerely dislike, although I wouldn’t necessarily go back everyplace I’ve been. For me, trips are often “made” by a combination of company and location. Good company can make me feel fondly towards an otherwise unexceptional location, while an outstanding location can make-up for bad (or no) company.

It is hard for me to rank the best places I’ve been because I feel like it has to be broken down into situational categories. How did time of year, weather, company, etc., effect my impression? Also, I just love pretty much everywhere I’ve been! The only ranking I can for sure give you is my number one favorite spot---that of course being Salzburg, Austria, home to my heart and my most precious memories. It will always be number one.

However, I am also an instinctual person and so while I’ve loved pretty much everywhere I’ve been, there have been a few special places that have immediately (like, the second I stepped off plane/train) secured a spot in my heart for no other reason than I just feel something more there. I have even felt that way about places before I’ve been there—I picked Salzburg for my study abroad based on nothing but the catalogue, pictures, and a really deep feeling in my heart that it was so very right. (AND IT WAS.) Before I went to Edinburgh for winter holiday, I felt the same…and from the minute I got on the bus to head into town to meet with Haley, I felt that certain something, and I was in love before the trip even started. When I proposed a few locations to Shannon for our trip and she picked Bilbao, I googled the photos and felt that hint of feeling. When we got into the taxi to drive from the airport into town—well, there it was for the third time in my life. I loved it.

This long intro is to say: I may not really be able to tell you why I loved Bilbao in any way that will stick out to you. Yes, it is an unarguably beautiful city but it admittedly is not particularly different than dozens of other scenic European cities. So just understand that I loved it, I just did.

We landed in Bilbao in drizzly weather around 7 o’clock on Tuesday the 19th. It was the longest short flight of my life because I was wondering the entire time if I was missing a call telling me my nephew had been born. I landed, switched on my phone and waited for it to beep at me that I had a voicemail…nothing.

We grabbed a taxi to get into town as the airport was a bit outside and although my phone was still glued securely to my hand, my eyes were glued to the scenery. I was in wonderland. Coming from the brown dusty south filled with endless rolling hills of olive trees the sudden pop of emerald green was like resuscitation for my nature-loving soul. Bilbao itself was set down in a valley between tall greengreengreen hills (emphasis green anyone?) with a river winding through it. The town had a picturesque mixture of old buildings and cobblestone streets as well as modern (but still lovely, not cold) buildings. I was positively giddy as we wound down the hilly streets into old town, breezing by parks set right against the river, families on walks, old churches, fancy buildings…I think Shannon was overwhelmed with my enthusiasm.

And then as we checked in to our beyond awesome hostal (hostel prices, but really a lower-end hotel; we had our own room and bathroom!), I got the text.

My nephew had arrived! 9lbs and 15 ounces (yep). I booked it to the computer in the sala and cried when I looked at my first picture. The other people coming in and out of the room gaped at the crazy crying American and I just stared and cried. Then I took a picture of the computer screen with my cell phone camera and made it my background.

Well, I finally stepped away from the computer so Shannon and I could go look around town and grab some dinner.

We were both enamored with the beautiful old part of town our hotel was in, the beautiful bridges over the river and the incredible view of the hills beyond the town in every direction.

As we walked back through the streets intent on finding dinner, we encountered our first Semana Santa procession. I was so happy as I had wanted Shannon to witness this distinctly Spanish tradition.

{Please keep in mind that the traditional costumes of the processors were around long before the KKK stole the look. Semana Santa is in no way related with the KKK.}

Wednesday morning we planned to make our way to the Guggenheim museum at a leisurely pace. We walked along the river, admiring the plentiful parks and trees stretching along it and we stopped for a bit on a bench to talk about life and our futures.

We spent a good three or four hours in the Guggenheim itself and I for one thoroughly enjoyed it. I’ve never been to any other Guggenheim, but this one blew me away. It was modern art to the core but featured huge and impressive installments. My favorite was a room (I mean a huge room—two stories high and stretching to the length of a football field) that had gigantic metal elliptical fixtures that you could walk into and find your way to the middle or to the other side. Explanations don’t do it justice; suffice it to say it was cool and I love interactive art. Pictures were forbidden, something we found out after we snapped a few from the second floor look out point.

After the museum we were famished so we grabbed kebabs for lunch. I love kebabs, the European equivalent to fast food, but I think some Americans might not quite know what they are. When I say kebab do you think meat, vegetables and sometimes fruit on a stick? Yeah, that’s not what this is. European kebabs (coming from Middle Eastern tradition) are delicious bits of lamb (traditional and preferred by me) or chicken/beef in a *pita or wrap with lettuce, onion, tomato and a tasty sauce; spicy if desired (I do not). I was first introduced to them when I lived in Salzburg and we had 2 stands right across the street from my flat—my friends and I used to go down and grab kebabs when we were feeling to lazy to cook and they were always just €3 or so. Anyway, I have never been to a European city where kebab places aren’t frequent and I love it that way. They seriously need to make their way to the USA.

*When I typed pita, I originally typed Peeta. This is very telling.

Anywho, tangent over. Shannon was imagining kebabs as the meat-on-stick deal so she volunteered to try the superior kind after I told her about them. I think she liked them—I hope.

After that we just explored a bit and took shelter in a mall when it began to rain. Luckily it didn’t rain long and then we sat on the wall by the river outside of the Guggenheim for quite a while just talking about things both serious and fun.

After our days adventure we opted for a low-key dinner with a plan to search out dessert afterwards. Well, dessert ended up being a little hard to find, but we did come across a really cool bar showing the Barcelona/Madrid game and we decided it was a good idea to have the classic Spanish fútbol experience. Shannon knows a lot about fútbol actually and explained bits and pieces to me. We both had a blast watching and were sad when the game was over—also sad that Barcelona came so close to scoring but never did so the game ended 0-0.

Thursday started off a bit sour. We had originally planned to go to San Sebastian on Thursday, a beautiful sea-side town, but discovered the night before that all trains and buses were sold out. DUH, it was vacation week. Oh well, we scrambled and came up with an alternate excursion location. Only problem? The forecast called for rain, which would render a beach day a bit pointless. We decided to check the next morning and, sure enough, rain. Ok, no problem, we’d wanted to rent bikes and explore more of town anyway. We had a nice café breakfast and headed to the closest rent-a-bike stand (they were frequent all over the city). But we couldn’t figure out how to get the machine to take either of our credit cards…until a nice man came up and explained to me in Spanish that the machines don’t actually take credit cards but pre-paid Bilbao bike cards. Ok. Alright. We’ll just head over to Tourist Information and ask where we can buy a card. We go in and…the place to pay for a card is closed until Saturday. We leave Friday night. Grrrr.

To be honest, at this point we both felt drained and frustrated. I really really wanted to ride bikes and we both just didn’t have the energy for another back-up plan. Sure the city was gorgeous and we’d be happy to explore, but we were a bit tired from almost a solid week of travel and had wanted some wheels. We just sat on the steps for a bit and watched a strange rally with some comically large bikes…

{This is before the crowd gathered around them.}

Finally we decided we could take the funicular about up the hill to see the city views we’d heard about. Once we formulated this plan we really began to take to it and decided if there were benches or park areas up there we could just spend the afternoon reading, writing, and basically relaxing. We were lucky to have a beautiful day in Bilbao, lots of sun and pretty warm, so our spirits quickly lifted.

Once we got to the top, I knew it was meant to be. It was beyond gorgeous up there, great views but also the advantage of endless park land, tons of full green trees, scattered benches and a few restaurants so we wouldn’t have to worry about going down for lunch.

We had a super tasty lunch at a sidreria and then spent hours soaking up the sun, napping off and on, listening to music, pondering life… It was perfect.

Friday morning Shannon finally got to taste Spanish-style churros which I’m always raving about. Clarification: Spanish churros are NOT Mexican churros. And I am unabashedly biased when I say Spanish churros are a thousand times superior. Growing up my very own Spanish abuela would make them when we visited and my mom makes them on special occasions (since they are quite a bit of work). I don’t know how to describe the difference to you, but the Spanish ones are less cake-y and more delicious.

You can all come visit me someday and I’ll make them (or beg my mom too).

We spent the little time we had left exploring the more modern part of town that we hadn’t yet seen and we found our way to a great park in the city center with a delightful pond and bridge (a la “You’ve Got Mail” in our minds).

And then it was time to go. Bus to the airport and a flight back to Barcelona where we spent only about 8 hours in a hostel before going back to the airport for our respective flights home.

{View from our hotel.}

And that's the end, my friends, to my really wordy re-cap of a very delightful trip.

*I apologize that most of the photos are of me--I feel abnormally vain, but Shannon put up mostly photos of me in her online album. Eeeek awkward. ;)