 Above: Guggenheim by Shan - she was the one[1] that captured the sun, smoke and silhouette. Bilbao was a revelation. Personally, it moistens my tired old eyes every time I think about it. The synergies evoke joy and frustration. Joy because of how the old city has been preserved and the interstices have been crafted alongside the Guggenheim. Frustration at how few cities around the world have managed to emulate the imagination and synergies that have been achieved here in Spain. The way it all fits together has taken vision and integration to another level, accommodating many forms of travel and architecture to join the dots in a way that is most rare. It also symbolises the path of Spain from a relatively decrepit nation not that many decades ago to a world-leading country that has a lot to teach its neighbours in Europe and aspirant nations further afield. Sometimes nations need inspiration to make a sea change and Bilbao's city fathers grasped the nettle[2]. But let's take a step back. The city is not just about the Guggenheim. After all it's only been there for fewer than 30 years. Our sojourn in Bilbao started in the old part of the city, as our sojourns often do. Arriving in town (Casco Viejo) It wasn't particularly auspicious to start with. We'd lugged our heavy bags a fair old way ... 2.5 km with little wheels across the cobbles only to find we couldn't actually find our accommodation, which was supposedly in one of the entrances to the Plaza Nuevo. We had also been expecting entrance codes for access to our apartment but, in fairness, were only due access at 3 PM. Pintxos beckoned; we were hungry after our journey. The closest bar to where we thought our accommodation might be was the Gure Toki and we were able to kill two birds with one stone: eat some delicious pintxos and find out where the entrance was to our accommodation. We still had to acquire the means to access our room, though, which arrived pretty much at the 11th hour, starting a process the first step of which required us to get through the front door, which turned out to be virtually unmarked, required a code and opened directly on to the Calle Chevas Ekain, one of the side-streets providing entrance to the Plaza. It then became obvious that we needed to shift our luggage up four flights of stairs and go through another code entry process to get into the "apartment". Until this point, it hadn't been very clear[3] that we would still have to use a code for our very cramped bedroom, which shared toilet facilities with two other bedrooms. It was absolutely the worst room of our month-long tour and it certainly wasn't the cheapest. But Bilbao! The rest of Bilbao just made up for any quibbles we had with our digs for two nights ... and heaven knows why we would wish for cooking facilities, shared or otherwise, when we actually overlooked the greatest pintxos Mecca in the Basque country. Above: the dingy alley and the unmarked door leading to the bottom of the stairs to our room; the daunting stairs to our room ... even without heavy suitcases. Do the Pintxos never stop coming The answer is, not when you're in the Basque Region. So you might as well buy a decent bottle of Rioja (the white's pretty good) and let the good times roll. But before that, we took a stroll around the Old Town Mecca of Bilbao, which pretty much surrounds the cathedral[4]. Gotta get a bit of kulcha to earn the Plaza experience. The thing that caught my imagination on our peroration was a brutalist tower (see pic below) that appeared to be more than 12 storeys high and suspended one end of a bridge across to the Etxebarri Parkea hilltop on the opposite side of it from the nearby River Nervión. A huge amount of the metropolitan energy in Bilbao since the 1990s has been directed at its de-industrialisation. The Guggenheim museum was central to this but that magnificent addition to the Basque city's landscape is just part of a grander scheme to transform the city into one of the world's best places in which to live and to visit. Either "my" tower predated this to some Brutalist period in Bilbao's history or it was part of this movement and chose to emulate that earlier architectural epoch in the 1990s. So I have spent an inordinate amount of time on t'internet trying to find out more about "my" tower to no avail. Maybe a reader or two of this blog knows the answers, if so pleeeeez leave a comment pointing me in the right direction. I was so preoccupied with it that I neglected to find out much about the cathedral [4]. Cathedrals, towers and plazas led us back to the Nueva and the Gure Toki, a decent bottle of Rioja Blanca and evening grub. In Shan's case the grub was Iberian Foie and Beef Cheek Pintxo. Bliss, as she has reminded me daily for the intervening 6 weeks it has taken to get this down on paper. I had something forgettable on that night so I do wish my dear wife would just recreate the cheeky Cheeks in her inimitable fashion, drool, drool, as I was accorded a mere nibble to taste on that evening. Above [top-bottom' l-r]: My little conundrum was very tall, this picture taken from near its base; and here with a long lens from the other side, quite a bit further away downriver; next 4 are assorted food stalls; gargantuan pork scratchings; Shan surveys the ultimate pintxos bar - in the fresh food market; stained glass roof and (art nouveau?" structure; an aerial view of part of the fresh food market with red umbrellas outside[5]. Walking tour of the Casco Viejo (Old town) The next morning we were expecting to go on a walking tour of the older parts of the city before moving on to check out the Guggenheim. This being Spain nothing happens too early and we were finished breakfasting around 9AM with time to kill for our 10AM start. Time to kill for a location that appeared to be pretty much adjacent to the river and the magnificent Erriberako merkatua (Fresh Food Market). All we had to do was look out for "the" red umbrella. We strolled around the stalls in which everything food-wise seemed to be bigger and better than anything we'd seen anywhere else in the world, including the ultimate pork scratchings that immediately brought our great friend and inspiration for this rail trip, David Janata (DJ), to mind. Come around 9:50 we thought we should look for a group and a red umbrella in the piazza outside. There was a group forming next to where someone was erecting red umbrellas. After a short while we asked the small crowd of people if they were the walking tour group and it turned out they weren't and they moved off towards a waiting bus. After another interval we asked the guy who was finishing off erecting the umbrellas if he was the group leader. He seemed a little irritated by the question and denied all knowledge of a walking tour. At 10:15 we rather irritatedly decided to abandon the idea of the tour and set off towards the Guggenheim along la Nervión's right bank (Orilla Derecha/Eskuineko ertza). We hadn't gone far, just around a gentle bend in the river, when we came apon a largish group of people gathered around a man with a furled red umbrella and spouting off about Bilbao's history. We hovered on the outskirts of the group for a minute or two and couldn't hear very much so decided to push on towards the Guggenheim on our own. Embracing the Guggenheim. Above [top-bottom, l-r]: Only in Bilbao - I don't know what it is and probably don't want to; attention to detail in the facade of the station across the river; a modern mingitorio[6]; quality modern architecture and Shan's view of the Zubizuri (bridge); Shan on the bridge, which swoops toward the gap between the two tower blocks[7]; the sculpture ‘Las Sirgueras’; the artwork on the underside of the Salbeko Bridge. Parallel handsome boulevards, purely for use for Active Travel[8], adorn both sides of the river as one strides from Bilbao's old town towards the world-esteemed gallery, built on reclaimed industrial land on what had been the edge of "town". The swooping sweeping White Bridge[9] is a fine example of how this urban restoration has been comprehensively thought through from both aesthetic and practical viewpoints and reinforces the seamless integration of this beautiful city. Given the input of the world renowned architects (such as Frank Gehry, Norman Foster, Zaha Hadid and Santiago Calatrava)[10] to Bilbao's city planning it is interesting to cast one's mind back to Baron Georges-Eugène Haussmann's massive urban renewal programme of new boulevards, parks and public works in Paris in the mid 19th century. It might be a lesser known "fact" that he was responsible for the large scale introduction of pissoirs[6] in his new street architecture. This was to lure Parisian men away from the city's walls. It is tempting to conject that one of the great and the good involved in the redesign of Bilbao was delivering a nod to Haussman with the urinal/pissoir that we noticed soon after heading off along Nervión's right bank. Having crossed the White Bridge, one'd be pretty hard hearted not to be affected by the Las Sirgueras sculpture by artist Dora Salazar, which pays tribute to the life of the "rope girls", women who towed vessels along the estuary using only a rope and their own strength. By the time you reach the Guggenheim itself it's almost as if you've reached another day in your discovery. The exterior, the smoke and water shenanigans and the intricate integration of the museum with the 1970s Salbeko Bridge, not to mention Louise Bourgeois's Maman[11], the almost 9m spider, and Jeff Koons's more than 13m Puppy[12]. and that's before you go inside which we very nearly didn't do ... Above [l-r, top-bottom]:The museum's complex structure is multi-faceted and extremely difficult to capture in one go - this first picture was caught while approaching the main building from upstream along the Nervión's Margen Izquierda having crossed the river shortly after abandoning our "tour"; Maman[11]; Looking upstream from downstream; Puppy[12] note the weed growing from more or less fox terrier tail position. Diving into the Guggenheim We'd walked up to the Guggenheim, walked past the Guggenheim, had elevenses staring at the Guggenheim, moped around Puppy ... "Should we try and go inside the museum?" I asked Shan tentatively ... I had neglected to buy advance tickets - there'd been so much to concentrate on organising the trip, it had slipped my mind! "I'd love to!" my spouse exclaimed. "Let's give it a go ..." both of us were already moving in the direction of the entrance to the building. Less than 10 minutes later we had cleared the entrance gates having paid a mere €27. Being completely venerable, my share of that had been €9. How the hell did we almost miss out on that opportunity through ignorance and or lack of initiative? One of the best times of our lives ensued. There's not much point trying to itemise in text what we saw, from the classics through avant-garde to completely wacky. The only possibility of conveying a smidgeon of our emotions will be to pick a few favourite exhibits Above [top-bottom, l-r]: from the inside looking upwards and out through the museum's structure; Richard Serra - the Matter of Time; Soft Shuttlecock - Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Brugge; Jenny Holzer - installation for Bilbao; Yayoi Kusama, Infinity Mirrored Room - A Wish for Human Happiness Calling From Beyond the Universe; part of El Anatsui's gigantic sculpture, Rising Sea, made from discarded liquor bottle tops; Andy Warhol's self portrait and Orange Disaster; 3 pictures from a major showing of the works of Martha Jungwirth; Yoshitomo Nara - My Drawing Room 2008, Bedroom Included. Joining the old to the new I have already enthused about the holistic approach that has been taken with the "de-industrialisation" of Bilbao. I honestly believe the only way to experience the visceral sensations it evokes, as opposed to the intellectual - all those venerable architects for starters, is to actually go there. As we walked back to the Plaza Nuevo for a well-earned bottle of Rioja and plate of pintxos, we felt something like panic to be leaving the next day. So it is goodbye from me and goodbye from her ... this was only the second stop in Spain and we'd already acknowledged we'd tried to embrace too much in a mere month. A slow return will be imminent. Anyone care to join us? Above [top 5]: The museum, bridge and landscaped boulevard, including a statue of Ramón Rubial Cavia, Spanish Socialist leader, blend together in seamless harmony; [next 2] complimented by the architecture across the Nervión; [bottom 1] the quiet local trains glide across a manicured lawn with the old and the new in the background; [bottom 2] providing a tranquil setting for wedding photos. Also ... afterword, perhaps I promise this entire Iberian series of blogs won't be a day-by-day, blow-by-blow account but just this once, in this special place, and lubricated by another bottle of lovely white Rioja, we were in a reflective mood as we spent our last evening in Bilbao's memorable Plaza Nueva. The thing is, these sweeping Spanish squares, however much they may or may not have grown out of bullfighting and accommodating the aficionados of old, they now provide a multi-faceted recreational home for Spaniards and their visitors. Young, old, families, friends and visitors all join together for an evening's entertainment (and even betterment), often in the fading sunshine and even when the weather is less clement. This evening on September 14 had everything and we exploited it to the full ...  Above [top-bottom, l-r]: we returned to the Plaza in the mid-afternoon to grab a quick lunch; possibly the most beautiful hair we'd ever seen; we were waylaid by a very friendly hen party while we were en route for a siesta; post siesta and the sun is sinking over the surrounding structures; 4 monochrome vignettes over the evening from intimate conversations to a philosophy lecture; Shan is lurking with intent, cellphone camera in hand; spot the result ... it involved new young friends sharing a nightcap and enthusing with me about what they were going to do the next day; quintessential Spain ... young boys and a football while their families intermingle, eat, drink and put the world to rights.
Coming Next We pick up a hire car for the next leg of our journey across Northern Spain. There were trains and buses but we were soon grasping that we might have over extended ourselves somewhat ... [Endnotes]:
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AuthorMark Harrison - making travelling an adventure Archives
September 2024
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