Galician and Basque - the great scrabble conspiracy

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The sudden change to dual names on the 'next station' display on the evening train from Santander to Bilbao marks the transition to the Basque country, well that and Frank Sinatra being piped through the carriage speakers for some reason. It appears that the Basque and Galician languages are both based on the premise of crow-barring as many random Zs, Ks and particularly Xs (and that's a whole 10pts...) into any otherwise perfectly pronouceable word.

Before leaving Santander I gave my trusty umbrella an appropriate burial in a convenient bin - it served me well but had become a bit twisted and was trying to pull chunks of hair out if I let it get too close to my head. Almost came to regret it seeing the streets shiny with water as the train pulled in to Bilbao but thankfully the worst had passed and I made it to the pensione ok. Bilbao is an real jumble, attractive turn of the century an art deco buildings mixed with the brutal flats of the citys industrial past and everywhere you look armies of cranes throwing up some ambitious new buildings as this is very much a town on the up.

The next morning was the Guggenheim - I don't think I need to go too far into the details for something so well known, suffice to say it was even more impressive than I imagined and the contents ranged from the interesting to the barking - well worth several hours wandering. In the afternoon the weather perked up and I caught the funicular up Artxanda hill, a great view over the city but it didn't take more than a few minutes for the sky to come up with a bit more water to throw at me. Apart from the views there wasn't much reason to hang about but I did glimpse a British red telephone box in one garden.

I headed up to Guernica on friday - mainly known for the destruction of the town by Nazi bombers during the civil war, a terrible event and forerunner to the bombing of civilian populations that both the Axis and Allies would become so adept at a few years later. Apart from a few small sections of the town that survived, the post-war rebuilding has left the place a rather bland provincial town. However the fascinating and well laid out 'Museum of Peace' provided an excellent reason for the visit - managing to cover the bombing, Basque independence and a more general look at peace in what is quite a modest (but modern) space.

Back in Bilbao the streets were an absolute madhouse, it being spring carnival weekend. The old town was jam packed with hundreds of primary school age kids tottering around in all just about every bit of fancy dress possible - spidermen and ladybirds, pirates, robin hoods and witches thronged the streets while toy weapons seemed to be popular too - I saw snow-white with numchukas at one point. I headed up town looking for a restuarant, but I'm still struggling with a sort of cultural jet-lag: The locals don't generally eat before 10pm which is something of a shock when you've been living on 6am-6pm shifts and going to bed at 9pm for the previous month - so every place I looked at was absolutely empty. Eventually I bit the bullet and got myself a table, people passing doing a double take at the crazy foreigner eating at only 9.30pm... Nice food too, but the starter would have suited three people as a main course.....! Finally it was on to a salsa club and lots of pretty Spanish girls... 😉

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Photos

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The Guggenheim (more familiar angle)

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The Guggenheim

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Bilbao from Artxanda Hill