Bilbao: You Couldn’t Basque for Anything More

Bilbao

The first thing we noticed in the bright and shiny modern Bilbao airport, apart from nicely-dressed passengers deplaning there alongside us, was the first language that appeared on the signage. “That’s not Spanish,” I said to Sophie, “Too many Xs”. My research about Bilbao, insensitively consisting of Googling “Bilbao?” had suggested that Euskadi was a language we would encounter, but I hadn’t realized that we would encounter it to this extent. My first reaction was disappointment, I had thoroughly enjoyed practicing my Spanish in Sevilla and was afraid I wouldn’t have a chance to in Bilbao. Turns out that fear was unfounded. Everyone in Bilbao speaks Spanish, but the will to bring back the Euskadi language, which was much damaged by its prohibition during the Franco years, is strong. As our Airbnb host explained, the language is being encouraged so that the cultural roots of the Basque people can be celebrated. “In twenty years or so,” he told us,”the kids who are learning it in school now will grow up and there will be many more speakers.”

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The Basque people, like the Galicians and Catalonians, are constantly seeking independence because of their cultural and linguistic differences

The language itself is very interesting, belonging to its own linguistic group separate from any other language. After a long period of cultural repression, disdain seems to have given way to a profound cultural pride, such energy that is exhibited in all its glory in events like Aste Nagusia (the celebration in Bilbao of the Assumption of Mary). From an outside perspective, the festival might appear to be a drinking competition, but with some insight our understanding of the festival was expanded to a drinking competition that is broken into local chapters and groups called cuadrillas.

Folk band marching through the Casco Viejo

Folk band marching through the Casco Viejo

It was an excellent circumstance under which to visit the city, because I think we were given a window into the soul of the city, its excesses, its identity politics, and its local pride exhibited. Bilbao was an industrial capital, before its spirit rose like a phoenix from rusted factories to become a cultural capital, site of the modern art exhibiting Guggenheim museum, and a number of other modernist experiments in architecture and cultural expression. The confluence of the modern and ancient cities doesn’t create the clash you might expect, instead it provides just the right mix of both to provide a visitor with the convenience of modern comfort and all the mystery of old world Europe.

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People watch a folk dance as part of the Aste Nagusia festival in the Plaza Nueva

The Casco Viejo, the old neighborhood, was where we stayed and it is overflowing with character. It was the epicenter of the Aste Nagusia festival with folk dancing taking place in the Plaza Nueva five minutes away and traditional pipe bands marching down the street at odd intervals. The only truly uncomfortable part of the festival was the hour long fireworks show that commenced every night at 10:30 and literally rattled the windows of our accommodation. The endurance of the festival-goers was inspiring, some of them coming home from the festivities at 6 or 7 am just as we were having our morning coffee.

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The Casco Viejo is the old town in Bilbao. Great place to eat and wander aimlessly

 

‘Pinxtos’

In Bilbao, the food is also a part of the culture that has been positively affected by the cultural revolution. “Pinxtos” as they are called, are the answer to the rest of Iberia’s tapas, it means a “pinch” though the portions are usually more generous. Like clockwork every night the denizens of Bilbao swarm into the pinxtos bars and consume an outrageous amount of decadently rich, gout-inducing bites of tempura-fried and bread-laden goodness. If there’s any modern art worth seeing (read: tasting) in Bilbao, it’s these little delights. My shortlist of candidates for a tasting was pulled from a number of sources and they did not disappoint, with few exceptions.

Fishy bites at El Globo

Fishy bites at El Globo

El Globo: Good

El Globo is like a frenetic food auction. The experience trumps the food, though the food is certainly good. Despite the crowd, there is ample space at the tiny bars to stand and wolf down your tapas. Figuring out what to order is the challenge. Long rows of various delectable meats, cheeses, and seafood creations are lined along both bars. This establishment is a good place to practice shouting your Spanish, they don’t appear to understand English which made it an enjoyable challenge trying to describe obscure foods, many of which have completely different names than the ones we’ve learned. The best dishes here have something pickled on them, which seems to be their emphasis.

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An exotic mix of pinxtos

Panko: Good

Panko is, as the name suggests, a celebration of bread and more succinctly, things fried in breadcrumbs. Their selection of wines and pinxtos added variety to our evening, and the prices are very reasonable. The mushroom croqueta was delicious and like all of their pinxtos, atop a piece of bread.

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The pinxtos selection at El Huevo Frito

El Huevo Frito: El Mejor (the best)

Easily the best place we ate in all of our time in Spain. Each exquisite bite was adorned with a quail egg, so imagine that with a perfect bit of roasted duck and a raspberry compote on top of a toasty nibble of bread. In hindsight, we could have eaten here every night. I told the woman who helped us that it was our favorite place in the city we had eaten and she beamed at us proudly. Judging by the crowd, the locals like this place as well.

Bar Charly: Disappointment

This bar was too hipster for us even to enter. The cool kids were there and we got nervous and left. The food looked fine, but the prices were too high compared with the rest of the places and shit was just getting too artisenal. This was in Plaza Nueva, which was as beautiful as it was difficult to find.

Gure Toki: Not for us

If Bar Charly had all the hipsters, this place had the yuppies. While the food was too experimental for us to even include in our pinxtos tour, I have to give them an A for aesthetics, the liquid nitrogen-infused tuna eyeball on gluten-free toast looked incredible (pun intended!).

Victor Montes: Just ok

Traditional, uncomplicated pinxtos in Plaza Nueva. While the food can’t be technically faulted, the ambiance as stuffy and the staff was rude, like so rude they threw our change on the ground.

Life Beyond Food

Enough with the food, Bilbao has much more to offer. For an enchanting walk, look no further than a stroll that begins in the Casco Viejo and terminates by the Guggenheim. Wind around through a few of the ancient streets and eventually you’ll arrive at the river with your choice of bridge. I recommend the super modern footbridge that will surely remind you of the Millenium Bridge in London.

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Outside the Guggenheim, a dog was covered in flowers

The city is incredibly pedestrian friendly and simple to navigate. Along the walk you’ll witness an incredible variety of architecture, from the very old to the very hideous former council flats now chic apartments to the just-put-up-yesterday corporate high rise.

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View from the river side of the Guggenheim Museum

For a quick jaunt outside the city, take public transport out to the coast Bidezabal. A lovely walk is only 30 minutes from the city and Bilbao’s public transport is disturbingly clean and quiet. The coast is beautiful (once you escape the industrial side of the mouth of the river) and you can enjoy watching paragliders tempt fate above the rocky cliffs.

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A sportsman parasailing on the beautiful Basque coast near an abandoned bunker

Pamplona

Beyond Bilbao, we spent some time in Pamplona and took a day trip to ritzy San Sebastian. We (sensibly) visited Pamplona after the San Fermin running of the bulls to appreciate the feel of a small, calm city. Our Airbnb apartment was five stories up a rickety building with a few hundred years of history. The windows overlooked the cobbled streets of the bulls run and the smell of dark chocolate garrotes wafted up from the ground floor bakery, Pastelería Beatriz Pamplona.

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View of the cathedral in Pamplona

While this city isn’t overflowing with activities for tourists, we kept ourselves occupied by listening to live flamenco during the Flamenco on Fire festival and by ambling around the ornate cathedral with a trippy museum display basically spelling out humanity’s doom. Our hostess provided us with a long list of restaurant and tapas bar recommendations which we sampled. One of the most interesting bites we had was sea urchin chowder served in it’s spiny shell.

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While we had a nice, relaxing time in Pamplona, it may be the sort of place you only visit for a night or two if you don’t have any concrete plans. During the off season, the tourist attractions are minimal and the hours kept by shop keepers are limited. Nevertheless, if you want to experience a bit of Navarra’s culture, Pamplona is gorgeous and friendly.

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A collection of creepy religious artifacts in the Pamplona Cathedral

San Sebastian

San Sebastian, notorious for it’s upper class appeal, was a treat to visit (but assuredly too expensive to live in). We took an ALSA bus early one morning from Bilbao and arrived into San Sebastian before all of the billionaires recovered from their caviar-induced hangovers. We found coffee and pastries at a friendly cafe near the river and made our way over to the oldest part of the city near the beach.

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“Regatta gala” at the harbor in San Sebastian

There is an excellent walk we took up to the castle and statue of Jesus set high up on a hill overlooking the town. Along the way there are excellent vantage points to spot swaths of yachts and the mountains in the distance. To cool off, we waded into the surf down along the shore and were amazed with how clear and refreshing (but not cold) the water was. If we didn’t have another bus ride later in the day, we surely would have thrown ourselves into the calm water for a few sunny hours.

 

 

We’ll definitely be dreaming of this beach in January. Ah, the but the dream had to end, so we hopped on a train to Madrid and bid goodbye to the North of Spain.

-Brian & Sophie

Life on the Lincoln Line

What we’ve been doing

At the end of May we quit our jobs to pursue a few months of travel before relocating to South America. So, what have we been doing with ourselves in the meantime you might ask. Well, we’ve been busy.

Some of us (specifically Sophie) have continued working part-time, while the rest of us have tried hard to be productive (after a few days of severe laziness) pursuing different projects.

The first project was ‘movin’ out’ (actually Sophie kind of did that). That was a project! Look at our stuff.

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A studio compacted into a minivan. Basically like the movie Inception, but without dreams.

 

But before all that, we’re doing what normal unemployed people do. Go see our Moms.

Staying out of the Media

Before heading out to the old midwest to visit the farmstead, we spent a bit of time in Media, Pennsylvania (“the first Fair Trade town in America”), near where Sophie was raised. I make a lot of jokes about the town, comparing it to Mayberry from the Andy Griffith Show. Personally, she prefers to compare it to Stars Hollow from Gilmore Girls, but then Lorelei and Rory would have to live there, and from what I’ve seen, Media doesn’t have that much drama or coffee.

The town is absurdly cute. I mean, it has a trolley for God’s sake, an actual working trolley… Seriously? It’s too much. In the summer time, they also have a weekly event in which all the restaurants in town bring their tables out on the street and there is live music, while patrons enjoy dining al fresco. One of the restaurants is Sher-E-Punjab, serves the best Indian food I’ve ever had — even better than the food in actual India. All in all, Media is not too bad, despite it’s made-for-tv quality.

The subdivision of the towns around Media makes no sense. A long time ago it was (or was adjacent to… or something blah blah) a parcel owned by William Penn and so everywhere you go you’re entering a new township like “Wooded Way” or “Squishy Hill” or “Elegant Bustle”. Apart from relaxing a bit after quitting the old 7 to 6, we’ve started running on a more regular basis. At first we ran at the local track, but Sophie got bored of running in circles since she’s not a hamster, so we tried a nearby park run by the Natural Land Trust, Hildacy Farms Preserve, that was once a grant from William Penn to a local farmer. Penn described it as, “Lovely, and without defect, excepting perhaps the occasional ruckus from thy local suburban traffic, but rar[e]ly do these noises impede the natural beauty of the various waterfo[w]l.” Well, it is lovely. It’s a nice place to jog or walk around, and the best part is that it’s completely empty.

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Hildacy Farms Preserve, which William Penn thought had good Water Fowl, if you know what I mean… birds that swim.

The “luxurious” Lincoln Line

Do you like to travel in style? Do you like to arrive on time? Do you like to take the scenic route? Well we can get you from swell Philadelphia to jazzy St. Louis in a jiff.

Friends, have I got the deal for you! Instead of taking that inconvenient, overpriced 30 min flight from Chicago to Saint Louis, why not arrive in style on Amtrak? And all it will set you back is 25 greenbacks (or as we call them in Illinois — U.S. Dollars).

Of course, we had the added fortune to first enjoy the luxury of Megabus. If you’ve never been on Megabus, well, Buster, you haven’t known luxury! Their state-of-the-junk fleet is made up of plush seated two-decker buses with air conditioning and intermittently functional wi-fi. If you like playing the odds, you could get lucky and the power outlet in your seat might actually work—as a flotation device. We got the ‘early bird’ 6:00 AM Megabus and it was markedly less homicidal than your average Megabus journey with <0.01 death threats per average journey hour and all for $5! That’s what I call value.

Our driver kept us well abreast of any traffic delays and informed us of the safety and security rules for Megabus (it was the first time a driver has mentioned them on our quintillion Megabus journeys). He also gave a running commentary on hovercraft devices he would like some ‘silicon-valley type’ to invent to circumvent traffic in the Lincoln Tunnel. Bill, you joker!

Ah, after arriving refreshed from our slightly delayed bus, we stopped in to the Whole Foods for a coffee. Why? Who knows, we were operating on less than 4 hours sleep, hard to tell where the decision-making came from. Then, it was on to the the clean and punctual New York Subway system. With on-time arrival rates hovering around 5%, it is known as one of the most ‘fashionably late’ transit systems in the world.

The subway doesn’t go directly to La Guardia, that’s a level of convenience that would confuse the good people of New York, so instead, the subway takes the passenger to a bus which then takes you to the airport. The logic is strange, but in the alternate reality of New York City, it must make sense…

We arrived at our departure gate at La Guardia like responsible travelers two hours before our flight. So we ate an entire bag of Pirate’s Booty like irresponsible adults. There we were, enjoying our cheesy, carby breakfast when all the sudden it was time to board our flight, no problem.

“Great!” I thought, “Maybe I’ll get to take a United flight that doesn’t leave me stranded in an airport overnight.”

As we taxied, Sophie and I rested easy that the plane was on the runway and was therefore as good as in the air.

“Haha,” thought United, we fooled him again.

“Um, folks we’re having trouble with the A/C, we’re going to head back to the terminal to get it fixed, should be headed out shortly.”

We sat uncomfortably, sweating for some time in the overheating plane. Then we got off the plane when it was clear that the elderly and children might faint. We waited in a really long customer support line before United put us on another plane leaving in 7.5 minutes. Well that seemed like a nice fix for us. Until that plane was delayed because the pilot got lost in the airport… for 40 mins. We were dangerously close to missing our train in Chicago. But, wonder of wonders, the pilot arrived (he must have found his map) and we took off finally!

As we approached O’Hare, the pilot got on the intercom, “Folks, sorry to tell you, because of the atmospheric chop we’re in line to land, but we might have to circle.” Atmospheric chop sounds like a new type of salad at a NYC restaurant. Mmmmm.

Despite the hilarious and good-natured attempts by United Airlines to thwart us, and thanks to my absurd ‘Maverick-style’ planning, (leaving a good 5 hours between connections) we made it to the Amtrak in Union Station via the ‘L’ train in Chicago just in time to grab on to the back rail and doff our fedoras.

Well, we had made it to the final mode of transportation that day (if you don’t count cars, THANKS MOMS!) and so we relaxed on our crusty train seat with a crusty slice from Beggar’s pizza we grabbed racing into Union Station. I cannot recommend their style of pizza, though I am sure it’s very popular in Chicago. It tasted similar to eating a piece of cardboard dipped in old nacho cheese from Wrigley stadium that has been “aged” to release the nauseating aroma of “old, frustrated, and wet dog that got into the sauerkraut” smell. I understand it is very popular with a segment of the population in Chicago: the ‘people with no time to get anything not directly across from the train station because United delayed their plane multiple times in one day’ crowd. #Disunitedairlines

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We got some good views from the train of a huge thunderstorm system, though this one was taken on the old farmstead

 

Riding across Illinois on the Lincoln Line Amtrak train, well, it was simply living life right, this quick 5 hour train ride to Alton, IL. The same route Abraham Lincoln (apparently) took on his way to get a sandwich or something. AND the wi-fi worked!

And finally, we arrived at the old farmstead.

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Beautiful weather in Southern Illinois

 

Life on the old farmstead

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Sophie got in the middle of my “tree picture”

 

Well, it’s all killing beetles and pruning fruit trees. Truly. Turns out the Japanese beetles got here before us (maybe they took the direct flight from Chicago – big spenders) and they really like to eat the peaches, grapes, blueberries, and black raspberries that grow around here. Not to mention they swarm around and bump you in the face constantly.

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Sophie tried to get in this picture, but she can’t jump that high

 

I searched high and Lowe’s for beetle bait, but every store was sold out. So, I did what any man would do when facing a beetle crisis. I resorted to Wal-Mart.

Sophie and I ventured there yesterday, I admit, a bit fascinated and a bit ashamed, like going to Las Vegas. But I was smart (I thought) by ordering my beetle traps ahead of time for a quick pick up, knowing that by the time we got to the store they would have sold out of beetle traps and would only have the Beatles lesser-known album Traps left. But, since we arrived early, I went to look for the trap myself, rather than wait an hour until the estimated pickup time. If you haven’t been to Wal-Mart friends, you’re in for a surprise. Their stores are seemingly organized by obscure inside-joke themes like “Barbecued Graduation Pet” or “My First Antelope Hunting Holiday”. So, naturally I had a hard time finding what I was looking for. Would it be by the “Wasp Getaway” or the “Roach Deluxe Motel”?

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A more helpful insect inhabitant who, unfortunately, hasn’t yet developed a taste for beetle.

 

In the end, the fulfillment person for the online order confronted me, fearing that I would snag the last beetle trap, before realizing I was the customer for whom she was seeking the baited trap. After confirming that I didn’t want the Traps album, she told me she actually couldn’t find the product for which I had already paid. She called an assistant manager. They admitted that they were confused by the store’s organization and proceeded to search every shelf in the Garden area. Finally, the AM saw it on a top storage shelf above the fire pits and ordered one of her minions, Karl or Bruno I think, to get a ladder. She climbed up and tore open the box and threw down two badly misshapen beetle traps. $4.87 a pop. “You care if they smashed?” She asked.

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A Japanese beetle is eating some grape leaves. Apparently they love dolmades too.

 

Besides scooping stray beetles into soapy water, picking blueberries, and mowing running trails, we’ve been enjoying the constant noise Oliver, the preening rooster, makes at 4AM, the relaxing sound of the crickets, owls, and the Wendigo, and the intermittent scattering of gunfire and explosions compliments of the Jones’ rebel base camp across the field.

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Wild black raspberries ripening

 

All in all, it has been very relaxing here in Illinois. We’ve been searching for a companion for Pumpkin, our friendly, but somewhat cowardly dog. Since her buddy Beatrice died, she has been lonely and lethargin’, so we’ll be getting a puppy soon to keep her company and to care for the secret dog treasure (consisting of deer leg bones and skull fragments) that has been hoarded since the first farm dog set foot in these lands.

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Pumpkin is official Dog Treasurer on the old farmstead.

 

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Sophie in her “farm chic” outfit picking raspberries

We also had to visit Ted Drewe’s to show a guest the #1 best ice cream place in the world. Except, apparently it’s custard, not ice cream because it has eggs in it. Oh, that reminds me, another thing we’ve been doing. Collecting and eating a lot of eggs. Any good recipe recommendations that use between 30-40 eggs at a time?

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#1 Ice cream fan with #1 ice cream in the world!

 

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A blurry bridal party got right in the middle of my “sign” picture, guess the bride wanted to spend her special day with Ted.

 

Farm stats:

Beetle count: Approximately 475

Egg count: 90

-Brian