to Bilbao

Suddenly we were in Spain.

It was as abrupt as that. Not that our arrival in Spain was unintended, but it was certainly unheralded. No passport control, no "Welcome to Spain" signs, just a sudden change in the style of the traffic lights and the languages on the signs becoming Spanish and the unintelligible Euskara. It was an abruptness that we found elsewhere in the Euskal Herria, or Basque Country, most obviously in the landscape, with there seeming no middle ground between mountain and sea, or countryside and town, the coast road to Bilbao perching on the narrowest of passages between towering, forested hills and the heaving Atlantic which even on this calm, sunny day breached the sea defenses at one point to give Sheena a good drenching. Goodness knows what the road is like on a stormy day.

Bilbao caught us by surprise. Suddenly we were there, an urban sprawl surrounded by peaks and hills, offering us no sense of location. We were so surprised that we hadn't had time to properly look over the directions given to us by Miguel and Beatriz, our hosts for the evening, and so promptly got lost and it took us a stressful hour to find our way back out of Bilbao and take another run at things. In the gloomy rain that had now descended, matched by our moods, Bilbao was looking far from attractive. However Miguel's directions turned out to be perfect, and he and Beatriz were superb hosts, as we sat around their kitchen sharing food and wine, attempting to communicate - Miguel spoke pretty decent English but as Beatriz didn't, and our Spanish is infantile as best, it was Miguel who did most of the talking!

After a good night's sleep Bilbao was looking more attractive in the bright sunshine of the next morning. Armed with Miguel's advice, we ventured into the city and found the stunning Guggenheim Museum, which definitely lives up to its hype; a row of beautiful bridges linked by a pleasant riverside promenade; a lovely old town full of gorgeous, balconied buildings and a score of May Day demos and marches.
In the afternoon we headed out to the coast, to be treated to more spectacular views of forested slopes crashing into the ocean as we puffed our way up winding mountain roads. We finished up at Gernika, the heart of the Euskla Herria, the site of the Basque Parliament and of the atrocities which heralded the advent of carpet bombing civilian targets when Hilter's Condor squadron practically destroyed the town during the Spanish Civil War. Then, after a siesta, a gentle drive back to another very warm welcome from Miguel and Beatriz, and an evening spent sharing beer and photos.

So definitely worth the stress of getting here.