Lost in Translation: After struggling to find lodging under €200/night in San Sebastián, we expanded our search and landed an Airbnb...in France. I didn't realize how close this northern Spanish city is to the border of France, but the local transit system connects the city center to the outlying French town of Hendaye. After we arrived on an overnight bus from Madrid we stumbled into a French café for a bite to eat. Our semi-sleepless night on the bus coupled with a recent trip to Italy meant that we were perplexed by someone speaking to us in a language that was neither Spanish nor English. As is so often the case, the purveyor of the restaurant acknowledged almost immediately that we didn't understand anything coming out of her mouth. The woman switched to English, and after ordering I proudly uttered "grazie." It wasn't until I was sitting down and staring at a newscast about French politics that I realized my seemingly polite effort to blend in was simply tone deaf in another language. Other than this mishap, we were mostly in Spanish territory and faked it well enough to be passable.
On a language related note, it was intriguing to be in the Basque Country and see signs in Spanish and Basque. This ancient language doesn't have any clear connection to other romance languages, and thus bears no resemblance to Spanish. Similar to being in Catalonia, our time in San Sebastián and Bilbao did feel a little like being in a country separate from Spain. Despite this, many people spoke either English or Spanish or both and we had no major issues communicating.
Exploring the City:
This week was comprised primarily of travel outside of Madrid, as May 1st and 2nd were national and regional holidays that afforded us time to explore. Our general target area was the northern coast of Spain. Here is a rundown of our time in each city:
San Sebastián
This beautiful coastal town is a stunning mixture of beach and greenery. It was perhaps the coldest place we visited in the morning, but by midday the weather was cooperative enough for us to fit in a nap on the lawn of Miramar Palace.
The brisk morning air didn't prevent youth soccer league from playing...and on the beach, for that matter!
We rode a rather rickety funicular that appeared every bit as old as the signage proclaimed (2012 was the centennial of operating on the cliff side) to the top of a mountain with gorgeous views of both the beach below and the city stretching out into the lush hills.
After descending the mountain, we gathered our courage and set about dipping our toes in the water. Typically when you gradually slide into an apparently chilly body of water, your skin acclimates and eventually it becomes clear that the temperature can be chalked up to the mixture of literally having one foot in water and one foot on land. Not so with the Bay of Biscay. It was some of the coldest water I've ever felt, and each tiny wave crashing around our ankles sent a chill shimmering down my spine.
It was fun walking the streets of the city, peeking into stores where we could barely afford to window shop as well as boutiques with curiously overpriced apparel from a certain region of the United States.
Bilbao
Saturday's cold gave way to a very rainy Sunday, when we embarked on a regional transport train that took us to the largest urban space in Basque country. Bilbao is nestled in the hills and on/across a river. It's most famous architectural feature is probably the futuristic Guggenheim museum of modern art, and it is a strange and wonderful building to behold. But we also found a lot of other attractive sites as well, including a cultural center with a glass-bottomed swimming pool, a long winding bridge, a spacious river promenade, and the narrow streets of the old town.
You can see the people swimming through the bottom of the swimming pool, very high in the ceiling!
Unfortunately the whole day was rather dreary, greatly if unfairly diminishing our enjoyment of this objectively cool town. While it once leaned quite heavily on industrial factories, the town is now much more of a cultural center. It also contains a large amount of Michelin star restaurants, though our natural inclination to maintain a shoe-string budget prevented us from sampling the highly touted cuisine. Ironically we had our memorable meal of the week in Bilbao, albeit one that deviated from anything very local.
Oviedo
Monday happened to be both the most beautiful day of weather on our trip, and the day during which we spent the most daylight riding on a bus. Thankfully the scenery as we traveled west to the Asturias region afforded us even more views of rolling green hills juxtaposed with rocky coastal beaches. Our bus had a selection of movies, and we really enjoyed watching Futbolín (literally Foosball, though the English title is Underdogs) between jaw-dropping glances at the scenery. Once landed in Oviedo, we made the best of our remaining daylight. First came a stop at a sidrería outside our Airbnb. This type of establishment is essentially a café that specializes in drink called sidra - a much more vinegary and watery version of hard cider in the US. Then we walked through the town spotting various statues of local Oviedons, animated children's show character Mafalda, and even Woody Allen (who is exceedingly popular in Spain).
After powering up at a Joni-friendly café specializing in smoothies, we started a long hike that would lead us to Jesus. Yes, we climbed up and up until we ascended to the platform containing a large statue of Jesus overlooking the valley below. The sun illuminated the city and surrounding greenery that led Joni to comment "This looks like the setting of a storybook." Our route was a little unconventional, as we opted for the makeshift bramble-filled path over the (much less direct) paved road. Along the way we encountered a shower, a pre-Romanesque church, cows chilling with trap music, and the business end of some loose earth that left Joni sore for several days hence. It was a wonderful day that culminated in paella, local cheese and a giant plate of cooked vegetables with Romesco sauce.
Look closely and you can see the Jesus statue at the top of the mountain. It was quite a trek.
Gijón
Our final morning and afternoon was spent hustling to the oh-so-fun to pronounce Gijón (hee-HOne). A mere 30 minutes bus ride north of Oviedo, this seaside city reminded us of a colder version of San Juan. Large waves created an ample canvas for surfers looking to shred (despite what I assume were waters of equal frigidity to San Sebastián), and a picturesque boardwalk lined the portion of the town's shore not reserved for ships to dock.
We spent our time here winding along a path hugging the coast, deviating for some gelato that we took to a nearby park. Post-ice-cream we found a section of dry grass and got straight to napping. Upon waking, a haze of screaming children and screeching birds (sounds that, at times, are impossible to distinguish from one another) we discovered that there was a full-blown menagerie adjacent to a playground containing many adult-sized attractions. Further strolling lead us to the Gijón fútbol stadium (the oldest active grounds in Spain) and on the way we ran into a half-dozen peacocks. Definitely not what I expected, but pretty cool!
Several people had told us that this city (larger than Oviedo but not as well known) was more industrial and thus not as worthy of our time as other smaller hamlets and shires dotting the coast and mountains. It certainly had a more modern feel than some of the other cities we've visited, but there was a certain authentic charm that this endeared Gijón to me. The lunch we had there - a robust menú del dia at an Italian restaurant - certainly didn't hurt my opinion of the port town!
Memorable Meal: While that pizza/pasta/bread menú in Gijón was quite delicious, our memorable meal this week has to be from the Thai restaurant where we dined in Bilbao. Joni and I shared dumplings and an order of yellow curried chicken rice, and while these were both delicious the real star of the meal was the atmosphere. We've become accustomed to squeezing into cramped cafeterias and traditional restaurants with rather abrasive lighting, so much so that I barely remembered what it was like to visit an establishment with lighting as low as the dining room is cavernous. After ducking in from the rain, a waitress guided us through a darkened corridor past a large area of diners, back into secondary space holding individually spotlit tables. Oh, and the bathrooms were clean, amply stocked with toilet paper, and freshly painted. I'm sure there are many eateries in Madrid that satisfy these relatively minuscule standards, but we have largely managed to avoid such places.
Final Notes: Time is ticking, and we have taken note of this. In just under 2 months we will bid our visitors adieu and begin our journey back to the United States. At press time, no major developments have broken on a) jobs, b) a home/destination for our return or c) an exact date of departure. While we struggle to cram in every last minute of enjoyment into our Spanish lives, our minds have begun the slow churn of planning for the future. This seemed so urgent before our adventure began, and we had every possible detail set 6 months before setting foot on the peninsula. Maybe it’s the slower pace of living, or the nature of our weekend trips that are launched with increasingly little notice, but some days it seems like everything will fall into place when the time is right. Other days, of course, we feel woefully under-prepared and grasp for direction as July draws closer. All that to say, I think we’ve struck a decent balance of worrying and enjoyment. Here’s hoping fruitless hand-wringing stays at a minimum as we relish our remaining días en España.
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