Caixo! (hola en Vasco)

Bilbao. An adventure in itself.

6 p.m. arrived and I got out of my bed in Logroño for the second time of the day. The painful residue constructed from the night before's activities had held me prisoner in my own house for a slow recovery, but nothing was going to stop me from diving head first into the Basque country that weekend. A quick scoot down the road on the bike and 25€ later, I had a return trip ticket situation to Bilbao for 3 days. Poorly preparing for my quick departure, a pillow, random clothes that served for decent warmth, and no toothbrush ( I know mom, I should know better by now) made their way into my bag and onto a bus within 30 minutes.

Bilbao is a wonderfully quick 1.5 hours away, and a terrifying 4 degrees Celsius colder. My friends Carly and Tammy met me at the bus station of the Basque capital city and took me back to their cozy apartment in the Casco Viejo. Prior to arriving in Bilbao, I had heard some negative chatter about it being a strange collaboration of medieval neighborhoods and horrifying industrial zones, but my impression was swayed for the better since Carly and Tammy live in the beautiful old section; they even had a steaming pot of chili prepared that was ALMOST comparable to my moms'. Needless to say, it was super rica and I had quite a few helpings of it. The Casco Viejo is placed around the Nervión river and boasts Gothic churches and interesting apartment buildings. Since the majority of gossipers had hinted that Bilbao was not a very pleasing place, I was astounded by its beauty and enjoyed every minute of my time in the streets.

The Ribiera market has some of the freshest seafood, meats, veggies and fruits in the region and is currently under construction to extend itself by about 2 times its current size. It was an interesting dark sulfuric yellow, and the new editions are set to be brick red and an azure blue. Just around the corner from the girls' house is the local theater, plaza nueva, and a never-ending maze of tapas bars and restaurants - most of which specialize in bacalao(codfish) tapas, or as they are called here, pinchos. We followed the bending river through the city and ran into the Guggenheim Museum which is a work of art in its own architectural right. Since I am going to return to Bilbao at a later date, we did not enter, but rather marveled at the metallic structure from outside and pondered its structural integrity. Just a few blocks from the museum is the city center called Greater Bilbao, where the streets are lined with name-brand stores and large buildings and impressive plazas. To get back home, we took an exquisitely quiet, electric "street car" that ran on tracks placed in verdant green grass, back to the casco viejo for a rest. The next day was to be carnaval, so the streets were dead and it was a bit eerie walking along the medieval metropolis' streets at 2a.m. without seeing anyone. They were all hibernating for the insanity that was to follow the next day.

Carnaval... Supposedly it is supposed to be the celebration of Lent, but who knows what people are thinking when they take it upon themselves to absolutely lose their minds on purpose. Parades, disguises, outfits, groups of people collectively dressed as super heroes, Harlem Globetrotters, or mimes were just a few of the wilds antics thrown into a huge mixing pot of Basque, Spanish, and foreigners in Bilbao. The celebration takes place all over Europe, but I happened to spend it in Bilbao. I bought a harlequinish jesterish hat, painted my face (poorly I might add), and wore a pair of entirely way too dark sunglasses out into the night. We partied with friends, half of them didn't make it out of their apartment, and we hit the freezing cold streets with the rest of the crazies. Photos exist to document the insanity, and I have video of an extensive parade where bands played on the backs of trucks as they went down the streets, children and adults alike wore wild outfits while demonstrating all sorts of ant-government, pro-gay, and completely erroneous representations. It was truly a good time, and the next day was devoted to relaxation and recovery. Before getting on a night bus back to Logroño, Carly, Tammy and myself went to see some traditional Basque dance and music in a large tent they had erected in plaza nueva. The dances reminded me of the Russian dances in the Nutcracker, with deft old-school crip walks and ankle tapping. The music was fueled by pipes, a small snare drum, and a violin. At one point, the dancers approached a small glass of wine, nimbly hopping about the glass without disturbing its´ presence, and then mounting the precipice of its´s rim with flat feet... One guy toating some silly boat dress slipped on the glass and fell pretty hard, spilling the wine everywhere, which was immediately followed by many frightened Basque WOAHS!!!

Before leaving, I tried some more pinchos. One was called ¨croquetas de txipis en su tinta¨ which was a croquet that had squid ink added into the batter, and really looked quite disgusting, but was delicious. Another was some kind of fried crabmeat with jelly on top. This was a strange collaboration to say the least. After filling myself up, the girls showed me to flashy metro system, and I headed through the tubes to the bus station. Frantically running around looking for my bus, I had to change my ticket, find my seat, sit calmly, listen to Spanish radio on my phone for the short duration of the trip back to Logroño, and be overjoyed to recount my silly weekend with Marta.

Oh how celebrating things for Jesus can be fun.

Agur! (adios en Vasco)