Playing Catch-up (Part X)

So, after about fifteen minutes of wandering around the bus station looking for Tamara, I suddenly spotted a very familiar face walking towards me. I gave her a hug, and then she introduced me to her parents, who gave both Bonnie and I the traditional European kiss-on-both-cheeks greeting. Then we got in their car and drove to their flat, which was about 15 minutes from the city centre in a largely residential neighborhood. I was really surprised at the spaciousness of their flat; they have a small kitchen/dining area, a decent sized living room with another dining table, a master bedroom with its own bathroom, Tamara’s bedroom, a guest bedroom with two beds, and another bathroom. There was construction going on outside their building, so their computer, which is usually located in a sort of porch area, was moved into the living room. After Bonnie and I had made ourselves at home in the guest bedroom (which was adorable; the two brass beds had white lace covers all decorated with pink ribbons), Tamara’s mum made us dinner, which I think was oven pizza and yogurt and fruit. Afterwards, we just sort of chilled and watched Spanish music videos, which are, by the way, highly amusing. That was pretty much our nightly routine for the remainder of our stay.

The next day, we awoke refreshed and Tamara’s mum had breakfast ready for us – croissants, jam, butter, fruit, yogurt, juice, and a pot of warm milk on the stove for our Coca Cao, which is basically a hot chocolate mix that Tamara says she drinks every morning. It was so weird being fed like that; we’re used to fending for ourselves and making rather sparse meals, so this week was really wonderful in that respect. Afterwards, we took the metro into the city and went to the imposing-looking Guggenheim. First we spent fifteen minutes walking around it and marveling at the bizarre architecture and the weird animal sculptures outside (a dog made of flowers, a huge, spindly metal spider) and then went in. Kindly, Tamara’s mum had given her money to pay for all of us, which was really nice. We saw all the exhibits, which ranged from huge metal labyrinthine, snakelike sculptures to beds made out of lead to huge LCD panels with words written on them. I’m no big fan of modern art, but it was definitely worth seeing all this, and I did see a few things I could stomach.

Afterwards, we basked outside on park benches in the sun, and Bonnie and Tamara laughed at me as I kept nodding off and my head kept jerking back upwards. Finally we returned to her flat for lunch, again waiting for us courtesy of her mum. Then we took a little siesta before getting into the car so that Tamara’s parents could show us some sights we wouldn’t have known about otherwise. First we went to the Puente Colgante, or the Hanging Bridge, so called because it now has this hanging sort of ferry which brings cars across the river every five minutes or so. The bridge itself is really old, and REALLY high. We took an elevator up and then walked across. From that high, the view of Bilbao and its surrounding mountains was just amazing. The river stretched out on either side of us, and in front were the red roofs of the many buildings in the older part of the city. Tamara’s dad took copious pictures of all of us at various points on the bridge, and gave us mini history lessons that were just comprehensible. Then we took an elevator down and after a short boat ride across the river, we were back by the car. Then we walked down the river bank and looked at one of the beaches there, and her dad showed us a historical monument, and then we packed into the car and drove to another beach further away that Tamara frequently visits. We walked around for a bit, then drove to another point on a hillside from which you could see the entirety of Bilbao. After snapping multiple pictures, we headed back to the house for a delicious dinner.

On Tuesday, we drove with her parents to a seaside village that had been a major fishing port for quite some time. After resolving some parking difficulties, Tamara’s dad eagerly took us to a fishing museum housed in this strange, hexagonally-shaped building. It was quite comprehensive and had many artifacts and diagrams and informational placards. I learned about the history of whaling in Bilbao and just how important the sea had been to its early economy. Afterwards, we walked around a bit and then drove to a pretty lighthouse spot to eat sandwiches. Then, as the weather had cleared up, us three girls were left off at a beautiful beach around 3:00. We spent about three hours there, enjoying the waves (the water was slightly warmer than the beach water at home usually is), getting sunburnt, and generally forgetting about the gloom of Ireland’s weather. Tamara’s parents came back for us around 6:00, and then we drove to this sort of rocky island-type deal with an old church at the peak. We parked the car, ate more sandwiches, and then had to climb 200+ steps across a series of huge rocky-cliff type things up the hill. After climbing Croagh Patrick, this was nothing, and the view from the top – of blue sea stretching out on three sides, with the beach we’d been at in the distance, and the hills behind us – was quite rewarding. At that point, I was in dire need of a bathroom break, but after seeing that the W.C. in the church was actually nothing more than a plastic chute in the rocks with a roll of toilet paper, I decided to wait a bit longer.

The next day, Tamara took us on a walking tour through Casco Viejo, the older part of Bilbao, which was really pretty. We then went to the Museo de Bellas Artes, which housed much more traditional artwork than the Guggenheim. In the evening, we met up with Maite (the homestay student my parents hosted this summer while I was in Ireland) and her family. That was, in a word, awkward. In fact, it was pretty much the epitome of awkwardness. I couldn’t really understand her parents, Maite wouldn’t say much, Bonnie didn’t know what to do, so Tamara was forced to make conversation. First we had a tart and some grape juice, then we went to the park to take pictures, and then we got a drink, and then we just kept walking around. It was supremely uncomfortable, which was unfortunate because it would’ve been nice to talk to them. But eventually we were driven home by Maite’s dad, and then Tamara’s parents made us my favorite meal of the trip – a tortilla Española, which is an omelette. This one had potatoes and egg and maybe onion, and I don’t know what it was about it, but it was probably the best thing I’ve eaten all summer. It was kind of sweet but just really delicious. I should say that Tamara’s parents were very accommodating to my vegetarianism, even though they were shocked that I don’t eat fish – that’s Bilbao’s big gastronomic draw. Her mum made various cold salads (pasta, potato, rice) and there was always fresh fruit (delicious white peaches), and Bonnie was fed lots of different types of fish and such. That night, since Bonnie had expressed a desire to have her hair cut (her hair was butt-length), Tamara’s mum took charge of the operation and chopped quite a bit off. That was really funny; Bonnie couldn’t understand her at all and she kept wanting to cut more and more off and Tamara had to force her not to do so. I took lots of pictures of the endeavor, and afterwards, Bonnie was very pleased (if slightly shocked) with her shorter hair.

The next day was Thursday, our last day in Bilbao. In the morning, we walked to the city’s main cathedral and looked around, and then went to a mall so that Bonnie could buy earrings for her mum. After sitting in a park for a bit, we headed back to the flat and ate our last homecooked meal. Tamara’s mum had made a yellow-orange soup that looked rather strange, but was quite good; it was mostly carrot and potato, we were told. Then Tamara’s dad drove us to the airport, which is about as big as T.F. Green but is MUCH prettier. Our flight had been delayed, so they stuck around for a bit but eventually we had to say goodbye, which was, of course, rather sad. As the plan ascended into the air from Bilbao, Bonnie and I knew that this was the last time we’d see beautiful sunny skies and feel warm for a long time. Seriously. I’m not being dramatic – we landed in grey Dublin, had to take two buses back, and as we stepped off the final bus at UCD, it just downpoured on us. Sigh. Thus ended our adventures in Spain.