September 13, 2023
In Bilbao (a photo gallery)
Flying really is getting a little crazy. We had a four hour layover in Paris, which ordinarily would be excessive. Today though we needed all of that and then some or we might have missed our connecting flight. First, departure from Minneapolis was delayed by 90 minutes because the plane was three hours late in arriving and time was needed to clean it and prepare for boarding.
Seven hours later, the pilot announced that we had made up nearly an hour of if on the flight; but then once we hit the tarmac we gave a half hour back sitting idle waiting for the arrival gate to be available.
Worst thought was DeGaulle, which now goes on our list to be avoided in the future if possible. First, it’s a very long walk from our arrival gate to our departure terminal, where when we arrived we queued up for security and passport control - where we waited another half hour in a very slowly-moving line and were split off to one serviced by two aisles but soon ground to a complete halt as an army of fifty or sixty flight crew arrived and took priority. Things were definitely gettting tense in our line as we watched and waited, with folks already fearing they were missing their flight seething at the unfairness of it all.
All the while I tried to calm Rachael by reassuring her that we had plenty of time. And we did, but only because our next flight was also nearly an hour late in departure.
Bilbao, on the other hand, was a snap. It’s a short flight, and we both slept through most of it. We arrived on a small plane, so it didn’t take long to unload. It’s a small, fairly relaxed airport and it didn’t take long for us to claim our baggage and move on to the taxi stand. Within less than an hour of landing we were checking in to our hotel, happy to hear that even though it was just turning one our room was ready.
Rachael was doing reasonably well and as soon as we were settled in she left to go to the nearby Intersport to look for a new pair of sandals because a strap broke on hers a few days ago. I wasn’t doing as well, feeling nauseated and groggy with jet lag. I had just enough energy to take a photo of the view from our fifth floor window and then crashed for an hour or so.
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I’m awake and feeling human again by the time Rachael returns from her shopping excursion empty handed, and then she crashes herself while I go for a walk through the nearby parks. From the window of our room I saw what I think were a pair of monk’s parakeets flying into a tree far below, so I’m thinking I might score an early bird on the Spanish leg of the tour. No luck on that, but it’s good to get some fresh air and be reminded of how much I like this city.
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7 months ago
By the time I’m back it’s nearly time to think about food. Within a half hour Rachael and I are back out on the street checking out menus and soon find a reasonable spot that serves us up a dish of scrambled eggs with prawns and mushrooms for her and a bisque-style baccalau and potatoes for myself. And a bottle of water for three euros, and two classes of white wine for myself for 1.80 for the pair. Cheaper here to drink wine than the water, apparently.
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We’re in Spain all right, but more specifically we’re in Euskadi, the Basque country. It’s different enough that it feels like a different country, as I’m sure it would like to be.
7 months ago
While we wait por la factura Rachael’s on the phone looking for the nearest gelateria and finds an artisanal shop nearby that serves up works of art, the most stylish cones I think we’ve ever received.
We savor our cones on an outside bench, straight across the street from the famous Geary-designed Guggenheim museum, and when we’re done find that we still have enough energy left to walk around the museum grounds and along the river. This is the third time in nine years we’ve been here, and it’s as great a delight as ever to walk along the river taking in the museum, the artwork, the bridges and the river scene.
When we come to the ethereal Calavrata-designed Campo Volantin footbridge across the river it starts sprinkling. Umbrellas quickly pop out everywhere around us, and Rachael decides this is the time to head back to the room before it gets worse. This is one of my favorite bridges anywhere though so I decide to keep going, and then walk back along the other bank on the Campo Volantin, the wonderful riverside promenade lined with plane trees, before recrossing the river on the red-arched Puente de La Salve. I’ve got just enough energy to make it home and am ready to crash again soon after I’m back, as is Rachael.
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