Sunday, August 14, 2005

Bus Ticket

Once again in Irun (“Irun? Irun? Why would you want to go to Irun?”), James and I found ourselves communicating rather poorly to the woman behind the glass partition that we each wanted a bus ticket to Bilbao. With only one seat remaining on the early bus, our only option was the 11:00. With a few hours stretching between now and then, we set about finding a place to pass the time.

Cafe in Irun

We settled on a long, narrow café with lots of counter space and a few small tables toward the back. Happy to be rid of my gigantic backpack for the day, I relished being able to sit at a table without trying to stuff all of my possessions under it. (I think backpacking means you learn very quickly to enjoy the simple pleasures.) Several cups of coffee later we buzzed back to the bus station and rode along the coast to Bilbao.

The Guggenheim

For many, the city of Bilbao is synonymous with The Guggenheim. Certainly for me and James, two art people who take most opportunities to visit all the museums and galleries we can. The main objective of our day trip to Bilbao was to visit The Guggenheim, to marvel in its architecture, to revel in its exhibitions, to soak it all in.


Certainly, the architecture was impressive. The museum was surrounded by water, giving the illusion that it was floating. “Puppy,” a towering dog covered in flowering plants by Jeff Koons, stood at the entrance. The interior, however, I found to be a bit disappointing. It was dark and cavernous, and there wasn’t as much art as I was expecting. On the ground floor was a Richard Serra installation, and wandering among his giant monoliths was an amazing experience. Higher up in the galleries was an exhibition of artifacts from the Aztec empire, which was interesting, but not exactly my “thing.” I suppose what I really wanted to see was European art and artifacts, not items from the part of the world I hailed from.

Carousel

Bilbao reminded me of San Diego, with its wide boulevards and hills in the distance, its public parks and Spanish fountains. Being a Sunday, all seemed quiet. Wandering through the Doña Casilda Iturrizar park, we noticed a lot of construction going on at the outskirts, and it seemed out of place next to a child’s playground with a colorful, ornate carousel. Inside the park, however, were peace and tranquility, no sounds but children laughing, birds calling, and the rush of water from fountains.

Nuns Enjoying Ice Cream in the Park

James and I caught a late bus back to Irun, arriving just in time to see the last bus to Hondarribia leaving the bus stop. With no taxies in sight, our only option was to walk the rest of the way to our campsite along the darkened roads and highways.