I can smell the greasy aroma of patatas bravas and the bitter scent of vermouth. Sitting on a bench leaning against the wall of the bar, I enjoy these dishes while watching the passers-by. I arrived in Bilbao two days ago and I feel like I don’t understand this city. The layout of the neighborhoods is unclear in my mind and the local culture is foreign to me. However, I have noticed one thing: the locals like to spend time outside.
This is exactly the atmosphere I was looking for, to take a break from my everyday life in Bordeaux. My goal was not to discover the local tourist attractions but to speak Spanish and relax. Find out what I got out of this four-day trip and my favorite places in the Basque city.
Vegetarian dishes, concrete, and popular atmosphere
I arrive in downtown Bilbao after an hour-long carpool ride from San Sebastian. This trip, which began in Bordeaux in the middle of the day, is already relaxing me.
I discover the San Mames stadium, an imposing, modern structure set in a huge square. This neighborhood is not attractive. The concrete, the traffic on the wide avenues, and the absence of old buildings strike me immediately.
After a subway ride, I find myself in front of my Airbnb building. Its red bricks remind me of the suburbs of a working-class town.
The transformation of an industrial city
At the end of the 19th century, Bilbao entered a period of development based on the exploitation of minerals, particularly iron. It also prospered thanks to trade and port activity. Bilbao became one of the country’s largest economic centers and remained so for much of the 20th century. The Euskalduna shipyards and blast furnaces symbolize this industrial development.
In the 1980s, the steel industry was in crisis. The city had to transform itself and bet on new technologies and services. The Guggenheim Museum, built in 1997, is the symbol of the new Bilbao.
After working remotely in my room, in the evening, I go out to eat at a vegetarian-friendly restaurant that a friend from the city recommended to me. In the subway, to reach the platforms, you have to descend deep down via escalators or stairs that seem to plunge into the center of the earth.
Large red signs display the names of the stations. I find that the people around me are dressed less elegantly and less stylishly than in France. I don’t hear any Basque spoken around me. I am delighted to immerse myself in the Spanish language.
Back in the open air, I can see a river flowing through the city center in the distance. On my way to the restaurant, I see many boarded-up shops and blackened building facades. The people are mostly of African origin. I like the multicultural and working-class character of the area, which reminds me of the Wilhelmsburg district in Hamburg, where I used to live. On the other hand, I don’t feel comfortable because the place seems to have a bad reputation.
At the end of the long street, I discover a bar terrace with several vegan dishes on the menu. I’m in the right place.
Inside the Txu Krut bar, colorful surfboards hang on the wall. I order vegetarian gyozas, a soy steak burger, and a beer. On the terrace, next to me, is a group of friends, men and women of various ages sitting around a table. To me, this image symbolizes the Spanish culture of outdoor living. One of them, of Moroccan origin, buys me a beer.
I go inside to pay and ask the waiter:
– “Are you a surfer?
– Yes!
– Do you know where I can go surfing not far from here?
– Go to Sopelana beach.”
In this dirty neighborhood, I prefer to go to the nearest metro station rather than walk down the street that look dangerous.
When you’re abroad, you’re tempted to compare where you live with what you see around you. These thoughts come to me during my stay in the Basque city, perhaps because I don’t get to travel much. Yet here, I’m only four hours from Bordeaux, and the differences are not very marked.
In other words, my mind is no longer accustomed, as it was when I was an expatriate in Germany, to discovering a foreign culture without judging or comparing.
The next day, after spending the day working in a café in the city center, I plan to eat at a vegetarian restaurant. They are more common here and in Spanish cities in general than in Bordeaux. As a vegetarian, I enjoy discovering places where you can eat hearty, delicious food without meat.
The restaurant specializes in mushroom tapas. It’s located in Casco Viejo, the historic city center. As I exit the subway, I hear a commotion. I discover a street packed with people. They are standing or sitting on the ground in front of the bars that line the street. Most of the partygoers appear to be under 30. Beer in hand, they talk loudly. I take my time to reach the restaurant’s front door, which is closed.
On Google Maps, several other restaurants with many vegetarian options appear in the neighborhood, including the Okapi. The restaurant-bar is located on a street with dark buildings, like the rest of the quarter.
I order fried cauliflower and blue cheese croquettes at the counter. Many items on the menu offer vegetarian or vegan dishes fried in olive oil. Like at the restaurant the night before, I am delighted that the food is both rich and delicious.
Then I head back out onto the bustling streets of Casco Viejo in search of a bar. I find one where most of the customers are standing outside with drinks in their hands. I like the atmosphere. I find it difficult to approach people, but I do it anyway to enrich myself through contact with others, discover the local culture, and speak Spanish.
Reconnecting with the present moment
This trip is very work-oriented. I only get to enjoy the city for a few hours at the end of the day, when I go out for dinner and drinks. However, I had the pleasure of visiting the Guggenheim Museum on Saturday.
Waking up around noon after a night of partying, I realize that I left my charger at the bakery where I worked the day before. I take the subway to the city center. In the large round square I saw yesterday, I notice that my cell phone battery is down to 1%. I go to the Santagloria bakery, but I realize it’s not the one from yesterday. The waiter gives me directions to the right one.
First to the right, then to the left… I don’t recognize the surroundings, but I don’t want to turn off my phone’s airplane mode to save battery power and show my ticket at the museum.
The manager of a newsstand gives me vague directions to the bakery. Five minutes later, I can see the shop. I’m overjoyed, but the server tells me they haven’t found any charger. He apologizes several times, which makes me feel better. Empathy is an undervalued quality.
Let’s go eat, it’ll give me strength. I go to a small bar-restaurant where I recharge my physical and mental batteries, instead of my phone batteries. After devouring my tortilla, I go to buy the charger.
I feel upset for wasting time because of this oversight, as my stay in the Basque city is short. I should pay more attention to my belongings. In a busy street, where there are lots of people wearing Athletic Bilbao jerseys, I pass by numerous bars. The local team must have a game today. I sit down in a bar and put my phone on charge after ordering a Coke and some olives.
This setting is ideal for writing. The conditions are even better since my laptop can’t distract me. Anchored in the present moment, I pay attention to my surroundings and rediscover the joy of writing with pen and paper. Without external distractions, I am able to finish a blog post that I had been putting off for several days. I also take advantage of this moment to jot down my impressions of Bilbao in my notebook.
In the end, being forced to leave my laptop behind has brought me back to the important things in life: observing my surroundings, talking to people, and allowing myself time to write.
When art and water reveal the city
I arrive at the Guggenheim, an imposing building, in the early afternoon. It’s difficult to understand what its shapes represent. When I enter the airy, bright lobby on the ground floor, I download an app that allows me to listen to an audio guide. It tells me that its shapes represent flowers. The museum is supposed to connect the Nervion River, which I can see through the windows, with the city.
The metal sheets on the façade extend into the interior, reminding us that this monument is integrated into its environment. It feels like everything is made to stimulate the mind and to discover art. I’m fascinated by the complexity of the architecture and the fact that it represents the rebirth of Bilbao. It’s proof that a building can help change a city.
Two temporary exhibitions are taking place at the same time. The first begins on the ground floor, next to the elevator. It’s a collection of Helen Frankenthaler. I discover her large, colorful canvases. The artist’s painting techniques must be very masterful, as the different areas of the paintings come together harmoniously. However, I find it difficult to grasp them and understand what they are trying to express.
Although I don’t connect with her art, I find the information about her life, which spanned the 20th century, particularly on the east coast of the United States, interesting. Next, I take the glass elevator up to the first floor, enjoying the view of the building’s glass walls.
An exhibition by another American artist with a German name, Barbara Kruger, awaits me. It feel like the building is part of the exhibition, like a work of art in its own right. The winding corridors lead me from one room to another, high up. From the visitor path between the rooms, I can see the ground floor and the glass walls on the river side.
Barbara Kruger’s works are paintings of short sentences written in large letters, designed to make an impression. For example, I read “I shop therefore I am.” Another one: “I post therefore I am stagram.” A multitude of words are visible, expressing a variety of things. The meaning of the sentences makes me think.
Then I enter a room, whose walls are as white as the other rooms. Near the entrance, many works in the same style are displayed on the wall. They are humorous, always with a socially conscious dimension, aimed at making us think about our times, our society, and our beliefs.
In the center of the room is a screen on which sentences appear one below the other. Some words are erased and replaced by others, as if someone was typing and changing what he wanted to say. I hear the sound of a typewriter. Around me, visitors are also watching this animated work in silence. As someone who loves words, I enjoy this exhibition. I find that it takes the opposite approach to social media, which wastes time, and invites one to think more deeply.
Outside the Guggenheim Museum, I feel like I’ve recovered from my night, the painkillers taking effect. I also feel enriched and smarter than before I came in. This visit makes me want to go to museums more often.
Then, under the sun, I reach the footbridge by the river behind the building. The audio guide tells me that the surface of the building’s facade reflects the sun and changes color throughout the day. I listen to a few passages about the works on display outside, such as the huge spider, Maman, and the huge elegant pearls.
I decide not to go to the beach. The journey takes an hour each way, so it’s not worth it. I prefer to wander aimlessly through the streets.
I like the off-white stone buildings. I hadn’t noticed this aspect of Bilbao during my first few days here. The massive stone buildings remind me of those in Hamburg, including the Rathaus (city hall).
Suddenly, I see a small tree-lined square with benches. I lie down and sleep for an hour. The cars passing by nearby don’t bother me. On the way to the subway station, there are many people wearing Athletic Bilbao jerseys again. There’s definitely a game today.
Another aspect of the city that struck me was the presence of water in the center. The Nervion, a narrow strip of water that winds its way under numerous bridges, is integrated into the urban landscape. It brings a soothing presence. I noticed this particularly one evening as I was walking to Vasco Viejo. The lights reflected in the river, creating a magical and mysterious atmosphere.
When I leave the city, I realize that I hadn’t seen much of it. Some neighborhoods in Bilbao put me off, but the moments of celebration and gastronomic discovery allowed me to disconnect and enjoy life. Visiting its jewel, the Guggenheim, pleased me beyond my expectations.
Have you ever visited Bilbao? What impression did the city leave on you? Tell me in the comments!
