Bilbão

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

the stained glass window that welcomed us at Bilbão-Abando train station

Here we are in Bilbão, the heart of Basque Country, or El País Vasco in Spanish and Euskadi in the Basque language Euskara.

random brickwork on a derelict building

I don’t know about you, but I used to mentally connect the Basque Country to terrorism. There was so much of it in the news in the 1980s. At that time, I knew the Basque Country was sandwiched between Spain and France in the Pyrenees Mountains, but I thought it was an independent country. What I learned in reading up for this trip is that the Basque Country is comprised of four Spanish Basque provinces and three French Basque provinces that want to become one country of seven Basque provinces. Hence their political equation: 4+3=1. Makes sense; many cohesive ethnicities existed before today’s political boundaries divided them. Borders continue to shift and change accordingly.

The Basque provinces have wanted independence since the time they were incorporated into Spain and France centuries ago. After the Spanish Civil War ended in 1939 and Generalísimo Franco declared himself dictator of Spain, he didn’t want to hear anything about separatist movements from either the Basque Country, Catalonia, or any other provinces. Politically, he came down on them pretty harshly.

After his death in 1975, Spain reverted to a monarchy. The Basques, not knowing what line the new king, Juan Carlos I, would take, made their bid for independence loudly and clearly. That was the tumultuous ‘80s. But Juan Carlos handled the situation well, in my estimation. Although he had been taken under Franco’s wing and educated here in Spain (while his family was in exile in Portugal), he surprised everyone by having his parliament outline a plan for autonomy for all the provinces of Spain.

the Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art

Bilbão is the capital of the Basque province of Viscaya. It has always been an industrial city – not much to look at until the Guggenheim Foundation came to town. They were searching for a site to build a European art museum and had visited several candidate cities, including Madrid, but weren’t finding what they were looking for. As the story goes, they reluctantly accepted an invitation to visit Bilbão, not expecting much.

Love this crazy architecture!

But once here, they discovered the site of a former steel mill on the river, and the notion of a metropolitan conversion from industry to art appealed. The Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim opened in 1997, and other notable architects followed. A brilliant coup on the part of city planners: Soon afterwards, millions of tourists flocked to Bilbão to take it all in.

The local cuisine has flourished along with the growth of the city. In addition to the many Michelin-starred restaurants, pintxos (peent-chos) prevail. A slice of baguette topped with an infinite variety of deliciocities, the creativity of which is left to the many talented chefs. Each bar has its specialties.

Bilbão is the pintxo capital of the world

the Zubizuri pedestrian bridge

The Basques also have an interesting language, Euskara. Quite different from Spanish, it’s a riot of crazy letter combinations. They are extremely fond of x’s and z’s and repetitive syllables. Take the national white wine, txakolitxakoli, for example, and the Zubizuri pedestrian bridge. Sounds like something Dr. Suess would come up with. One of their signature dishes, bacalao al pil pil, is named for the sound of the cod juices and olive oil bubbling in the pan. How fun is that? We ate in the Café Txirimiri. I don’t even begin to know how to say the name, but the food was delicious!

Taking the scenic route

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

Sometimes I get so bogged down in the itinerary that I can’t make simple decisions: Should we take the fastest route (autopista) from Llanes to our next destination of Arrigorriaga (try saying that three time quickly – or even once!) just south of Bilbão, or the more scenic route along the coast? “The scenic route,” piped in Marcus. “We have lots of time before we need to check in in Arri-whatever.”

The scenic route it was, and I am so glad we did. What gorgeous little towns we saw along the Atlantic coast! San Vicente de la Barquera (probably the prettiest), Comillas, Santillana del Mar, and Santoña. I wanted to wrap up each one and put it in my pocket!

Sippin’ cider

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

the master cider pourer in Llanes

Marcus and I had never tried fermented cider before. The thought of drinking alcoholic apple juice just didn’t appeal. But here we are entering Basque Country where cider is the national drink. Don’t you think we ought to try it?

While sitting at a café in the main square of Llanes, the Plaza Cristo Rey, we watched the sidrería (cider house) across the way. [An aside: I just love the way the Spanish language adds -ería on to the end of any noun to yield the name of an establishment that sells the noun. You want pan (bread)? Go to a panería. We buy bread from a bakery. Bread/bakery? You want to buy carne (meat)? Go to a carnería. We buy meat from a butcher. Want sidre (cider)? Go to a sidrería. Okay, that doesn’t translate, but you get the idea.]

So back to the sidrería we were watching…. There was one particular server who took great pride in pouring cider in the traditional Basque way: Hold the bottle above your head and the glass down by your thigh with the opening pointing away from you. Then pour the cider at such an angle that it arcs and hits just inside the rim of the glass. This is called “cracking” the cider and (supposedly) makes it taste better. I’m sure just from the description you can tell this is easier watched than done. If we were going to try cider, it wouldn’t be from the comfort of our own apartment where we would end up mopping the floor. We needed to have an expert pour it, and who better than this marksman across the way.

We sauntered over. In my halting Spanish I told him that we had never tried cider before, and what did he recommend? In retrospect, I think this was probably a mistake as he brought out a bottle without a label and with an unsealed cork haphazardly stuck in the top. I ignored the little voice that told me not to drink anything unsealed, hoping the alcohol would kill any germs.

So this is how it goes: You don’t pour your own cider. The guy comes to your table when he sees that your glass is empty. And he only pours one swallow, each time from a height of probably three feet. The cider is cloudy at first, I suppose from all the cracking going on, and you’re supposed to drink it before the cloudiness settles out. But we made the mistake of sipping it. Ackkkk!

How can I delicately describe the taste? It tasted just like all the men’s rooms (and the walls of some buildings in dark alleyways) we have smelled (without trying) in Spain. We looked at each other wide-eyed. Had I made a mistake by confessing our ignorance about cider, and this was our server’s payback to all the tourists that had tormented him all day? (I’m thinking back to that unsealed bottle.) Or was the fragrance so powerful that this is the parfum that exudes from every post-processed-cider receptacle in Spain? We may never know, but you can betcha that we will never drink cider again!

Cutest little fishing village

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

Cudillero, Spain

Fodors promised Cudillero is the cutest little fishing village in Asturias. We haven’t seen them all, but they just may be right; we were enchanted and so glad that we waited to make our lunch stop here.

the one and only plaza is the heart of the town

The village virtually tumbles down the hillside into the sea. Loved its vibrant town center with its colorful facades! Fun place to hang out.

the lighthouse and the Atlantic beyond

happy travelers

Tilting at windmills

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Cindy

wind turbines in Asturias

As we drove from Santiago, in the northwest of Spain, along the northern (Atlantic) coast to our next destination, the terrain gradually changed from fogged-in mountains to open, rolling green hills and sunny skies. The landscape reminded me of Switzerland, although without the Alps towering above the foothills, with little stone farmhouses and placid, milky-brown cows tucked into valleys between the hills. To our left (north) we could see a line of steel-blue on the horizon – the ocean. Ahead (east), along the ridges of this increasingly mountainous terrain, a phalanx of wind turbines congregated.

I don’t know what it is about wind turbines that thrills me so much. The most dramatic were the ones we saw in Greece. Greece can be such a dry, barren, and impoverished country in parts; the sight of these colossal machines harvesting the wind’s power left us hopeful that the country was on the right path and just might survive its financial woes.

The wind turbines in Portugal – yet another EU country in need of modernization – were also impressive; the sound of the ginormous blades cutting through the wind at “o fim do mundo” (the end of the world), the tempestuous southwest coast of Europe at São Vicente, was exhilarating.

Don Quixote and his sidekick, Pancho Sanza

But in Spain, these dynamos give an entirely different sensation. I can’t help but think of the beloved Spanish literary character, Don Quixote, and wonder what he would make of them. Much sleeker, taller, and awe-inspiring than the squat little plugs of windmills in his day, would these have been as threatening to him – or more so?

I don’t know about Don Quixote, but when we drove round a bend and suddenly found ourselves in the midst of them, I felt the urge to reach for my lance. Instead, I grabbed my camera and tried in vain to capture their majesty. These gentle giants, rather than responding to the wind, seemed to be moving their magnificent arms of their own volition, waving us through the pass with approval and on to further adventures.

Galicia: granite and grapes

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Cindy

granite posts support the fence around this home-grown vineyard

Galicia is so rich in granite and talented stonemasons that everything is made of granite – the houses, the barns, even the fence posts. We love how so many houses, even in the towns, have their own little vineyards in the backyard. This is albariño country, the delicious white wine that Galicia, especially Cambados where we had lunch, is known for.

Café radar

Posted on September 19, 2015 by Cindy

café on Illa de Arousa

I have pretty good restaurant radar – I can sense from the atmosphere of a place and the menu if it is going to be good, and it’s usually accurate. Marcus has been perfecting his café radar. (We all have to start somewhere!)

After our fantastic lunch in Cambados, we drove over the causeway to the island of Arousa (in the Ría Arousa). We stopped at a beautiful little beach, and Marcus spotted this café run by a young family. It was the perfect pick-me-up before we headed back to Santiago. The sun felt so good!

Wonderful day in Cambados

Posted on September 18, 2015 by Cindy

Cambados, España

After two straight days of pouring rain and gusting winds, we couldn’t stand being indoors one more day. Thursday promised to be partially sunny, at least on the coast, so we blew our popsicle stand in Santiago and headed toward the sunshine.

I had chosen the little town of Cambados for our escapade and ran it by our host. Yes, we couldn’t do better for a scenic village on one of the Rías Baixas, the estuaries that interlace the fingers of land reaching into the Atlantic Ocean on the western coast of Galicia, the little part of Spain that juts out over Portugal. We practically ran to the car.

I just have to interject here, for the practical traveler, that there are no public restrooms in Spain. If you feel the urge, you need to go into a cafe, bar, or restaurante. And, according to the guide books, you are obligated either to buy something when you use their facilities or leave a tip on the plate at the bar. Never having seen a tip plate on the bar, we always feel compelled to buy something – and it’s usually liquid, which kind of defeats the original purpose of visiting the establishment.

chocolate con churros (with someone’s beer and jamón in the photo)

Regardless, we had had an hour’s drive to Cambados, post-morning coffee, so we ducked into a little chocolatería/churrería near where we parked. This was my chance to taste (hot) chocolate with churros. Chocolate competes with a good Rioja wine or perhaps a Basque cider for the national drink. It’s so thick, you have to have it with churros (if you haven’t had them in the U.S., think fried dough put through a Play-doh extruder) to wipe out your cup. Delicious!

El Rincón de Tío Paco

Although the weather had improved as we headed west, there was still a threat of rain out over the ocean. We walked along the Paseo Marítimo (path along the water) when we arrived and were disappointed not to see women digging for clams, despite the low tide. (Gwyneth Paltrow’s favorite experience on her gastronomic road trip through Spain with Mario Batali.) We felt sprinkles and looked for a place to duck into for lunch. Nada. But my restaurant radar was on, and I sensed better opportunities ahead – a red awning. El Rincón de Tío Paco (Uncle Paco’s Hideout). They had a cart out front with the catch of the day, and I was in the mood for mussels and a good albariño, the best white wine in Spain. Coincidentally (or not), Cambados is the heart of albariño country.

mejillones

We spoke to José. Yes, they have mejillones (mussels), but he recommended the zambariñas (bay scallops). Great! We’ll have both with a salad and a couple of glasses of albariño.

zambariñas

We sat outside on the terrazza, the sun came out, and we had a view of palm trees with the ocean beyond and the most amazing meal so far in Spain. The mussels were good (the largest I’ve ever eaten and bright orange!), but the scallops were absolutely amazing. And the wine…. Well, let’s just chalk this one up as a good day.

Santiago de Compostela

Posted on September 17, 2015 by Cindy

I missed the note about sharing food…

Posted on September 14, 2015 by Cindy

Arcadio Travieso

So it was too wet and foggy to hike, which is the main reason I wanted to go to Las Médulas. There are some great hikes, I understand, around the collapsed mountains.

Plan B: lunch!

The village of Las Médulas consists of about 30 homes which look, for the most part, like the people are living just above poverty level. But there were several restaurants to choose from (thanks to El Camino and the tourists) – all stone farmhouses, most likely with an abuelita (little grandmother) doing the cooking. We walked through the entire village before deciding on Arcadio Travieso (don’t ask me, I think it’s Latin). Loved the stone interior and the excellent servers. It was undoubtably a family affair.

inside Arcadio Travieso

One thing I missed on the sign when we went in: they serve “food to share”. In other words, everything comes on huge, heaping platters. We ordered salad, an empanada (which are pastries stuffed with meat, vegetables, and potatoes, and in South America and the U.S. are usually the size of a small wallet), and a veal dish with potatoes. The salad was tasty, and the empanada so huge (a 10×10″ square – think stuffed pizza!) that we had to cancel our veal dish. Bummer! If I had known, I would have left off the empanada (which was delicious – chock-full of meat) and taken the veal. Oh, well; live and learn. Good eatings today!

Abuelita’s garden – we were eating fresh and local!

Spinning Compass

Tag Archives: Spain

Bilbão

Taking the scenic route

Sippin’ cider

Cutest little fishing village

Tilting at windmills

Galicia: granite and grapes

Café radar

Wonderful day in Cambados

Santiago de Compostela

I missed the note about sharing food…