León

This morning we had a walking tour of the old city of Leon with a local guide. She was deadly dull, but she did point out a few interesting things.

A house designed by a young Antoni Gaudi -- prior to his projects in Barcelona -- looks like a castle and has a statue of Gaudi on a bench outside.

Also, because the lion is the symbol of Leon there is a lion leaping out of a manhole in front of city hall.

There is some sort of festival in town this weekend. We never did get exactly what it's about, but there are all sorts of kiosks set up with vendors (mostly jewelry and food items) with the proprietors dressed up in medieval costumes.

There are also musicians roaming around with bagpipes and drums who are dressed in what I'm sure they imagine to be medieval garb. Who knew that bagpipes were such a big deal in Spain? But there were lots of them around.

At the conclusion of the tour we got on the bus for an hour plus ride to a farming village that may have had a hundred residents. The streets were too narrow for the bus, so we were driven by cars for the last up hill half mile or so to the farm.

Our host, Carmen, raises goats, sheep, and horses. But she also supplements the farm income in several ways. One is agritourism -- hosting people like us. In the same space where she welcomed us, she also runs a bar for locals. And in the summer, she has campers on the property.

Further, she uses her farm animals as therapy animals for children with disabilities. We didn't learn what actual training or certifications she has for this, but she seemed knowledgeable. She demonstrated some physical exercises with a horse, and told about nonverbal children bonding with the cats and dogs on the farm.

Some California and Oregon members of the group fed horses or petted baby goats, but we have been on farms before and this didn't seem a novel experience for midwesterners.

Carmen led a cheesemaking project, and we got to enjoy fresh cheese on our salad at lunch. The meal was quite good with everything but the wine homemade on the farm.

After returning to Leon we set out to visit the cathedral. The cathedral here is in Gothic style, designed with inspiration primarily from French pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela.

It is small, as European cathedrals go, but has more square meters of original stained glass than any cathedral in Europe except that in Chartres, France.

There were also some interesting features, such as an exterior door that has been protected enough by a later addition to preserve the original paint colors of the statuary. We also stepped inside the Basilica de San Isidoro, an older Romanesque style church nearby, but it was just another church.

Cathedral altar

We then made our way through the festival crowd to the Museum of Leon. This is a government-owned museum focused on the history of the region. It was free to senior citizens, and not too bad considering what we paid to get in.

Our feet were tired from museum walking, so we found an outdoor table at a bar on the main street and had a drink while watching people as the Friday night festival crowd grew. It was quite entertaining.

Finally, we walked a bit on the main shopping streets of the "new town" (everything outside the "old town" counts, even if some buildings date back to the 1800s). We didn't really shop, but entered one "dollar store" type place that appeared very tiny on the outside, but went on and on inside with rows and rows of incredibly cheap stuff we didn't need or want. That did it for us for the day.

Ubidea

Our regular bus and driver are back, although the bus still makes some odd noises from time to time. It was a long travel day from Pamplona to Leon, but the trip was broken by a couple of interesting stops.

The first was in the village of Ubidea, which might have 200 people on a Saturday night, but fewer at other times. We were met at the bus by Mikaela, who spoke perfect English with an accent we haven't heard here -- because she is an Australian who studied in the UK before coming to Spain.

Mikaela is part of a team of osteoarchaeologists working in a small laboratory in a converted house on the main street of this tiny place. They are involved in locating mass graves from the Spanish Civil War, recovering skeletal remains, identifying them, and returning them to surviving family members and descendants. Their research also involves the location of burial sites related to older conflicts and periods dating back to the Napoleaonic Wars and even all the way back to the defeat of Charlemagne's army at Roncesvalles (see yesterday's entry).

Obviously very excited about her work, Mikaela explained how bones can reveal much about how a person lived, as well as about how they died. And she explained how objects found with a body, such as coins or musket balls, can reveal on which side a soldier fought.

After this encounter, we walked across the street to a rather unlikely tavern where we were served quite a nice lunch. As always, washed down with plenty of wine.

As we left Basque Country and drove into northern Spain the landscape changed remarkably. This part of the country is obviously more arid, and the mountains gave way to plains reminiscent of Kansas.

At the village of Castrojeriz we rejoined the Camino de Santiago just long enough to walk through town. In a little over a mile we passed three large churches, as well as countless hostels, inns, hotels, bars, and restaurants all geared to the pilgrims who pass through on foot.

This region has been called "The Empty Spain" because so many people have left the rural villages to find work in the cities. Even here in Castrojeriz there were many boarded up houses and businesses. It's clear that the Camino is the only economic lifeline keeping this village viable.

We arrived in Leon in late afternoon, had an orientation walk, and then went to dinner. It was an excellent meal!

Pamplona

Departure from our hotel this morning was delayed by a broken bus, but the company managed a replacement bus and driver in record time. The destination was Roncesvalles (or in French, Roncevaux), a mountain pass in the Pyrenees that has been used by travelers and armies to move between the region that is now France and the region that is now Spain.

A stone marker here memorializes the defeat of part of Charlemagne's army by Basques in 778 C.E. In Basque Country, history has a long memory.

This pass is also the part of the "French Route" of the Camino de Santiago and is a location where many pilgrims begin their walk. We began our walk here, as well. But we only did a bit less than three miles -- only 440 miles short of the Compostela!

The path is well-marked and easy to follow, though one has to be careful to avoid lots of animal dropping from both wild fauna and domestic livestock. At least in this area, it is also very scenic.

Those who begin the walk in France are often near the end of the day when they reach here, and are looking for accommodations. A former monastery here remains an active hostel for pilgrims.

There is also a beautiful church attached to the monastery, designated as a "colegiata." This is a special category of churches in the Roman Catholic administration which places it as more important than a parish church, but not at the level of a basilica or cathedral.

Also on site is a much older chapel which is one of the most ancient along the entire Compostela.

Our walk ended at an inn on the main road through the village of Roncesvalles where we were served a large lunch at the ridiculously early time (by Spanish standards) of 12 noon.

We were also met in the village by a local "friend" who spoke to us about life here, managed to sponge free wine at our lunch table, tried to sell us his self-published albums of nature photos, and insisted on singing and playing guitar for us after the meal (CDs also for sale). Neither his music nor his photography were very good.

After the big meal, the bus ride back to Pamplona was good for a siesta, but we still had some time back at the hotel to prepare for the rest of the day.

We walked first to Pamplona's ornate City Hall where those who wish to take part in the annual encierro, or "running of the bulls," need to check in. The only screening is that participants must be at least 18 years of age, not intoxicated, and not pregnant. They must also not carry any bag, camera, or other items that might impede their movement. Traditionally the runners wear white with a red scarf, but this is not a strict requirement.

With a local man who has run the encierro many dozens of times over more than 30 years, we visited the corral behind the city hall where the bulls are penned the night before the run. He explained the origin and the mechanics of the event, and did a good job of helping us picture it as we walked the half-mile route through the city.

The run ends at the bull ring -- one of the largest in Spain, but used only one week each year -- where a bust of Ernest Hemingway watches over the chute where the bulls enter.

Yes, one probably has to be a bit crazy to run with the bulls. But I know people who jump out of airplanes.

San Sebastian

Checking out of the hotel in Bilbao after breakfast, the bus took us through fog under grey skies to San Sebastián. Since the 19th century, when the Queen of Spain decided to build a summer palace by the sea here, this has been a playground for the rich and famous. It continues to be so today.

With a wide beach and well-preserved 19th century buildings along the shore, San Sebastián (or Donostia in Basque) is a center for resorts and shopping just 12 miles from the French border. It was almost completely destroyed by Napoleon in 1813, so except for a couple of old churches, almost everything here has been rebuilt since then.

Starting from the Miramar Jauregia (Palace of Looking at the Sea) we walked the beautiful promenade along the seashore.

Then our tour leader took is through the narrow streets of the old town where there are lots of "cute little shops," but even more pintxos bars. Our tour leader treated us to a small taste of "the best cheesecake in all of Spain" that comes from one bake shop here. It was OK, but nothing like New York Style.

In some free time we visited the oldest church in the city, San Vicente, which has a rich history and a beautiful interior.

Our group enjoyed a wonderful Basque lunch at a small restaurant before walking on along the river to find our bus once again to complete the journey to Pamplona. The thickly forested mountains are very beautiful on most of the route, but give way to more barren terrain as we reached Pamplona.

In the evening we walked around the old town of Pamplona a bit and stepped into a couple of churches. There was a rather large pro-Palestinian rally taking place in one of the plazas. We see Palestinian flags nearly as often as Basque flags.

Guernica

Our bus drove us approximately 25 miles through thick morning fog to the town of Guernica. Today, it's a town of roughly 16,000 people that looks much like any other in this region. In April of 1937 it was the first town on earth to endure the new weapon of arial bombardment, destroying 85% of the structures and killing thousands. Although this weapon was employed repeatedly by all sides in World War II -- climaxing in the nuclear attacks on Japan -- it shocked the world as the first such attack on civilians.

Pablo Picasso's famous painting depicting the destruction of Guernica hangs in a museum in Madrid, but a monochrome reproduction is an outdoor monument here.

Guernica was targeted because it is a traditional center of Basque culture and politics. For centuries, Basque tribal leaders met beneath a sacred oak tree on a hill overlooking the town. Here they would settle disputes and elect their chiefs.

While the original oak is long dead, part of the trunk of an ancient tree is preserved in a monument.

Also, a descendent of the original tree continues to stand near a building where Basque and Spanish politicians still meet from time to time.

Our visit to the Guernica Peace Museum was long and tedious. While the displays about the bombing and its aftermath were well done (though descriptions were only in Spanish and Basque), the sophomoric attempts by the young, 20-something guide to lecture on the philosophy of peace were much, much too long and incredibly dull.

After finally being released from the museum, we visited the Monday Market in a pavilion near the town center. This was poignant because the 1937 attack was timed to hit a Monday market day when Basque people from all around would be in town trying to buy food that had become scarce during the Civil War.

Along the way to our next destination we stopped briefly at an overlook along the coast. A small chapel on a rock in the Bay of Biscay was used as one of the many European locations for the Game of Thrones TV series. We didn't take the hike to see it, but the parking lot was overflowing with the vehicles of those who did.

Narrow, winding roads took us to a Basque village (actually, a number of farm houses scattered widely around a small, very old church). Because the bus could not negotiate the roads any further, we walked from the church to our host home. The church had been tagged with some rather unchristian graffiti.

Lunch was a traditional pintxa of olives and fish, a shot of Basque hard cider, and talos. After corn was brought back from the Americas in the 16th century, it was adopted as one of the few crops that could be cultivated in the Basque hills. Talos are made of corn flour, much like tortillas in Mexico.

Our host demonstrated the technique, then we made our own. We mixed corn flour, water, and a bit of salt to make a dough that was cooked on a gas grill outside the house. For the main course, our talo was topped with our choice of sausages and cheese with a tomato and fish sauce. Dessert talos can be topped with applesauce and chocolate.

On the way back to Bilbao we stopped at the suburb of Getxo where the Nervion River meets the Bay of Biscay. Getxo happens to be the beginning of one tributary of the Compostela pilgrimage walk.

Also here, the unique Vizcaya Bridge was built in 1893 by Alberto Palacio, one of Gustave Eiffel's disciples.

This iron "transporter" bridge was the first of its kind in the world and is one of the few remaining in operation today. 

It's considered part of the Bilbao region's public transportation system and continues to carry passengers, bicycles, and cars across the river daily. It's also a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We got to ride across on the bridge gondola and then returned riding a "Gasolina" -- a power boat that ferries passengers back and forth across the river, and also considered part of the mass transit system.

After returning to the hotel for a few hours of rest, we set out for our home-hosted dinner with a local family. With one other couple, we were paired with hosts Javi and Ana -- a very lively couple about our age. Javi was especially animated, spoke English well, and was a huge fan of American musical theater. The meal was excellent and the conversation did not lag.

Bilbao New and Old

After flight delays, all 13 members of our group are now here. We had the usual orientation meeting followed by a city tour led by a local guide.

The tour began with a bus excursion around the "new" city (new from the 1870s, that is). Our only stop along the bus ride was at a civic center which was originally a wine warehouse. 

It was proposed as the site of the Guggenheim Museum (see below), but didn't meet specifications for that. Now it has multiple functions, containing a public library, public fitness center with multiple swimming pools, public radio station, city government offices, and more.

One of the swimming pools is on the roof, and the bottom of the pool is glass panels that can be viewed from the ground floor.

Steel pillars needed to be installed to support the roof, and on the ground floor these are covered by pillar sculptures by various artists in all kinds of styles.

After the bus ride, we walked from the "new" city hall (1909) into the "old" town. Walking is necessary because the streets are too narrow for vehicles. While many of the buildings in the old city date back to the 1400s, the facades are newer.

The Basque region is semi-autonomous, with its own language, culture, flag, legislature, tax system, etc. Spain actually has an "embassy" in this city, even though we are technically in Spain. The Basque flag, which looks like a mis-colored Union Jack, flies everywhere. The Spanish flag is seldom seen.

The heart of the old city is a plaza that is completely surrounded by residential apartments on upper floors, with shops on the ground floors. While there are a few shops that provide other goods or services, the vast majority are "bars." In Bilbao, a bar is generally a cafe that serves "pintxas" (PEEN-chahs) to eat, and wine and beer to drink, with very few places to sit. Patrons generally stand to eat and drink.

Pintxas are the Basque version of tapas -- although the Basque people are greatly offended by that comparison. Pixtxas are small portions, but they are generally more substantial than tapas, with lots of meat or seafood and cheese. They are almost always consumed with wine or beer, both of which are unbelievably cheap here. A glass of good wine is usually less than 3 Euros!

On this Sunday afternoon, a major activity in the plaza is the trading of sports cards -- mostly of soccer players. Children, teens, and old men race around with their cards to trade and lists of cards they are seeking. It's clearly important business.

From the plaza, we took a tram ride across town to the Guggenheim Museum. When the Guggenheim Foundation of New York was seeking to build a museum in Europe, they focused on Saltzburg, Austria. But Salzburg delayed the project because of the celebration of a Mozart festival. Bilbao stepped in and offered to build the museum and pay the Foundation several millions of dollars if they would name it and curate the collection.

The projection was that Guggenheim Europe would attract about 250,000 visitors in the first year. The actual number was over a million, and the trend has continued. We contributed to that number by visiting today.

The architecture of the building is a big draw, probably more than the modern art inside. But some of that is pretty interesting, too.

After a couple hours in the Guggenheim, we walked to the Bilbao Museum of Fine Arts, which is in a much less interesting building only a few blocks away. But we arrived at 2:59 p.m., and on Sundays that museum closes at 3 p.m. So we had all of the art we were going to get for the day.

We walked back to the hotel along the river, and rested a bit before meeting our tour leader for a walk to the funicular for a view of the city from the top to the hill. Bilbao is only 10 miles from the Bay of Biscay and has always been a major seaport.

We could see the sea from the hilltop, and also could appreciate why the locals call the city, "The Hole," because it rests in a valley surrounded the foothills of the Pyrenees.

After descending from the overlook, we went to a restaurant the opened especially for us Americans at the unbelievably early hour of 7 p.m. Spaniards never eat their evening meal earlier than 8 or 9 o'clock and often later. So this was a major inconvenience for the restaurant. But they fed us well, nevertheless.