The Ugly Duckling / L'aneguet lleig

Bilbao (Bilbo in Basque) is a city of which I had a picture long before we moved here and I must admit that it was not very favourable. I used to think of it as a harbour, dominated by low buildings of corrugated steel but without people. Anyhow, this was the city I most wanted to visit when we went to the Basque country (Euskal Herria) - not only because of the Guggenheim, but also to understand why this place is more and more popular with tourists.

Now afterwards, I cannot reconcile the two images – the Bilbao of my prejudice and what it really looks like. I guess that there are big wharves and shipyards up along the coast, but to my big surprise you do not even see the sea unless you leave the centre. Instead, we found a well-maintained historic town built along a meandering river and totally surrounded by lush, green hills.

Not long ago Bilbao used to be seen as an industrial town which probably would not recuperate as jobs moved to cheaper places in the world. Fortunately enough, the Basques did not accept that destiny and decided to turn the most populous town of their country into its capital of knowledge. The Guggenheim was not the cause of the change, but clearly one of the most remarkable results.

The halls in the interior of American Frank Gehry’s shining metal construction are spacious and equipped with elevators, so we did not have any problems to manoeuvre the two-year-old in his push chair. The four-year-old, for his part, was happy to recognise some of the works of art, since my wife was well prepared and had let him colour print-outs of Jeff Koons’ Tulips and the 12-meter tall flower covered Puppy. However, that could not match his excitement when I let him walk as he pleased (I cannot write run, since that is not allowed) in the huge metal spirals of the Fish gallery.

After the museum we went to the Old Town (Casco Viejo in Spanish), where the area of the Siete Calles is said to have some of Bilbao’s most interesting nightlife. As you understand, I am not able to tell you whether that is true. We are a typical family with small children and therefore limited our adventure to a lunch and a long walk.
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Comentari en català: Bilbao és una ciutat preciosa i és una llastima que no vam poder passar-hi més que un dia. Com encara fa pocs anys que vam arribar a Espanya, per a nosaltres és molt difícil comprendre que feia tan de temps que el nucil antic de Bilbao no es renovava i que la costa de Barcelona es veia com una zona de treball i no cap com un actiu de l’encant de la ciutat. Ambdues ciutats serveixen com bons exemples per a Vilanova i la Geltrú d’això, com es pot canviar el perfil d’una ciutat. L'Eixample del Mar és un primer pas i ara tindrem una altra gran oportunitat amb la nova zona verda del Parc de Baix a Mar. Espero que sapiguem aprofitar-ne.

Very Basque Saint Jean de Luz

If I asked myself whether I really wanted to see Biarritz during my family’s short holiday in the Basque Country (Euskal Herria), that is nothing compared to what I felt about Saint Jean de Luz (Donibane Lohizune). I could not have been more wrong so, for a change, I am happy to have a stubborn wife. (Com veieu, té ella per menys la base per ser una bona catalana, tot i que encara sempre prefereix el castellà.)

They say that this town is the most Basque of the beach resorts on the French side of the border, but as in Biarritz and Bayonne, I can not claim that we heard any Basque spoken in the streets. Under no circumstances does that diminish the uniqueness of this place. We started our sight-seeing walk from the northern end of the Bay of St Jean de Luz. If you look at a map you will understand why historically it was so popular with fishermen and whalers – nature is protecting it from the hard waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

We followed the dock which becomes higher and higher the further south you walk. I guess that it is there to protect the houses from the tide and it is amazing that a huge stone construction adds to the beauty of the coast. After having descended, at the mouth of the river la Nivelle, we were surprised to see the relaxed atmosphere of the beach replaced by the active, but still picturesque one of the fishing port.


Before heading back to the car, we of course made a stop at the church of Sain-Jean Baptiste. Its façade is quite plain, but the inside is totally different from anything I had seen before. Multi-tier wooden galleries along the walls gave me a feeling of being in a theatre with balconies, rather than in a church. I assumed that these galleries were built for the great wedding which was celebrated here in 1660 when the Sun King Louis XIV of France reached peace with Spain by marrying María Teresa.

Now I know better. Apparently as late as 1962, Basque churches still made use of such galleries to separate men from women during mass. And was not that exactly what I had been looking for – the proof that St Jean de Luz is typically Basque?

Becoming a Ham Fan in Bayonne

I guess that you want me to be politically correct and claim that I have always known that Bayonne (Baiona) forms part of the Basque Country (Euskal Herria). For sure, I was not yet a teenager when I first heard of their famous smoked ham. But I am afraid that I always used to think of the town as French.

According to the guide books this is wrong. Apparently, there exists quite a lot of Basque nationalism here. During our recent visit, we honestly did not see much of that but, possibly, we walked through the wrong streets or were blinded by how much better small nationalities thrive on the Spanish side of the border.

The ham, on the other side, we simply could not avoid, since there happened to be an open-air ham trade fair while we were there. It is, in fact, interesting that ham looks so different when you chop of the hoof, as they do in Bayonne, compared to when you leave it on, as is the Spanish custom. Nor did we miss the chocolate, which certainly is not cheap, but there are many stores so, at least, it is easy to find.

Picturesque houses, nice food at restaurants along the river and a lot of atmosphere. Bayonne is a truly liveable town. Basque or French? For a tourist it does not really matter.

Never Dreamt of Biarritz

During our mini-vacation in the Basque Country, we of course had to visit the northern part (Iparralde) as well. Things are different there than in the southern part (Hegoalde). Window shutters in red and green still dominate, but blue is quite frequent as well. The housing estates come across as overly planned and perfect with their shiny white buildings. Except for the souvenir shops and a set of Basque flags over the vegetables in the Champion supermarket, Biarritz (Miarritze) above all felt French.

Last week, Biarritz obviously was the place to visit. When we walked over the bridge and up to the view point at la Rocher de la Vierge, I think that everybody around us spoke Spanish. Looking out over the beach where the view of a classic grand hotel was disturbed by a number of modern monster constructions, I realized how reluctant I would be to fight for a square meter of sand here during the high season. If my wife insisted we go, I would prefer to stay at one of the cafes in the idyllic town centre.

One of the advantages of expat life is that you have the chance to (relatively) easily go to places which did not make it to the top of your travel list while you were in your native country. Who am I to judge Biarritz after all? I have never dreamt going there.

Having said that, only today did I realise that there is an Orthodox church which we missed to look for. It was built for the Russian aristocrats who used to frequent Biarritz before the revolution. I cannot deny that there is a special charm in these traditional posh resorts.

A Day to Celebrate for the Basques

For us in Catalonia, the decisions which the Basque Nationalist Party (PNV) makes, are important. Tactically, since Zapatero can opt for a long-term co-operation with them in order to circumvent the Catalan nationalists CiU. Strategically, since they are a political force which works for independence from the Spanish state with democratic means, condemning the terrorism of the Basque separatists within ETA.

Last year the Basque president (lehendakari) Juan José Ibarretxe upset many Spanish nationalists by setting out a date for a referendum to October 23, 2008, in which the Basques are to determine whether they, themselves, have the right to decide on a possible future independence (el dret de decidir, as it is called in Catalan).

Today, Easter Sunday is the day of the Basque Homeland (Aberri Eguna). It is always celebrated on Domingo de la Resurrección and not on a fixed date like eg. Catalonia's national holiday on September 11. In their speeches in Bilbao, President Ibarretxe and PNV chairman Urkullu did not repeat their demand for a referendum, but instead opened the door for an agreement with Zapatero’s government, provided the Basques receive maximum self-determination within the Spanish state. Since what they want is something different from the, in their eyes, watered-down statute which Catalonia got recently, a referendum is in fact not needed. The text which they demand would in itself clarify that the Basques are sovereign to decide whether or not they belong to Spain.

The Basque nationalism is strong and this week, my family and I have visited one town after the other full of posters and graffiti calling for independence. For tourists who come from castellano-dominated parts of Spain, I assume that it can feel hostile. However, for us who live in Catalonia, although the Basque language is a huge barrier, we recognise many of the messages. That feeling is mutual - Basque souvenir shops offer t-shirts with the flags of Catalunya and Euskal Herria (the 'great' Basque Country - i.e. including the French parts) next to each other.

Only one of the posters we saw confused us a bit. To see the Basque flag next to that of Scotland is logic - outside the Spanish state, the Scots are a preferred partner for many nationalists. Neither did the flag of Montenegro surprise us, since it peacefully won its idependence not long ago. But what were Swedish and Finnish flags doing in the background? We used to be one country some 200 years ago, but I doubt that the Finns consider that they got rid of the Swedes in an especially nice way, since they were occupied by Russia before they reached independence. Or are we only seen as role models for small but relatively successful states?

In symbols, it is always easy to prove that independence would work, but the real issue is how to get there. Most small European states find international strength through the European Union, but neither the Basque Country nor Catalonia will be allowed in unless they have the majority of the population within their territories with them and that is, most likely, not the case today.
Personally, I am convinced that Catalonia and the Basque Country will be independent one day, but hope that it will be in a new federal Europe. In modern democracies – and especially in a state like Spain where there is a strong tendency towards regional autonomy – I do not see the need to rush things. In their rhethorics, Basque and Catalan nationalists see things differently, but in action most of them seem to agree.

San Sebastián and All the Dinners We Did Not Have

Last Wednesday the weather in San Sebastian (Donostia) was far from ideal but we did our best to explore the city. At a fast pace we walked along the clean quays of the river Urumea, admired the fancy Kursaal concert hall , entered into the Old Part (Parte Vieja), looked at the numbered balconies in the square Plaza de la Constitución (a reminder of the time when it was still being used to host bull fights) and then went down to the bay la Concha. To keep our children happy we made a long stop at the playground in front of one of the houses of the Basque government, but after that we needed to take refuge indoors.

The Basques are famous for their food - promoted throughout the world through chefs Arzak and Berasategui and others - so it is easy to find attractive restaurants. Or, that is, as long as you do not bring children as energetic as ours.

A funny consequence of our preference for loud places where we do not risk disturbing the other guests too much, was that it made us enter into a café for ETA sympathisers. From the alley, I got the impression that it was a normal music pub, but inside I found myself ordering coffee under an idol portrait of Iñaki de Juana Chaos. I guess that the other guests thought us ignorant not to understand where we had ended up, but we decided to stay. Our children simply needed to warm up a bit before we continued our walking tour through the windy streets.

On anther occasion, in the medieval town Hondarribia (north-east of San Sebastián), we tried our luck at the stylish place Sebastián, but the waitress who welcomed me when I stepped in, decided to double check with the manager when she saw our oldest son and all of a sudden the reservation list was full. I do not have anything against restaurants which have it as their policy not to accept small children – in all honesty, I doubt that my wife and I would have been able to enjoy a meal in this restaurant’s quiet, classic atmosphere with our children around – but I would have preferred to be told so, rather than to receive a poor excuse.

Fortunately, one of the highlights of Basque cuisine are pintxos (finger food on a toothpick) and they are served up in bars where small children disappear in the general noise. Therefore, we did not miss out on culinary experiences, we just did not manage to have any of the extraordinary dinners which so many other tourists to the Basque country talk about.

Good Friday in Zaragoza

I am a plan addict while my wife is prepared to follow caprices. Yesterday evening, we were on our way home from a mini-vacation up in the Basque Country (País Basc) and my intention was to get us to Vilanova’s small neighbour town Cubelles in time for their Good Friday procession (processó de Divendres Sant) starting at 22.00. I cannot claim that my wife was particularly excited about the idea, but here Easter is not celebrated in such spectacular ways as in other parts of Spain, so this was one of the few alternatives there were.

Or that was until the radio reminded us about the procession in Zaragoza (Saragossa) and I realized that we were only half an hour away from there. I did not need to persuade my wife – we needed a stop. For our children it meant that they could have a proper dinner instead of a snack along the road and for her it was a chance to get a first glimpse of a city where she had not been yet.

For those who want to see it all, the Good Friday procession of Zaragoza lasts for six hours – all in all there are 24 confréries taking part. Our family, however, lasted less than half an hour. Our boys are still very small and for the two-year-old, the constant and heavy drumming and what he called the witches – the participants with their covered faces and cylindrical hats (capirotes in Spanish) - were quite scary.

We did not have time for sight-seeing, but will come back, possibly already during the summer and Expo Zaragoza 2008. A word of advice for anyone who plans to go within shortly, is to look out for temporary road signs. Our new GPS (a tomtom) had a tough challenge with all the detours – those of the procession on top of those which are there due to the Expo - so we were struggling to find our way through the construction works at the entries and exits of the city.

I am convinced that the procession of Zaragoza was bigger and more exciting than any of the Catalan Good Friday traditions, so I am happy to have been “crazy” enough to change my plans. But I would not promise that it will happen again.