Bilbao and Bizkaia
The next morning I got a late start, and found myself in Bilbao, capital of the Basque country, only in the afternoon. I wandered by the bizarre ship-like Guggenheim modern art museum, enjoying the free attractions outside: two huge light-refracting cubes, interactive motion-triggered fountains and stage smoke, and a puppy-shaped flower bed several stories high.
Then, I turned to the more practical issue of finding wireless access to update my blog and photo album. I found what I was looking for at the offices of Euskaltel, the main Basque telephone company. There, I managed to locate an employee who knew about the advertised free wireless access and provided me with an access code valid for a day. I happily connected right there on the main stairway, and spent the next couple of hours clicking away, getting odd glances from passers-by and especially from the security guards. When I discovered that the "Euskaltelium" also had a free internet cafe, I decided that I didn´t really need to leave Bilbao until next morning.
As usual, I found a reasonably-priced pension in the old quarter (although the owner decided to stiff me for an extra 5 EUR on account of my late arrival). It was Friday night, and the evening streets of Bilbao were crowded with people, from toddlers to the very elderly. This vibrancy of Spanish towns never ceased to amaze me. Here, even in small villages and even on weekdays everything stays open late, and the nighttime streets don´t belong exclusively to young and middle-aged party-goers.
As I sat in the Plaza Nueva, watching a dozen soccer balls being bounced around chaotically by kids often not much taller than the soccer ball itself, I couldn´t help wondering why in the US one hardly ever sees kids (or the elderly) outdoors, except in what are called "bad" neighborhoods. Are those neighborhoods the only ones in which a sense of community still survives?
Then, I turned to the more practical issue of finding wireless access to update my blog and photo album. I found what I was looking for at the offices of Euskaltel, the main Basque telephone company. There, I managed to locate an employee who knew about the advertised free wireless access and provided me with an access code valid for a day. I happily connected right there on the main stairway, and spent the next couple of hours clicking away, getting odd glances from passers-by and especially from the security guards. When I discovered that the "Euskaltelium" also had a free internet cafe, I decided that I didn´t really need to leave Bilbao until next morning.
As usual, I found a reasonably-priced pension in the old quarter (although the owner decided to stiff me for an extra 5 EUR on account of my late arrival). It was Friday night, and the evening streets of Bilbao were crowded with people, from toddlers to the very elderly. This vibrancy of Spanish towns never ceased to amaze me. Here, even in small villages and even on weekdays everything stays open late, and the nighttime streets don´t belong exclusively to young and middle-aged party-goers.
As I sat in the Plaza Nueva, watching a dozen soccer balls being bounced around chaotically by kids often not much taller than the soccer ball itself, I couldn´t help wondering why in the US one hardly ever sees kids (or the elderly) outdoors, except in what are called "bad" neighborhoods. Are those neighborhoods the only ones in which a sense of community still survives?
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 11:59 AM
<< Home