One more piece of innovative Bilbao starchitecture to go, and it really is the last. Because it’s the main airport terminal, designed by Santiago Calatrava and built in 2000. The locals call it La Paloma (the dove) because of its swooping shape. You don’t really get that from inside but the departure lounge has a big window.
And that was it. As it’s the last post of the trip I thought it would be a good idea to round up some observations and tips that have come to me over the past couple of weeks. And to do it as though someone else had been asking the questions. Well, it seemed like a good idea.
Where’s the best place to go for a lovely, chilled afternoon meal in Bordeaux?
Easy one. Try McDonalds or KFC, or do what I did and find a cheap-and-cheerful noodle place.
I keep forgetting that French restaurants don’t serve food from about 2-3 in the afternoon until seven in the evening. It’s quite a shock when you’ve been doing some exploring and mid-afternoon finds you ravenous, but once you adjust and prepare for it it’s fine.
That cross-border train journey from Bayonne to San Sebastián must have been special
That journey was glorious. As I’ve said, the Basque Country is verdant and mountainous, and while “verdant” spells “generally rainy”, that day the sky was blue and the green hills shimmered with light. It was good in a way that the bus kept stopping and running into traffic, it helped take in the beauty of the surroundings.
Yes, it was all by bus. There seemed to be engineering works on the Spanish side that Saturday.
But bus travel is almost as comfortable and convenient as rail travel these days?
The bus terminal was very modern and well-equipped, true. That was in San Sebastián. To get there I had to get to a simple bus stop about twenty minutes walk from Bayonne train station, past the dilapidated old port buildings, a bus stop with nothing except some dodgy-looking buildings. When the bus comes, if you’re not dragging your luggage down the narrow path at approaching the speed of light, some unpleasant old local behind you will complain. Next time I’ll check the railway engineering timetable.
You seem to be a bit of a …troublemaker?
No it was her and she was very snotty…oh hang on, you mean …you mean all that stuff…the other, civil disorder stuff…
It was just timing, believe me. I arrived in France just as school students were leaving class and taking to the streets to protest against underfunding in education. While it got seriously nasty in various French cities, the demo I saw in Bayonne looked rather free-spirited and good-natured, rather like the town itself. If there was any trouble later on, I didn’t see it.
I then crossed over into Spain. Was that the end of it? Take another look at this photo of Bilbao I put up in the previous post.
Do you see the tents?
Earlier this year a woman was evicted from her apartment in Madrid when the investment fund that owned it jacked up her rent to get rid of her. It’s a common practice in Spain that was causing a lot of aggro, but this one broke the camel’s back. The woman was 87 years old.
After the uproar the fund invited her back but she never returned, sadly passing away while I was in Spain. Meanwhile the uproar had turned into protests that eventually forced the government to call a general election. Tent cities appeared throughout Spain, including this one, to highlight the housing crisis.
It just shows you that the great places don’t stop for us, the crises go on as we stroll the lovely streets, admire the great sites, enjoy the fabulous cuisine. All we can do is briefly enter into the lives of the people who privilege us with their hospitality and respect them and listen to them. And thank them, as I do here, for such a lovely time in France and Spain.
I knocked out those last three paragraphs on the train home from the airport. No sign of British public order breaking down into mass rioting yet. But give it time…
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