Day 18 – Bilbao

We slept-in this cloudy Sunday morning, which was a good way to start our planned low-key day. The plan was that there was no plan except to go to 11 o’clock Mass. We were excited when we read on the Santiago Cathedral web page that the 11 am Mass was bilingual. In no real hurry, we dressed and walked to the old town while window shopping as we strolled the cobblestone streets. Arriving at the Cathedral doors, we instantly realized what “bilingual” Mass meant. There was a sign welcoming all worshipers to Donejakue Katedrala (Basque) or Catedral de Santiago (Spanish). We sat reverently through the service without a clue what was said for the next hour. Tom was raised that two things must happen on Sunday; you should go to church and you must call your mother no matter where you are in the world. Both of our mothers are gone, but we can uphold the first duty of Sunday, no matter the language.

While we were in church, the sun had come out and it was turning into a beautiful day. We found a café, which is not hard to do in Bilbao, and ordered coffee and churros. Of course, with chocolate for dipping… sooooo good! Feeling that Spanish immersion had begun to take hold of us, we just sat in the sun in no real hurry and nowhere to go. Those around us were doing the same thing. This must be Sunday in Spain.

Leaving the café with pep in our step from the churros and chocolate, we headed to Plaza Nuvea to see what was happening on a Sunday. The plaza always seems to be jumping. The center square had become multiple football fields as the children played, dreaming to be in the upcoming world cup. Once again, surrounding the plaza were the parents eating and drinking, but Plaza Nuvea was the children’s domain!

After lingering for a while in the plaza, it was time to head back to the apartment to chill. Not like the morning had been stressful, we just wanted to read and get ourselves organized for an hour or two. Bilbao is a beautiful city, but signs of the old city are still present. A tall tower looms over the church from the industrial days and we are pretty sure the graffitist is expressing their political desires for País Vasco.

As we returned to the apartment, we passed what looked to be a protest of some kind with speeches and music. The group were waving Bolivian flags as many onlookers just walked by with little to no interest.

After a short respite, we decided to seek out a pintxos place that had been recommended by Ricardo, the winemaker in Bierzo and seconded by the sommelier on our visit to Descendientes de J. Palacios. We headed out to find Bar Mugi, which would take us to an unexplored region of the city. The streets were much wider with a mix of shops and private residences. There were multiple plazas and walking streets along the way. The number of children out playing with little to no supervision was good to see and reminiscent of our childhood when mom would send us out to play with the only warning to watch out for cars.

Bar Mugi was packed when we arrived. Inside and out, there were people everywhere enjoying food and wine. Unfortunately, the bar would be closing in 45 minutes and the choice of pintxos had been greatly reduced by the crowd. An outside table cleared and we grabbed it! Tom maneuvered his way to the bar grabbing a couple glasses of Txakoli and a pintxo to share. If you have never tried Txakoli from the Basque region we highly recommend you seek it out at the wine store you frequent. This bright, sometimes slightly effervescent wine is low in alcohol and full of flavor. Often compared to Portuguese Vinho Verde but has an entirely different taste profile. Turning our glasses to look at the wine, the beautiful day reflected above us.

It was our hope to have a pintxos dinner at Mugi, but that was not to be. We set off looking to grab something to eat before everything closed until 8:30 or 9:00. Finding a restaurant not far from the bar, we were the last to be seated before they closed. On the menu was an Iberian Pork dish that Tom was excited to order. When it came it was like no other pork dish he had eaten.

The pork, on what most Americans would call rare, was covered in sea salt and fried with a crispy skin. Sitting on a bed of onions and potatoes, the dish was very good! However, its effect on Tom’s blood pressure was immediate! Simply put, his doctor would never approve! Janet went with a salad that was much safer, but not very good. We headed back to the apartment to rehydrate and try to flush out the salt with copious amounts of water.

As evening came, we ventured out once again for some fresh air. The city was beautiful and the night sky provided a nice contrast to the lit buildings along the way. The city was quiet and very few people were out.

Once we crossed the bridge, a noise could be heard in the distance. Stopping and listening, the voices of children having fun broke the silence of our peaceful walk. We could not help to think of the Santana song, Let the Children Play, as we sat and watched the fun in motion!

Our goal of low-key day had been achieved and it was time to call it a night. For tomorrow, another adventure will begin.