Basque Land - Bilbao and Northward to France

Back when Emily was in high school, she/we played host in Atlanta to an exchange student from the Basque region of southeastern France. Cecile was a sweet girl, Emily's age, but quiet, as the language barrier was there. Her English was rudimentary, and while Emily was studying French and Ann has some Francophile language ability, we communicated a lot with smiles, hopeful glances and very basic French and English. We took her around (try explaining Stone Mountain and the U.S. Civil War to a 15 year old French/Basque schoolgirl - it's a lot easier just to climb the mountain. Which we did.) Sometime later, on a family trip to France (referenced earlier) Emily got in touch with Cecile to plan a rendezvous. Her parents insisted that we visit them and proceeded to treat us like royalty when we got there. Oh, and they owned a boulangerie - how lucky were we? The years have clouded a lot of specifics, but still clear to me was the outstanding hospitality we enjoyed, and an increasing awareness of and sensitivity to the "other ness" Basques feel, whether in France, or in Spain. Now here I am on the Spanish side, seeing the fierce pride the Basque have about their history, their geography and their culture.

In addition to general sightseeing in the Old City (where I stayed) and two trips to the Gehry Guggenheim, which I'll get to, I did a full day tour to the towns and countryside north of Bilbao. Never having watched Game of Thrones on tv (although I'll admit a huge crush on Emilia Clarke), I didn't appreciate the show's connection to Dragonsgate, but you don't have to be a fan to be somewhat blown away by the rugged beauty of the peninsula and island. There's a lot of steep elevation hiking up and down, but it's worth it. The photos below tell the tale better than I could.

After the hike and the views, we drove to the charming fishing village of Mundaka, a former tuna capital of the Basque region (I had some!) which included a less energetic walk to an ancient chapel and a killer surfing beach.

The final stop of the day was in Guernica (Basque-Gernika), the town which inspired Picasso's masterpiece. Our guide, Pilar, hails from the region and told us about the massacre-event that inspired Picasso to paint what is one of his many masterpieces. Readers may know, but I certainly didn't, that the bombing of Guernica was orchestrated by Francisco Franco along with Adolf Hitler. It seems German's chancellor wanted to test the technologies inherent in his new Luftwaffe aircraft and Franco suggested Guernica, the Basque capital, as a good target. Hitler gets a testing ground, Franco gets to destroy the center of Basque resistance. Guernica got decimated. Thousands of peasants were incinerated, and even sheep were machine-gunned in the fields. The city burned for days.

The actual Picasso resides in Madrid (where I saw it in the Prado years ago) but the city of Guernica makes claim to a porcelain tile facsimile in the middle of town that is true to scale to the original.

On a lighter note, we got to explore the Basque legislative assembly building and the rebuilt town square. We learn nothing from the past, it seems.