Bilbao was never on our original plan. It was a last-minute addition to our itinerary. We had two options: take a slow, leisurely drive back to Madrid with stops in León and Segovia, or make a mad dash to Basque Country all the way to San Sebastián. No surprises, we chose door number two. We debated between Bilbao and San Sebastián until one of S’s friends said Bilbao was down to earth, like him, while San Sebastián was posh and happening, like another colleague. Naturally, S, who knew them both well, wanted to test the theory for himself. So we left Oviedo bright and early with Llanes penciled in as a coffee break stop. But the day turned out to be one of those travel surprises that remind you why impromptu plans are often the most magical.
Llanes, that seaside Asturian village, looked as though it had been lifted straight out of a storybook. We stumbled into its old neighborhood church, with its stone walls draped in bright pink bougainvillea. The church bell tolled and families with strollers and elderly neighbors slowly filed in, giving us a fleeting glimpse of local life.
The streets surrounding it were narrow and charming, and we discovered that certain cobblestones had words embedded into them. We followed it like a treasure trail only to realize that there were fragments of poetry literally embedded into the pavement.
From there, we walked down to the coast. Llanes is famous for its painted rocks, giant cubes of concrete along the seawall covered in bright colors and playful designs by artist Agustín Ibarrola. Standing on the promenade, we could see it all: the kaleidoscope of painted blocks, a little canal winding through the town, the rolling Asturian hills in the distance, sandy beaches, and the impossibly blue Bay of Biscay waters. It was postcard-perfect, one of those we-holidayed-in-the-tiny-village-by-the-sea vibes.
Eventually, we pressed on toward Bilbao, thinking it would just be a quick pit stop before San Sebastián. We parked in a mall (our go-to parking spot when we can’t find one nearby) and walked to the famous Guggenheim Museum and wandered around the external exhibits. Not being huge art aficionados, we didn’t venture inside but we were fascinated by Jeff Koons’ floral “Puppy,” a 40-foot West Highland terrier made entirely of live flowers. From our vantage point on the La Salve Bridge, we could see Louise Bourgeois’ massive spider, “Maman,” standing guard outside the museum. We were content with just enjoying the outdoor art and were considering moving on until our cab driver casually mentioned something about a whale parade. A big parade, we thought, clearly something was lost in translation. But no, he meant exactly what he said.
It turned out we had stumbled into Bilbao’s Aste Nagusia or Semana Grande, the city’s most important annual festival celebrating Basque culture. The city center was blocked off to traffic, but our cab driver sweet-talked the police and dropped us right into the action. Suddenly, we were surrounded by the buzzing energy of Semana Grande: music tents tucked into corners, children’s games at intersections, rows of food stalls, and people everywhere waving their signature blue bandanas. Street hawkers sold everything from whistles to festival t-shirts, and the atmosphere was pure carnival. We dove right in, hopping from bar to bar sampling pintxos, pronounced peen-chos, the Basque cousins of tapas.
Heartier, more bread-based and individual bites, they came in all varieties: traditional bites with anchovies and peppers, creative modern combinations with squid ink and cheese. Each plate was more tempting than the last, and we washed them all down with glasses of Txakoli, pronounced cha-coal-lee, a crisp, slightly sparkling Basque white wine.
Just as we thought about leaving, we realized the whale parade was beginning along Bilbao’s Gran Vía. And yes, it was an actual parade of giant sea creatures. Massive whales, octopus with giant pink waving tentacles, shimmering mermaids popping out of large shells, and a huge colorful crab with enormous claws. Each float had its own troupe of performers, dancers, musicians, even acrobats, and some sprayed confetti or water onto the laughing crowd. By sheer luck, the parade passed right where we were standing, and suddenly we had front-row seats to this surreal spectacle. We knew we had to leave but kept saying “just one more float,” because we were eager to see the next one. Bilbao, which we had imagined as only a pit stop, ended up as an unexpected, authentic, and lively stop.
And S’s friend was wrong. There was no way that this city wasn’t happening or lively. A happy accident in our itinerary that became one of the most unforgettable days of our trip.