Friday, August 26, 2011

Hola, Spain! - August 25, 2011



                After what felt like weeks of prepping, I finally arrived to Bilbao. In true Spanish fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants style, I walked off the plane and had no idea if my roommate would even be home to let me in to our apartment. A simple phone call from the airport confirmed that she was, and I felt as though Spain was welcoming me with this good omen. 

                Twenty minutes later, I was lugging my bags up four flights of winding, creeking stairs to be greeted by my roommate, Nerea, with a big hug and customary two cheek kiss. Nerea speaks practically no English, but as she gave me a tour of the apartment, I followed her around listening carefully, trying earnestly to understand.  I picked up the gist of most of it – the plan to alternate cleaning schedules, how to lock the door, we’ll split the electricity and water bills, where I can store my food – the usual roommate details. The apartment is small, but cute and clean, and will certainly suffice for my time here. After Nerea’s tour, I unpacked a bit, took a quick nap, and headed out to have dinner with Jessica, the other USF student spending the semester here.

Our apartment's living and dining room
Our apartment's kitchen
The hallway leading to the bathroom
My room, with the doors opening to overlook the street
                My landlord, Monika, had told me that this week was Bilbao’s annual fiesta week. The festival is called Aste Nagusia, or “Big Week”, and it certainly lives up to its name. Jessica and I weaved in between groups celebrating in the streets, many of whom wore the traditional royal blue “Bilbao” bandana around their neck, or had strapped an empty beer cup to their belt, or both. 

The traditional Bilbao bandana


The "traditional" beer cup strapped to the belt
For over a mile the streets were lined with every festival schtick imaginable: food, shopping, games, political statements, performers, dancers, bands, drinking, ice cream, shows … on and on it went. 

Families waiting in the Kids Zone of the Festival

Crowds gathering for another performance

 Culture shock set in quickly as I tried to process it all – the fiesta, the city, the new language, the people, the mere fact that I’m here. Around 7pm I gave in to jet lag and headed back to my apartment in Casco Viejo, elbowing my way through the fiesta crowds to get back to my door. The party that night was over for me, but all night long the crowd celebrated, making a joyous noise that traveled straight through my balcony doors. The joy they expressed made me giggle, but it also made me thankful for my jetlag. The party continued loudly late into the night – but I couldn’t tell you until when - I zonked out as soon as my head hit the pillow.