July 18: Portugalete—Getxo

My sore throat cleared up and with no sweats, chills, or shakes, I had to rule out dengue fever. The Zika virus is stealthy but a long shot, so I am back on the beat.

This morning we caught the metro (subway) to the neighbouring coastal village of Portugalete.  Founded in the 1300s, Portugalete was originally a commercial competitor of Bilbao.  Today it is part of Bilbao’s greater metropolitan area and a 20 minute metro ride from Old Town.  Across the River Nervion from Portugalete is the sister city of Getxo.  In the old days the wealthy lived in Getxo and the workers lived in Portugalete. To be frank, neither of these cities are, themselves, worth a visit. However, the bridge that connects the two is a UNESCO World Heritage site and our ultimate destination.

The Vizcaya Bridge is the world’s oldest transporter bridge, an iron framed structure with an aerial gondola transfer system.  The bridge structure is very tall to permit ships to sail under it. The gondola is suspended from a trolley on the frame by steel cables and holds up to six cars and close to a hundred people.   The trolley rolls along the rails on the frame and ferries the gondola from one bank to the other.  Each trip takes about 90 seconds and costs 50 cents.  If you are more adventurous, you can take an elevator to the top of the frame and walk across the bridge 50 metres above the river.  The bridge was designed by Alberto Palacio, a student of Eiffel, and built in 1893.

When we arrived in Portugalete, the Vizcaya Bridge dominated the skyline and photobombed all of our pictures.  After a cafe con leche for Laurel and cafe solos for Betty and I, we bought tickets and rode the gondola across the river to Getxo. Once on the other side, Laurel and I decided we would trying walking on top of the frame. The elevator was broken in Getxo so we had to go back to Portugalete to take the elevator to the top.  The view was stunning and the walk was exhilarating but not scary.  

Getxo was full of beautiful mansions that line the estuary and coastline.  After a walk along the beach, we caught a metro train back to Bilbao for lunch and siesta.

Slowly our routines are being transformed by something called “Spanish Creep”. Morning, lunch, supper and bedtime have all slid 

towards a later, more typical Spanish timetable. This explains why at 5:00 (a perfectly acceptable Canadian supper time) we had finished shopping and were out searching the Albia district for the venerated Cafe Iruna to have an afternoon cup of coffee/glass of wine.  When we found it, we were not disappointed.  Cafe Iruna was built in 1903 in an ornate style that reminded us of Turkey or Morocco. By the time we got back home and sat down to eat, it was after 8:00 p.m. (a perfectly acceptable Spanish supper time).

I had retired to write up this blog when Laurel suggested that we all go out to an aquatic dance performance that was premiering in a half an hour.  Betty passed on this activity, so Laurel and I rushed off to catch the show.  Laurel is a navigator—she is, in fact, the Magellan* of this outfit—but in a hurry and without a star chart, even Magellan* would have sailed off the edge of the earth!  That is to say, the route to the venue was circuitous and interesting (gritty).  Up, up, up steep winding streets, we ended up in a neighbourhood that seemed to be populated only by agitated young men who crowded the sidewalks and spilled onto the street. Three police vans and a dozen cops with 
weapons on display were not reassuring and increased our anxiety. If not for the grandma toddling along with a bag of cucumbers 
ahead of us on the sidewalk, I would have grabbed Laurel and sprinted out of there.

When we arrived at the performance venue, the lineup was long and winding and it looked doubtful that we would get in.  There were two scheduled free performances of tonight’s show:  A dragon under the seabed,  but we were not able to get a ticket so we wandered around the venue, which alone was worth the trip.  Azkuna Zentroa is a multipurpose venue in an artsy neighbourhood teeming with life at 10:00 in the evening.  The aquatic dance performance was in a glass bottomed swimming pool high above the heads of the audience.   While walking around the the venue, we found a gap in the curtain 
with a partial view of the performance. Described as “a sound and visual fable reflecting on the relation between an individual and a collective based on the choreography, original sound track and lighting ... A dragon under the seabed inverts the public’s spatial vision to literally place it under water.” Watching it certainly inverted our heads and all I could see were two swimmers in neon bathing suits rolling and writhing while ominous music pulsated.  We watched until our necks got sore, then checked out the 43 unique pillars 
supporting the venue before walking home via a Elkano*—sanctioned
 route.

*Magellan is not the best navigator to invoke here as he was killed in a battle on the way home and his 1st mate, Juan Sebastian  Elcano (a local Basque boy from Getaria) actually got the crew safely back to Spain)!