Searching the Basque Country was one of our primary objectives when planning this trip as neither of us had ever stayed in the area before, and everything we read about this land of proud people had piqued our interest as being somewhere to one day build our new home. Known as Euskal Herria in Euskadi, the local Basque language, the Basque Country is located at the southeastern corner of the Bay of Biscay, straddling the western end of the Pyrenees, partly in France and a larger part in Spain. There are seven historical territories in Euskal Herria; Lapurdi, Nafarroa Beherea and Zuberoa are north of the border, whilst Bizkaia, Gipuzkoa, Álava and Nafarroa are on the Spanish side.
Our Basque exploration starts in Bizkaia (Biscay in English) where we stayed for ten days on the edge of the village of Gatika, about fourteen kilometres northeast of the capital, Bilbao. Once again, we found our “free” accommodation through membership of HomeExchange.com and were delighted to find ourselves in what turned out to be the most comfortable, homely, elegant digs we had, up till then, had the pleasure to stay in.
Our hosts, Gonzalo and Marian, built this beautiful home about four years ago on land they had purchased more than ten years earlier. Gonzalo is a local businessman with contracting, cleaning and waste disposal operations and the opulence of this home gave every indication he had been successful in these endeavours. Our apartment was a duplex annex occupied by the eldest daughter until she left the family nest. The entrance into our living room was, rather strangely, through the large garage on the lower ground floor at the back of the building; our two bedrooms and the main bathroom were on what is the ground floor for the main part of the building, a French window in the master bedroom opening out onto the large family terrace. The views across the valley towards the hills to the north were full of green fields, many with sheep or cattle, forests on the hillsides, charming traditional houses here and there, a church tower and a small hamlet in the distance and on the valley floor two or three small factory buildings, for we must not forget that we were, after all, in Spain’s “Industrial North”.
From this charming home, we set out to discover what Spanish Basque had to offer, starting with a walk uphill to the local village of Gatika, a community of some 1,600 people, best known for the eccentric Castello de Butron about six kilometres away. Pleasant enough, with a renovated church, a school and a small sports centre around a grassy park in the centre of the village, Gatika also has a more modern housing development on the other side of the hill, with a selection of single-family residences and two- or three-storey, apartment buildings. The village is set on the top of a hill with views over the surrounding countryside in all directions. To get there, we walked past a small field full of lambing sheep and their young offspring, lots of beautiful music as little lambs bleated to their mothers, and scenes of gentleness as others rested peacefully in the folds of the sloping field or suckled at their mother’s milk. We soon discovered that ‘leche de oveja‘ was readily available in the local shops and it became a staple of our diet in the region.
Our nearest small town, with around 17,000 inhabitants, was Mungia, five minutes drive away on the other side of the BI-631, the main road between Bermeo on the coast and Bilbao. We spent a couple of hours looking around the town before shopping at the local Hiper Simply supermarket, coming away with a couple of bagfuls of necessities, after entering with the intention of buying just three items, a regular habit of ours. Extensively damaged by Franco’s forces during the Spanish Civil War, neither the town, a concentration of fairly modern 4/5/6 storey apartment blocks, nor the large box-like supermarket on its edge were particularly special, though the latter at least served our needs well for our short stay in the area.The next day we visited the famed Castello de Butrón and found it to be closed to the public and rather decrepit. Mind you Kate Middleton, as was, thought it a suitable place to have her wedding to Prince William, an idea thwarted by royal protocol of course, so it must have some redeeming features in addition to the Disney-like faux architecture.
Driving on up to the nearby coast we found Lemoiz, a small village with a little harbor well protected by an imposing sea-wall which we walked along to get our first close encounter with the unruly waters of the Bay of Biscay, a thrilling contrast to the clear, blue, calm Mediterranean Sea. Continuing our exploration eastwards, we happened upon an eerie reminder of yet another phase of the sometimes-violent past experienced by the Basque people. After a few twists and turns through forests of eucalyptus, the road suddenly took a sharp turn inland for a few hundred metres and circled round a deep little valley, at the sea-end of which was a ghostly nuclear power station. Lemoniz Nuclear Plant was built as part of Spain’s nuclear power expansion plan. Although almost complete, its construction was stopped in 1983 after a change in the national government, and serious opposition by the Basque anti-nuclear movement and ETA, the Basque separatist organisation. ETA had successfully planted two bombs in the plant, killing at least three workers, and had assassinated two senior engineers. Protected only by a broken down wire fence, the site now stands empty and forlorn, a stark memorial to those who died there. Strangely, the nuclear plant is not the only blot on the Basque coastline that has caused resentment among the locals. The huge areas now forested with eucalyptus trees were planted in many parts of the Iberian Peninsular, to provide an important cash crop, raw material for the pulp used in paper manufacturing. Disliked by farmers and environmentalists alike, even nicknamed the “fascist” or “capitalist” tree in Portugal, it is said to create wealth for wealthy landowners and industrialists at the expense of poorer locals and their land and the fabric of rural society. The sight of eucalyptus forests was certainly a surprise to those who know it as being a species native to the Australian continent, and it is easy for anyone with a social conscience to understand why one night, thousands of newly planted seedlings were uprooted by the inhabitants of the small Asturian village of Tazones.
Even though we may not have found our local town of Mungia much to write home about, more impressive was the great city of Bilbao, best known in recent years for the audacious Frank Gehry designed, titanium-skinned, Guggenheim Museum. Built in the mid-1990s on the old port and industrial area on a curve of the left bank of the river Nervion, the museum started off the redevelopment of an area destined to become a centre of culture and leisure. However, our first foray into Bilbao inadvertently found us parking under Areatzako Park on the opposite bank. There we discovered, tucked into another curve of the Nervion, the very lovely old city, with its elegant Arriaga theatre right beside the river, the imposing Catholic Catedral de Santiago (St. James) and a very walkable, mainly pedestrianised warren of streets. Lining the streets were many fine, three to four storey, renaissance buildings typical to this region, in which most of the houses have a combination of open balconies and glazed enclosed verandahs, a design which is undoubtedly the architects’ answer to the relatively high rainfall of the region!
With lots of tempting restaurants around and in spite of the region’s reputation for tapas, I steered us into the “Amarena”, a cosy restaurant well populated by what appeared to be local office workers and shoppers, to sample our first Basque €13 mesa de huéspedes or menù del dia. The excellently cooked Sea Bream was not unexpected in this land, famous for centuries for its adventurous fishing fleet. However, the absurdly delicious braised oxtail, was a definite surprise to someone who normally associates such culinary delights with pretty country pubs in England. Fully sated by our tasty repast, we decided to walk it off by climbing hundreds of steps up to Parque de Maloa for a bird’s eye view of the river and city. Down to riverside level again we discovered the Plaza Nueva and its abundance of tapas bars, their counters laden with tempting selections of “pintxos” which we had learnt was the local Basque name for the famous Spanish tapas. A visit to a big city is never complete without a bit of window shopping and the occasional enquiring foray within, one of which resulted in us coming out each sporting a Basque “txapela” (beret), dark blue Navarra style worn to the front or the side for myself and red Pamplona style worn fetchingly over the right ear for my lady. Our only mistake was buying the cheaper models that turned out to be very ticklish, lacking the finely stitched lining on the headband of the more luxurious versions!
A few days later, we returned to achieve our original objective of visiting the famous Guggenheim Bilbao Museo del Arte. It is, quite simply, a museum of modern art, very little of which appealed to either of us, although the one permanent exhibit, “The Matter of Time”, sculpted from enormous sheets of 2″ thick steel, superbly curved in three dimensions, did impress this one time engineering surveyor familiar with the manufacture of heavy steel structures; all the same it probably left non-engineering types somewhat perplexed. The building itself is an artistic masterpiece in its own right and the star of the show, being the building that vaulted Canadian architect Frank Gehry to a new level of international fame when it opened in 1997. A somewhat eclectic mixture of shapes clothed in shiny titanium, it is definitely striking to look at, enhanced outside by some fun sculptures like the giant flower-covered “Puppy” and every arachnophobe’s worst nightmare, a 20ft high steel spider; and the museum certainly produced the required effect of making Bilbao a leading Spanish tourist destination.
A much more satisfying visit for us, was to the Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao which included in its collection some really lovely Basque paintings depicting interesting slices of Basque village life of yesteryear. And as a small extra fillip, the museum’s cafe served some very tasty pintxos, slices of Spanish omelette, a not-half-bad apple and custard tart and the usual tasty coffee.
Finally, summoning what energy we had left, we walked back towards the river, across the enormous Plaza de Don Federico Moyau, a roundabout large enough to enclose a small park and a fine fountain at its centre, around which traffic flowed, eagerly seeking errant pedestrians, while buses in places drove in the opposite direction . . . a pincer attack on the unwary! Thus Bilbao was a real surprise, a fine combination of a traditional seaport town, a modern elegant business city with handsome architecture, and just fifteen minutes drive to get into the countryside.
Driving further west, and out of Basque Country, we visited the port of Santander, the landing place for so many visitors brought in by Brittany Ferries. The hinterland is very industrial, but the city itself was attractive with sandy beaches, lots of fine architecture and . . . some very tasty anchovy and bochorones pintxos!
And on the drive there we discovered the lovely old town of Laredo, very Spanish, locals chatting on every street corner and washing hanging everywhere.
Spanish Basque Country is much more than a wild rugged coastline and dramatic mountains and so, on our host’s advice, we took a couple of daytrips into the hinterland. The first took us south through the beautiful hills of the Gorbeiako Parka Naturala, to Vitoria-Gasteiz, a city with a hyphened name to reflect both its Spanish and its Basque roots. Unfortunately, we only found out how beautiful the drive was on the way home in the evening dusk because that morning there was heavy cloud hanging low over everything, which took most of the day to clear away.
Vitoria-Gasteiz is the capital city of the Basque Autonomous Community and the Spanish province of Araba/Álava; historically it is perhaps best known as the site of a battle in 1813 that put paid to Napoleon Bonaparte’s attempts to colonise Spain, when his army was notoriously defeated by the Duke of Wellington’s combined force of British, Portuguese and Spanish troops. A fine memorial to this “glorious” victory stands in Andre Maria Zurarien Enparantza/Plaza de la Virgen Blanca, overlooked by the 15th century San Miguel Arcangel Church.
Situated on a high plain about 500m above sea level, Vitoria-Gasteiz, a city of 250,000 residents, is an industrial town in the midst of a large farming area, and is ranked second in its standard of living among all Spanish cities, in particular for its green spaces (“European Green Capital” in 2012) and cultural activities. Whilst we got a glimpse of the former in our efforts to find a parking place close to the city centre, we never got to partake of the second, though we did find ourselves in yet another mainly pedestrianised, elegant old city centre with two cathedrals, neither of which were open during our short stay. The newer cathedral, Catedral de Maria Immaculada, only consecrated in the late 20th century was however, quite notable for its exterior frieze of finely detailed sculptures of goblinesque people, mainly artisans and families, going about their daily lives, an amusing change from the usual collection of religious figures that seem to adorn most of the cathedrals around Europe.
The city also had its fair share of churches, and plazas surrounded by restaurants, sculptures and street art, and was altogether a very agreeable place to visit and wander around. Was it a place that we want to live in or near? Probably not, mainly because of the cooler, humid winter weather and low, for Spain, sunshine levels, factors that are proving to eliminate quite a lot of places from our bucket list!
One day we asked our charming landlord where he would live if he hadn’t got himself settled in his lovely home in Gatika. “Elorrio” says he “I already have an apartment there, you’ll love it”. So, in total contrast to Vitoria, our second sortie away from the coast took us on a forty minute drive southeast from Bilbao, initially along a fairly busy highway through several small industrial towns along the valley of the river Abaizaba, a tributary of the Nervion, as far as Durango, and then following a prettier route through the countryside to the delightful small town of Elorrio, population about seven thousand.
Even small towns like this one pedestrianise their centres and it makes such a difference to be able to wander round admiring all the old architecture without having one’s life threatened by traffic; all the same, scooters still thrive by a law of their own when it comes to traffic signs. We arrived just in time to catch the end of the morning’s market, and purchased from Señor Miguel Angel some smoked pork loin and a tasty roll of sheep’s cheese, ignoring the ‘buzkantzac’, not realizing that Elorrio is renowned for this local version of our favourite, black pudding. The gastronomic diversion completed, we started on our tour of this old town that back in 1964 was declared to be a “Centre of Historical and Artistic Importance”; it has in its midst, twenty-four palaces dating from 16th to 19th centuries, sixty-nine heraldic coats of arms on the walls of buildings and nine 16th and 17th century stone crosses, some of which were beautifully carved, placed at strategic points around the perimeter of the town to guard the citizens against a variety of dangers including the sea, somewhat surprisingly, the sea being forty kilometres away.
The Basilica de la Purisima Concepcion also appeared on the outside to have had some defensive purpose in mind, but maybe was simply built that way to safeguard the most sumptuous display of gold leaf that we found inside. Churches are to be found everywhere in this strongly Catholic country and we were both becoming pretty well “churched out”, but were extremely glad that we allowed ourselves to be beguiled inside this particular edifice, for it would have been truly sacrilegious to omit it from our itinerary. Promenading around towns and inspecting fine churches makes one hungry, so coming out of the church and finding ourselves across the square from “Porra Taverna” was heaven-sent, and to find inside yet more delicious pintxos, and to learn that the town hosts a successful local rugby team, were added bonuses. During a final stroll to help us digest our excellent meal – which cost the princely sum of €11 including coffees for the two of us – we also discovered that the town was renowned in the 15th century for manufacturing fine steel swords.
Taken altogether, Elorrio was a very attractive and interesting place, an impression that was further reinforced as we looked back from the Necrópolis de Argenita, on a hill high above the town. For even on a cloudy day, with its small perimeter of the ubiquitous Spanish high density housing, Elorrio began to look like somewhere we could live one day! And Durango, the nearby industrial town through which we had passed by without a second glance on the way out that morning, proved to have a quite attractive old town at its centre, which we strolled through as the sun started to disappear behind the surrounding hills, enjoying the early evening activity around the old church and marketplace, as children played and parents chatted and the shops started to re-open after the afternoon siesta.
The start of our second week in Basque Country, greeted us with clear blue skies and a bright sunny day with only a small threat of showers, and we decided to explore some more of the coast to the east of Bilbao. Our starting point was Gernika-Lumo in the valley of the Oka river, where in pre-Franco times there was a thriving old village, before it was infamously obliterated by aircraft belonging to Nazi-Germany’s Condor Legion during the Spanish Revolution. Gernika is now a fairly uninspiring modern town, full of yet more high density housing to the west of the river, and an equal area of light industry on the east, though it remains historically the seat of the parliament of the province of Biscay.
Not wishing to waste such a glorious day, we quickly drove northwards towards the Bay of Biscay and stopped off briefly at the Centro de Biodiversidad de Euskadi, an ecological park from where we got our first views of the wide green estuary of the river Oka, before arriving after a short drive further north, at the delightful small town of Mundaka.
A small tidal harbor opens onto the river estuary, the Iglesia de Santa Maria stands on the waterfront, a pleasant mix of old and new, three or four storey apartment houses, bars and restaurants grace the town centre, and the 19th century Baseliza de Santa Katalina faces the sea on a grassy peninsula of the same name, jutting out into the mouth of the estuary from where you can look towards Isla de Izaro and the Bay of Biscay beyond.
A kilometer further north, and directly facing the vagaries of Bay weather, was Bermeo, a town more typical of this region with lots of high density housing, a small fishing port with a fleet of tough sea-going fishing boats, and a boat repair yard.
Driving westward the coast again becomes fairly wild and heavily forested, though with several large clear-cuts and quarries which severely deface whole mountainsides in places. The ugliness of these is, however, well countered by several lookout points along the road that give beautiful views down to the rugged shoreline below, and the small islands of Akatxa Irla and Islote y Ermita de San Juan de Gazteluatxe. The latter is accessible by a rocky path and a stone bridge, parts of a dramatic man-made causeway connecting the island to the mainland, one of the tourist must-do’s of the area that sadly we failed to do . . . but as we were learning, you can do a lot in six months but apparently you just can’t do it all! And while talking about the attraction of some of the small ports along this coast, a couple of weeks later we happened upon the interesting small town of Mutriku, midway between Bilbao and San Sebastian. Founded in 1209 by the Castillian King Alfonso VIII, Mutriku is built on a steep hillside at the end of a small inlet where what is claimed to be the oldest man-made harbour in Basque country protects a small-craft marina. In more recent times, it became the site of the world’s first multi-turbine, breakwater wave-power generating station. With it’s narrow streets climbing up the hill away from the harbor, and steep hills down to the water’s edge on both sides, the town has a rather sombre appearance, but the interesting history makes it a place that should be on anyone’s itinerary to the area. We ended up our afternoon there, people-watching at a café in the old main square, at that time of day when all the families seem to congregate when school is out . . . lively and great fun.
On our last full day in Gatika, we spent the morning enjoying our delightful temporary home, catching up on e-mails and the like. Finally cabin fever set in, but only mildly “in view of the views”, and so we set off on one last walk around the neighbourhood. It was a cloudy day as we set off down a little footpath towards the valley below where we met a very amiable local and his five retrievers, and we chatted away together, neither party really understanding much that the other was saying, until the threat of rain sent us back up to the house.
We then took a drive to Erdigune across the valley and explored a bit more of the area, stopping to look at a couple of renovation projects, sadly, or perhaps luckily, without For Sale signs in view of our tendency to jump when we find ourselves in such beautiful surroundings.
It is certainly a very likeable part of the country, and with low crime rates and good property prices, we prepared to depart thinking it was definitely a place we could live, though it is still not quite ‘the perfect place’!
