Tonight we are in Laredo, Spain.
I have been in Laredo, Texas, long ago in another lifetime, and now Jan and I are half a world away in a town of the same name.
We left Biarritz with a great flair, guided well by Hal this time. Onto the highway and away easily south and west. Very soon we saw the Pyrenees just ahead on the left, and they loomed larger and larger very quickly. We were so unused to mountains throughout our roadtrip, everything has been so flat since Calais. Yesterday especially, low and flat coming into Biarritz, not a hill in sight. Today is very different, the hills and the overall terrain look much like northern California with the pale brown vegetation on the hillsides and the high rolling hills. I suppose the Pyrenees are higher to the east, snow-capped, but not here. They are hills, like Northern California has hills as opposed to the mountains of the Sierra Madre that are further east. Very much the same look and feel to the countryside.
Driving along, 130Km/hr speeds, we passed quickly from France into Spain without knowing it. My eyes are glued to the road, what we are passing and what is passing us, but Jan noticed that the road signs are in a different language now, a foreign, foreign language. French we were pretty OK with, we've seen it on our cereal boxes and labels for years, Canada is bilingual after all. But Spanish, nada, nothing, bingo, forget it. El perro esta muerto, the dog is dead, that's all I know. And 'Dos Cervesas, por favor'. 'Two beer, please'. Its all I ever needed, until now.
Undeterred by reality, down the road we go. Not sure where we are going to end up in, but we think its a town called Gijon on the north coast of Spain. But, as Jan consults the guidebooks, she says 'Hey, lets go to Bilbao. There's a Guggenheim museum there designed by a Canadian Architect'. Sounds good to me, how far is this place? At that point it is about a hundred kilometers away, less than an hour, lets do it.
Getting close the signs warn us, and Hal is getting agitated too, so eventually we take the exit he suggests and head down into the city that we have been seeing from the highway. Now we are back into the world of the roundabouts, that infernal traffic pattern where everyone plays chicken with everyone else and the one rule to follow is never to look directly at the person who is going to try to take your spot. Fake him out if you can, and brake if you must. All things considered, I prefer traffic lights, but they aren't here. We negotiate everything in good order, Jan is watching Hal and the roads he has us on and I am watching the road and the cars and listening for her directions. We are both getting better, and learning to adapt.
We find the Guggenheim OK, but there is, of course, no place to park. So we drive past it and along a road toward the center of Bilbao. And, wonder of wonders, an entry to underground parking appears. We pounce, and disappear underground on the steepest road I have ever seen to a parking garage. My ears popped before we got to the ticket box. After all was said and done we parked and exited up to the Metrotown-sized mall and out into the city. Now where? We lost our bearings in the garage and nothing looks familiar up here on the street. Off to our left, two twenty-something girls air-kiss each others cheeks, one side then the other just like in the movies, and parted, one of them walking our way. We had been told that most of the younger generation in Europe has some English, so Jan and I thought we would give it a try. I said 'Excuse me' and asked if she knew where the Guggenheim was. Jan was standing beside me and I'm sure that made the difference, otherwise she would have seen me as the Dirty Old Man that her mother warned her about. Instead, she launched into very helpful directions that sent Jan and I on our way over the overpass and down the stairs and along the river, right to the museum.
One more time, another young girl, and we made it right to the main door of the building (the building is huge but from the river side there are lots of folds in the surface but no actual doors) and then down the stairs into the museum itself. We saw works by Picasso, Monet, Chagal, Cezanne, and a lot of other Impressionists that I didn't recognize. The art itself you have to take or leave based on your own tastes, but on the basis of the body of work and the overall acceptance by the art-loving society, these people have stood the test of time. There was also a big exhibit of the works of Frank LLoyd Wright, the Architect, a bunch of original drawings and drafting layouts. Most impressive in that a lot of what he did was never built, but he couldn't stop thinking even if people wouldn't build it. Leaving the Guggenheim, we went back to the mall and did some grocery shopping for dinner. Cheese, bread, meat, fruit, milk for the coffee, and a bottle of Bordeaux.
Finally out of there, on the road again. Jan found two choices up ahead, Santander and Laredo. I said lets take Laredo, I like the name, and Jan said fine. We had no hotel in mind from the quidebooks in either case, so when we exited the highway we dropped down the steep hillside into the town without any idea of what we would find or where we would spend the night. Jan talked to a local, and that was very surreal. In the end he gave us directions that we couldn't possibly understand or follow and we smiled happily and nodded and said 'Gracias' with as much enthusiasm as we could manage. He eventually left us, shaking his head, and we drove away relieved to be away from that very difficult conversation. And drove down one street and up another and found ourselves in front of the loveliest little hotel we could imagine. Jan and I looked at each other and said why not, so I went in. The desk clerk had a very useful command of English and in moments we were booked in and paid, 64 Euro including breakfast, such a deal. A lot, LOT, better than France.
So here we are now, typing the page after having walked about the town and taken a bunch of pictures in the fading light. A very lovely place.
Tomorrow, who knows where. Somewhere. Wherever the road takes us. But, we are evolving a plan for this journey.
