Bilbao is one of mainland Spain's ten largest cities, also the most populous in the Basque country. It's on the country's north coast facing the Bay of Biscay, hence the local province is called Biscay (in Spanish) or Bizkaia (in Basque). The metropolitanarea mostly follows a long estuary flanked by hills, with the city centre about ten miles from the sea. Bilbao used to be a industrial town linked to a busy port but has reinvented itself in recent years as a serious tourist draw. And the building which kickstarted this incredible revolution is this.
It's the GuggenheimMuseum, an explosion of shiny metalwork which opened beside the Nervión river in 1997. The Basque government had seen the transformative power the Olympics had brought to Barcelona and were keen to wave a similar wand over Bilbao. They approached the Guggenheim Foundation with a proposal to build their third great museum (after those in New York and Venice), and they in turn approached the architect Frank Gehry to design the building. He responded with an extraordinary construction of seemingly random curves clad in glass, titanium and limestone, inside which were nineteen gallery spaces of irregular proportions. Not only did the project come in on budget and on time, it had also paid for itself in terms of economic uplift within the first three years. They call it the 'Bilbao effect' and it's proved exceptionally difficult to recreate elsewhere.
The building simply dazzles from whatever angle, whether you're up high on the approach or low down by the river. Stepped public realm creates room to step back and appreciate its beguiling form from all sides, the laminated plates never quite making cohesive sense. The entrance is central but on the lowest level, thus accessed down a long ramp where on-spec visitors hope that not all of today's tickets have sold out. They hadn't the day I went but I chose not to buy one, leaving the mysteries of the internal spaces for another day. My travelling companions had seen it all before and were happy for me to go in but it would have taken a serious chunk out of our day. I thus prioritised 'seeing more of other stuff' over 'seeing some modern art', also the museum was by far the most expensive attraction on my holiday and it would have been hard to justify 18€ for a mere quickfire visit. I did however poke briefly into the cafe, just to say I'd been inside. And I also made sure I met this chap.
This is 'Puppy', an artwork by Jeff Koons which has been standing guard outside the museum since it opened. It's a 13m-high statue of a West Highland Terrier entirely covered in bright flowers, perfectly manicured and the focus of almost as many cameras as the building itself. The other enormous creature hereabouts is down on the riverside promenade close to a shimmering silvery pool. It's 'Maman' by Louise Bourgeois, one of her massive bronze spiders that regular visitors to Tate Modern should have seen at least once. If nothing else this menagerie creates interest for those who simply wander around the building rather than explore inside, which I didn't. I've reassured myself that the art would have looked abstractly familiar anyway, plus it's saved you from having to look at a dozen more photos of the extraordinary architecture.
I made a terrible error walking from the Guggenheim to our next destination, the Artxanda Funicular. I knew the terminal was across the river so headed up the long staircase to cross via the La Salve Bridge. The steps ultimately led to the far side of a six lane carriageway, alas on the wrong side for the classicview of the museum, the pavement then curving at great height onto the eastern bank. To reach the suburb beneath we had to find a walkway underneath the viaduct, then double back to descend a massive tower of steps and hunt for the elevator that would ultimately take us down to the correct level. What I should have done was stick to the riverbank and cross the attractive Zubizuri footbridge instead, a simple-step-free route, and such are the perils of using a contour-free map in an unfamiliar territory.
Other museums we didn't visit include the Basque Museum, the Maritime Museum and the Museum of Fine Arts. The latter has been overshadowed somewhat by the snazzier Guggenheim and, although we walked past and it's free, it's always closed on Tuesdays. But we did visit the Azkuna Zentroa, or Atrium of Cultures, indeed we parked our hire car underneath it. This former wine warehouse was hollowed out in 2010 and filled with a cinema multiplex, leisure centre (including pool), library, auditorium, refreshment and retail. The clever bit is that the interiorstructure is supported on 43columns, each of a different artistic design and each made of a different material. One's spiral terracotta, one's crystalline steel, one's swirly marble and the other 40 are just as intriguing, should you be in the area.
More likely you'll be in the old town where the real character is. The Siete Calles, or Seven Streets, date from the 14th century and form the nucleus of the Casco Viejo where the tourists throng. The first time I stumbled into one of these tight medieval warrens I was inordinately impressed - the narrow period streets, the high balconies, the pavement tables, the tiny bars serving pintxos and somewhere in the midst of things a huge cathedral crammed beside a compact irregular square. By the end of the holiday I was still impressed but I'd seen several of them, one in each city, because that's the way the Basque Country hangs. Bilbao perhaps more than most is a truly successful merger of ancient and modern.
» 70 Bilbao photos on Flickr(kicking off with today's touristy stuff)
» Quiz later...
» Then I reckon another four or five posts should finish it
