There are lots of things to love about Europe. One biggie is the transit system. So we decided to capitalize on it with a quick trip from Bordeaux to Bilbao, Spain. Google said we could do it, after all … And after a curt “c’est pas possible” from the initial train assistant, a little persistence from yours truly revealed that indeed it was. 

Bilbao was a cool adventure we were rather proud of ourselves for undertaking. We rode the SNCF for three hours to the edge of France and then switched to a Spanish line, Euskotren, for two more legs and a total of another couple of hours. There’s something simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary about a train ride: viewing random towns and countrysides as you speed past; checking out your fellow passengers, their companions, conversations, attire; avoiding unnecessary eye contact with unwaveringly officious conductors; imagining the stories of all the above … all the while being lulled by the myriad sounds and cradling of the ride itself. Everything is infused with a touch of magic, mystery, and romance — the perfect backdrop for boundless drama.

That said, with the exception of the inevitable fare dodger and one small delay, our trip was drama free, everything ran smoothly, and we arrived in beautiful Bilbao that evening. We stayed at a lovely hotel — they had me at the free glass of cold cava upon arrival — a short walk from the Guggenheim, and the weather was a pleasant ten degrees warmer than Bordeaux. The first night we spent eating overpriced and underwhelming tapas, and unintentionally wandering in the (belatedly apparent) seedier part of the ‘hood. The next day we got it together, though, starting with an outstanding day at the Guggenheim. The internal architecture in and of itself was stunning, and one exhibition in particular — by the previously unknown to us artist Maria Da Silva — was everything you want art to be: unique, provocative, and exceptional. The other floors showcased contemporary art, which was (as always) hit and miss. We had an appetizing lunch at the museum restaurant, and finished the day with a relaxing stroll by the water.

The following day we visited the Fine Arts Museum (unfortunately the permanent exhibit was closed due to construction), a couple beautiful cathedrals, a more-like-it tapas lunch at La Ribera Market, and an evening kicked off with a traditional Basque dance and music performance and an unexpectedly expensive-but-pretty-darn-delicious dinner. (Recommended by our Guggenheim waiter, by the way, who said that was where he and his colleagues ate. And to whom I now ask in absentia, “How much are they paying waiters these days?”) Anyhoo, it was good, we were satisfied, and that’s all she wrote.

We left the following morning at 8:30, since our final train to Bordeaux was at 4:00 and T likes to be at airports, train stations, bus depots (you get the picture) a minimum of three and ideally five hours prior to departure. Clearly some past travel trauma necessitates this behavior, and perhaps I even had a hand in said trauma, but really … We made it back to Bordeaux in good form and enjoyed our last few days in the city before heading back to Athens, then Marina del Rey, and after an incredible three months in Europe, finally back to the Bay Area for a petite visite prior to resuming boat life in Mexico.