Friday:
Packed up and said our goodbye’s and it was off to Bilbao on the bus. The trip was uneventful and we went to my grandpa’s cousins house, Anna Marie’s. It’s a beautiful home near the Guggenheim that she shares with 3 of her 13 children, Justo Alberto, Juan Carlos and Borja who all take care of her as if she were a queen. Angelinas, her sister has a flat in the same building on the floor above and we found the two ladies at the church across the street. We all chatted and caught up until about 2:00 am, going to bed tired but very happy to be there. Today is also a milestone that marks the fact that I will be on my way home in exactly 2 months, I’ve been traveling for over 100 days so far!
Saturday:
Went to a proper hat shop to check out the famous berets from the region. On the way, there were several street sellers who had someone keeping an eye out for the police, once they were spotted, the signal went and all the sellers quickly grabbed their wares and ran off, tucking everything into large shopping bags to blend in with the crowds. In the hat shop, the fellow was quite entertaining, showing us the different ways of wearing them and their meanings and how to maintain them, quite an expert. His mannerisms were uncannily identical to my teacher Manuel, I was tempted to ask if they might be related but as they were from opposite sides of the country, the chances were very slim. Went back to Anna Marie’s for some excellent basque food, my cousins are quite the cooks! Took a nap before a large family dinner that included my cousin Christina. I remember playing with her at Castro Urdiales when we were younger and she’s the only one who remembered that I could understand, I just couldn’t speak, I had used my sister as a go-between for our conversations back then. Heard some interesting/exciting news from my cousin Angel in Valdemoro, he might be moving to India! He finds out soon and if so, he’ll be there when I go back in a couple weeks, definitely looking forward to updates. I finally learned where the ‘cha’ came from in Natacha, my grandfathers nickname for me. It’s the basque version of ‘ita/ito’ as in Evita, Pablito, etc. My mom explained it to me when I was wondering why my cousins all had names like Nacho (Ignacio) Merche (Mercedes) and Pache (Francisco).
Sunday:
Met Christina in the morning to check out the Guggenheim, it was crazy awesome! The main installations were enough to make you dizzy and the building itself was incredible. One of the artists featured (Kapoor) was the one that made the bean thingy I saw in Chicago a few years back. I love his work, we had the most fun with the mirrors. We stopped for tea afterwards before going to Arceniega to her family’s chalet for an even larger family gathering than the night before. They chose this place so that the little ones had room to run about and play outside. I met my cousin Manu and his girlfriend Marianne who are the only ones who have made it to Canada so far and intend to return. Back at Anna Marie’s, I got to hear a lot of stories about my grandfather when he was younger, like when he would call home to say he was stuck in the snow so he could stay there longer and how much fun he had been whenever he’d visit.
Monday:
In the morning Anna Marie was making cracks about my hair, suggesting that there were several hair dressers nearby, she’s hilarious! My cousin, Izaskun (Itha for short) came over and she, my mom and I went to the hotel where her father, Nacho, had his paintings on display. He does some great work, I took some photos that I’ll put on flickr when I get back. Itha showed us this shop that had great stuff and I was finally able to find a shirt for Max, my goal has been to find him a t-shirt in each country that isn’t touristy but you can’t get anywhere else. We had lunch and met Marianne and several others at the metro at Las Arena’s to go see Puente de Viscaya which my mom hadn’t seen in forever. This meant going up an elevator and being ridiculously high up on a bridge with gaps between the slats so you can see the water a bazillion meters below your feet and a big hanging platform that carries cars back and forth across the water. I should also mention I’m afraid of heights. I survived the walk across, just barely, then at the end we found out we had to go back the way we had come. I somehow managed to survive again which was good, although I almost tripped a few times because I was trying to look ahead and not down and the boards were uneven. We went for a walk near the beach and checked out the amazing homes in the area before going for coffee for 2 hours where I bonded with my aunt Lupe who has a daughter she says is as crazy as me. We went back home (Anna Marie’s) and had more Basque goodness for our bellies.
Tuesday:
Today I climbed a mountain. I’ve been wanting to do this particular climb since I first heard of it when I was little and first saw it when I was a teenager. At the top used to stand a tower where about 800 years ago all but one of my ancestors where slaughtered and burned alive. The one who survived grew up to have his revenge and rebuilt at the base where the manor and tower still stand and are still in the family. My aunt Anna Marie was quite concerned as I would have to go alone and the last part was quite difficult and she had memories of people who had died doing it so I promised I wouldn’t go further than I felt was safe. I’m not an experienced climber by any means but I have crawled around enough rocks to know what I can and can’t handle.
We took the bus to Castro Urdiales and found the start of the path before getting my mom settled with her cousin Angelines and her husband Pepe at thier chalet in the area. The first part of my adventure involved about 2km of walking uphill on switchbacks which started as roads before turning into muddy truck tracks from the tree harvesting machines, not too bad except the steepness was hard on the legs and there was a bit of navigational confusion as the trucks had created new roads that weren’t on google earth which I had photographed to use as a map. I got to the base of the hard part in about an hour and then crossed the field that fortunately was free of the bulls that had been hanging around the last time my cousins had gone up there. I couldn’t find a path so I winged it and started hiking and sometimes crawling around all the rocks that led up to the top and didn’t look down further than my feet to check for proper footing since it was really steep and I’m a big chicken. It wasn’t too hard though, the stuff I was crawling around in Olympus was harder. Made it to the top before I realized it and sat for a while looking over the village and the sea before making my way down again.
This time there were horses in the field below and since I haven’t been around them much and didn’t know how they would react if I got too close, I stuck as close to the trees as possible even though it made my trek a bit more difficult. The horses backed away when they sensed me and just stood staring and kept their distance. As I got further down, the tree eating machines were back at work and there was no way around that was safe from falling trees and the risk of being chewed up by heavy machinery so I stood by the edge until they saw me and stopped work and moved the beast so that I could get past. Then when I was at the old farmhouse close to where I had started a couple hours before, I got stopped by a pissed off guard dog. I’m officially afraid of dogs after Turkey, especially the angry barking kind. I wanted to run but I knew he would chase me and he wasn’t chained up. I literally froze and was minutes away from curling up in a ball and shrieking like a banshee when the lady from the farm heard the racket the dog was making and hollered at him and eventually had to come out and get him because he was so set on having me for lunch.
Got back to the main road and my uncle Pepe came to get me and brought me to the chalet and I had some lunch while the calls were made to all the family that I had come back in one piece. Apparently the crazy Canadian cousin coming to climb El Pico De La Cruz was kind of a big deal because everyone had been talking about it. We went back to Bilbao after waiting over an hour for a bus in the rain because there were two serious accidents that had shut down the highway. Back at Anna Marie’s, my cousin Elenita’s husband, Vincente, was staying upstairs at aunt Angelina’s while in town for business and he and Juan Carlos where being hilarious. These two are quite the pair and we were all laughing late into the night thanks to their combined ridiculousness. It was a good last day in Bilbao.
Wednesday:
After many goodbye’s and thank-you’s, it was time to leave our lovely hostess and hosts. I really hope to see the sisters again, they’re both incredible ladies and there’s something extra special about Anna Marie who is so bent she can hardly walk for the pain yet she always has this blissful grin on her face and is just so happy. She is to me the perfect example of the ideal Saatvik state I learned about at the Ashram.
We bussed it to what we thought was the Spanish side of the French border and it turned out it was the French side, bonjour France! We went past the ticket composting machine and got my moms suitcase full of rocks over to the platform or the train to Bourdeaux. It’s not really full of rocks but it feels like it as she was given limited edition books written about our family history that weigh a ton. Also, it wasn’t a ticket composting machine but it was where we were supposed to validate our tickets as we later discovered from the disgruntled ticket agent, oops. Our cousin Marie-Christine and her beau, Alain, came to pick us up and thankfully this station had a ramp for my mom’s suitcase. This french branch of the family is via my great grandfather’s first marriage and my grandfather is from his second marriage where the line of San Juan De Santa Cruz comes from. At the house, little Marie, who is now 22 and a University student and is just as sweet as ever, was waiting for us with her beau, Jeremy. We ate ginormous meals while conversing in the bizarre mix of French, Spanish and English which is characteristic of our gatherings. We’ll start a sentence in one language, then switch to another with a smattering of the third without realizing it, somehow it just works.
Thursday:
Marie took my mom and I to San Emilion to tour the beautiful little town and had some delicious crepes. The drive through the countryside in her old VW was my highlight though, so many beautiful vineyards! Afterwards, Marie brought out her photos from when she came to Canada to visit 8 years ago and we reminisced. When Marie Christine and Alain got home, we had another fabulous dinner (good thing I’m going back to India to lose the weight I’m putting back on) and I showed them my photos from India until everyone started falling asleep and we called it a night.