Stopovers in Northern Spain: Santander and Bilbao
Until recently, the north coast of Spain has been, for me, fly-over territory: if the weather is good, glimpses caught of the bay of Santander, far below, almost exactly an hour’s flying time until Malaga.
Some years ago, the plan was to take the ferry to Santander and drive through Spain. Alas, just a few days before departure the propellor of the designated ship broke. A hurried switch had to be made to the welcoming arms (or wings) of Ryanair.
This year, at last, the crossing was achieved on a huge and very new ferry, the Santona.
It was a comfortable journey, underwritten by good weather and the ship being only half full. We arrived in, rather than over, Santander.
At this point in our travels there was no lingering in Santander (that would be for the return). It was onwards to the winding, up and down, busy, and sometimes coastal motorway to Bilbao, a city whose centre is approached through areas of unattractive industrial buildings and boxy high-rise apartments.
I had no prior conception of Bilbao, except as the location of the feted Guggenheim Museum. I knew it had a port (an alternative ferry destination to Santander), but soon discovered that the port is some distance down river – not part of the city itself. Furthermore, the notion of a “port” city suggests a place that is relatively flat, at least to seaward. But Bilbao is surrounded by hills, except for its river valley.
Once the ships did come up the river and dock in the city. In the C20 the vessels became too big easily to navigate the tricky journey, if at all. The port was shifted to the sea estuary, and the city centre’s shipping infrastructure gradually became redundant.
There’s a parallel here with London’s old wharves and docks, which have been turned over to offices and housing. But whereas the great symbol of London’s Docklands’ regeneration is the financial district of Canary Wharf, a density of prestige offices without any soul except money, Bilbao opted for the far more daring venture of the Guggenheim. It did not arrive like manna from Heaven.
The City asked the Guggenheim Foundation to sponsor the museum and paid the Foundation many millions for the architectural and building costs. Surprisingly, the wonderfully chaotic creation came in at or just under budget. The Foundation supplies much of the art, on a rolling basis (like the Pompidou outreach museums); other art was commissioned from big modern names – and Bilbao had, at the turn of the century, an attraction drawing huge numbers of visitors and their €s. The return on the investment is, as they say, very positive, benefiting the wider Bilbao economy as it replaces lost industry with services. The ominous cruise fleets now call, bussing their captives in for museum, restaurants, and shopping.
Central Bilbao is a place of wide boulevards and grand C19 town buildings. There’s an area of a few medieval streets clinging to the river’s northwest bank, centred on the small cathedral, which is thankfully mostly free of the livid iconography of the Spanish counter-reformation.
The centre, old and more recent is easily covered on foot.
One social phenomenon I noticed: in the haut bourgeois avenues and parks, many cafes are almost exclusively full of well-dressed women of middle age and older, meeting their friends – all in in a reversal of the male dominated café culture of much of Spain elsewhere.
The Guggenheim is well displayed by its riverside location. Its appearance is indescribable in conventional terms. Its shapes resemble something that has been rescued from a giant metal crusher halfway through the process of producing a cube, when no angles make sense.
Inside there are big galleries of permanent modern artworks and temporary exhibition (good ones when we visited). It reminded me of the Arsenale displays in the Venice Biennale- but better lit. The weirdest and possibly most impressive permanent work is a sinuous, convoluted 100 metre structure of metal walls and small mazes.
Prominent notices warn excitable visitors that the hidden spaces are under video surveillance, in case any are tempted to engage in excitable conduct within.
There’s another, now overshadowed art gallery: the city’s Museo de Belles Artes. It was not very busy, in spite of free entry. Its collection is not on the whole a big draw. This is unfair. It has many scattered gems, including three charming portraits by Goya (the best artworks in the City?) and a sublime Cranach. All these may be inspected in near empty galleries.
The unwary visitor to Bilbao must beware the grassy tramways. In many other places, green grass and tracks might suggest mechanical abandonment and nature’s triumph. Not so in Bilbao. The ignorant tourist, stooping to pick some local wild flower, is in danger of receiving a modern tram in the small of the back (image courtesy of PG Wodehouse).
Returning some weeks later for the ferry, we spent a day or so in Santander. Very different to Bilbao in being actually on the sea, and very hilly away from it. There are more grand squares than boulevards, though a long and attractive shoreline.
There is also a new art gallery – the Botin Centre. Designed by Renzo Piano (in response to Bilbao?), it consists of two stilted, pod like structures, somewhat like portly quiescent alien invaders from Spielberg’s War of The Worlds.
I think Bilbao wins the visual competition, although the Botin offers stunning views of Santander’s vast bay.
There were various exhibitions in the Botin. The temporary displays were mostly of the type where you have to be told what to think , let alone how to respond (if at all). One artwork was among the most bizarre I’ve encountered. A series of discrete objects that represent the body parts of the artist’s lover (although no part is readily identifiable..). One hopes he’s not a sadistic killer.
But tucked away in a corner were a handful of early C20 paintings from the Foundation’s collection. Here were charming works by Matisse, Sorolla and others.
Given the current exhibitions, I would return to the Guggenheim for the art. I would return to the Botin for five minutes inside, and for the view. I’d always go back to Bilbao’s Belles Artes.
July 2023
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