Bilbao is ancient and modern. Here where the river Nervion winds out of the mountains to the sea, we wake and wander narrow streets past buildings that were old when Christoforo Columbus found Basque metal smiths to forge the fittings for his ships, and Basque sailors to guide him across the ocean they knew so well. A tiny electric truck slips between stone walls to pick up the night's recycling. We cross the river on a stone bridge and stroll the broad promenade between water and bike path/tramway to where Frank Gehry found modern Basque metallurgists capable of building his vision of a curvilinear Guggenheim Museum. Residents love the 50-foot high flower-clad puppy that guards the entrance. Lost again in the "new" town where stone and steel mingle, we descend through glass and curved tunnels to ride the Metro, zipping smoothly under the river and out to the old port. From the basilica we wind down stone and flower-filled streets to cross the hanging bridge, built in the 1800's to ferry train cars across but allow ship's masts to pass under. We walk past old palaces and pristine public beaches, looking across at the shipyards. Here in the industrial heart of Basque country the water is clean and the city air smells only of sea salt and flowers. Out the door of the tavern where we stop for wine and pinxtos (Basque tapas) giant wind turbines stand across the harbor on the breakwall, where the wind blows in eternally from Greenland. We wind up stone steps through the fisherman's white houses and then drop again down curving escalators to glide back on the Metro, emerging into the ancient old town (Casco Viejo) where we wander lost through tiny plazas of laughing people starting their evening stroll for pintxos and wine. We join them. The menu in our bar is only in Basque, but the dueno is happy to interpret, and an older couple to describe the mountains we'll encounter further south in Navarre. By luck we eventually wander upon our street, Calle Jardines, and across from our hotel encounter (in a city of 350,000) the retired teachers from Valencia that we met on the bus in from the airport. He laughs and says "Of course! El mundo es un panillo!" (the world is a small round loaf of bread, where we will meet and eat together). And in Bilbao, where the ancient past meets the future, and they laugh and walk out for wine and pintxos.
