When I was planning our trip to northern Spain, allotting one evening to Bilbao seemed more than adequate to accomplish the only thing I was told made Bilbao worthwhile (the Guggenheim). But that one evening passed too quickly, and when midnight found us at Claudio's in the old town working our way through a plate of local jamon and chistorras, I regretted our rash decision to book tickets on a bus out of town at 9 the next morning.
My new-found love affair with Bilbao took root in the fertile ground of low expectations. With everyone from the New York Times to our Spanish friends in Pamplona telling us Bilbao is nothing special (save, of course, for Frank Gehry's massive monument to modern art), we were free to discover the city for ourselves.
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| Jeff Koons' giant puppy welcomes the city to the museum |
Of course, the museum is all that and a bag of chips. Its shape both inside and out is fluid and mysterious; it spills over into public spaces filled with public art, along the riverfront in one direction and into the city on the other. The cavernous and curving galleries are best suited for modern art of the giant installation variety, some of which we really liked and some of which was beyond us. Of our eight precious hours in Bilbao, we spent three on the museum - but the other five were equally memorable.