Showing posts with label turkey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label turkey. Show all posts

Friday, 31 October 2025

2025 Istanbul

Welcome to old Istanbul
Welcome to old Istanbul

12.10.25

Another trip back to the past.  In Istanbul again, 32 years later.  Given the enormous strides that Turkey has made economically in that time, I suspect things will be rather different.  Reading my description of that visit, I am also struck by how little I saw.  This time, I am overwhelmed by how much there is to see, judging by the research I have done – mostly from the Blue Guide to the city.  Which ironically I had when I came before but obviously didn’t read much (although I do mention it).

Last time, I stayed in a small hotel, probably by Taksim Square, judging by my descriptions then.  This time, we have rented an old wooden-fronted house in Beyoğlu, Külhan Çıkmazı (cul-de-sac).  Very wacky design, steep internal stairs, big rooms.  Great position though, in the heart of the real Istanbul, or one of them.

Sitting in the Limon Cihangir café for lunch – self-styled “Kahvaltı Evi”, or “breakfast house”.  We saw this place on the way to the local Carrefour (shades of Tbilisi).  Wonderful district around here.  Very hilly.  Reminds me of Paris in its architecture, plus Lisbon for its gradients.  Dozens of cats everywhere.  No dogs, which is worrying.  This place was packed with families out for Sunday breakfast – a good sign.

Afterwards, out to İstiklal Caddesi – bustling, looks like a parallel universe version of Oxford Street.  Big shops everywhere, but few Western brands.  The picturesque T2 tram passes, looking rather small and ridiculous.  Along to Taksim Square, which I realise is the equivalent of Trafalgar Square, the main locus for public demos.

An elegant gallery off İstiklal Avenue
An elegant gallery off İstiklal Avenue

Then back along İstiklal Caddesi, passing through some of the small side galleries.  One has probably 100,000 small imitation jewels and ornaments on sale.  Like the market by Tbilisi station.  Who buys this stuff?

As we tuck in to the richesse of our breakfast platter – a Limon special of some 12 dishes – the muezzin in the mosque next to us provides the backing track.  As well as various cheeses, scrambled eggs, salad, honey, fried breads, and black olives we had kavut – a traditional Kurdish breakfast paste, and murtuğa, another Kurdish paste, plus muhammara: tomatoes, olive oil and walnut, breadcrumb paste.  All fab, and incredibly cheap.  On the way here, we passed five or six other cafés, nearly all full.  This is obviously where locals go for their meals.  

Obelisk and minarets
Obelisk and minarets

In the Hippodrome of Constantinople, by the broken obelisk.  After light rains, brilliant sunshine.  To here on the T1 tram, after spending 20 minutes buying Istanbulkarts once I had managed to navigate the Turkish-language prompts on the ticket machine.  By the Blue Mosque, six huge minarets soaring into the sky.  Sitting now between Hagia Sophia and the Topkapı Palace.  Past the wall towers marching down to the sea, the Bosphorus, and ships and tankers powering by.  Big queue for Blue Mosque, no queue for Hagia Sophia… very busy around here – all out for a Sunday stroll – and why not?

Back home, after some fun on the T1 tram.  We walked to the stop at Gülhane Park, and took the T1 when it appeared.  Great.  But it turned out it stopped at Eminönü.  We wanted to go further, but that tram would leave on another platform, across from our tram.  Given the speed at which these behemoths hurtle around, chancing it by crossing their tracks seemed unwise.  So we went out through the turnstiles (after an unhelpful station person gave no help), then crossed at the lights to the other platform, and paid our 35 (about 70p again.  Better safe than sorry.

Istanbul's Montmartre
Istanbul's Montmartre

So, a slightly strange day, in that we didn’t formally visit anything.  But I think that I have a good feel for two contrasting areas of Istanbul: here, around Beyoğlu, which turns out to be a kind of Turkish Montmartre, complete with hills, trendy cafés and rubbish.  The other area is that of the big beasts – Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, and Topkapı Palace.  They seem much grander than in my memory: Hagia Sophia is massive and monumental; the Blue Mosque soaring and majestic.  Even the Hippodrome has been spruced up beyond recognition.  For the better, I’d say.  

The transport system is immeasurably better: more efficient, and more complete in its coverage.  Which is great for me and tourists, in all kinds exciting ways.  Also vastly more cafés and restaurants than before.  Lots more money around – Teslas intermixed with big Mercedes.  Road network expanded – on the way from the airport we drove along some very long tunnels, passing under the city’s hills, which sped things up.  We also saw huge boars at the side of the road – a reminder that much of Turkey remains wooded and even wild.  Fascinating to see them so near to the acme of long-term urbanisation, Istanbul.

13.10.25

Hagia Sophia.  We are herded up the steep steps to the gallery – no access to the church/mosque itself.  From here we can gaze.  Not too bad – the majesty is evident, the huge dome, the pillars, the chandeliers floating above the blue-green sea of the vast carpet like holy jellyfish.  New, I think, the discreet covering of frescoes above what was the altar.  Better than scraping them off.

Hagia Sophia
Hagia Sophia

Hard to experience the place intensely enough.  We stand, we stare, we move on.  Certainly puts every other church and cathedral in context.  Just noted the capitals of the columns in the gallery – with feathery fronds – an unusual expression of the composite order.

A feathery Composite capital
A feathery composite capital

Interesting the Viking graffito – that urge to say “I was here”. Reminds me of Egypt, the Greek graffiti on the temple at Dendera.  Some fine mosaics remain, especially of Emperor John II Comnenos and Empress Irene, 12th century.  Beautiful mosaic of Jesus, Mary and John the Baptist, which caught my eye last time.  Amazingly subtle skin hues on the face produced by tiny mosaic stones, they seem painted.

To the Blue Mosque, where there is a huge queue…  In the courtyard, the magnificence is nonetheless evident.  Inside, so spacious.  Four massive columns, four great arches, hemispheres everywhere, sprouting like mushrooms.  Strikingly consistent decoration over the whole surface.  Gives a very unified feel.  Never seen such big columns.  Because there are only four to support the dome.  Western churches have more columns spreading the load.  But the great Mimar Sinan's pupil, Sedefkar Mehmed Agha, really knew what he was doing here.

One of four massive columns holding up the Blue Mosque
One of four massive columns holding up the Blue Mosque

To Hafiz Mustafa café for tea/coffee.  Noodly music in the background.  Fine array of Turkish sweets.  Tea served with a cover bearing a turkish delight; turkish coffee comes with a glass of water – and two turkish delights.  All good quality.

A view of Europe from Asia
A view of Europe from Asia

On the boat to Üsküdar - Asia. Ship holds 600 – an A380 on water.  Sun out among clouds.  Heaven.  A fifteen minute trip, great views.  In Üsküdar, along to the Boğaziçi Balık Ekmek restaurant.  Mainly fish, as its name suggests.  Great view across the strait.  Muezzin and boats’ horns vie for aural attention.  Interesting group next to us: Asian, but not Chinese, Japanese or Korean.  Kazakh maybe?  Income rising, direct flights… Or maybe Mongolian, in a similar situation.

After lunch (not spectacular), a walk around Üsküdar.  Very lively – nothing touristy here.  Reminded me of the backstreets of Fethiye.  Tranquil Yeni Valide mosque (but only saw the outside).  Now on the ferry, I hope the right one (we boarded quickly).

Almost Venice in Karaköy
Almost Venice in Karaköy

It wasn’t, because it went to Karaköy, but that wasn’t actually a problem, since that location was nearer to our accommodation, and didn’t require further transport, just a walk along the shore north from the quay.  The area felt like Venice, which is no surprise given the real similarities.  Our boat was like a vaporetto writ large, and the journey just a bigger move between localities on the water – one that just happened to be a factual journey between Asia and Europe.  Such is the quotidian wonder of Istanbul.

14.10.25

In the Basilica Cistern.  Even grander than I remember.  It looks like a huge 21st century artwork.  For example, I hadn’t noticed the corinthian capitals – which no one would ever see…  That’s real art.
 
Heavenly mathematical architecture
Heavenly mathematical architecture

Failing to negotiate a taxi, we are walking to Süleymaniye mosque.  By the Grand (covered) bazaar, Nuruosmaniye mosque.  Amazing arches on each side of the building, the full width of the mosque.  After the covered bazaar, a real change of scene: lots of specialist shops selling one thing: buckles, toys, pots, glass boxes, all very cheap.

That's what I call an arch
That's what I call an arch

To the mosque, passing Sinan’s tomb.  And now in Mimar Sinar café, with stunning views of Süleymaniye mosque, the Golden Horn, and the Bosphorus.  Sun trying to shine through the clouds.  Amazing view to the left.  Up the Golden Horn, the car bridge, the metro line bridge, then Galata bridge leading to the Bosphorus.  Asian side hazy, the new and growing financial district wreathed in smog.  To the right, the Süleymaniye mosque.  Its subtle architectural layers visible, surging up to the great dome floating about it all.  

One problem here: wasps, lots of them.  Fortunately, the café is prepared: a man with an electrocuting racquet – very effective as it crackles wasps to death…  In Süleymaniye mosque.  Magnificent; the striped arches of grey and red lend nice variety.  The great pillars discreet.  Big muqarnas (honeycomb vaults) in the corners.  

In Süleymaniye mosque, even the muqarnas are big
In Süleymaniye mosque, even the muqarnas are big

Long walk through Old Istanbul (of which more later), then T1 tram to Tophane, up the hill to our local restaurant zone, not to Limon, but Cihangir Manticisi – for three kinds of manti, plus çi borek, green beans and tea.

So, to reflect on the day, something hard to do calmly on the hoof, mostly a huge success.  The cistern was not too crowded, and so retained most of its mystery.  It’s an odd place: unmissable, and yet minimalist – there’s almost nothing there except the implausible fact of its existence and survival.  It’s the perfect sight for a mathematician – all x-y coordinates and x=y diagonals.  The modern visit well laid out, with a pathway to the weird Gorgon heads, then back.

Mimar Sinan's tomb, designed by himself
Mimar Sinan's tomb, designed by himself

From there, we failed to find a taxi to Süleymaniye mosque.  So we walked.  Through one side of the covered market – which we will visit properly on Friday – then up north, then east to the mosque.  To give some energy for proper enjoyment of the masterpiece, we took tea/coffee at Mimar Sinan café – just by his own tomb.  Stupendous views across the confluent waters, and of the growing number of skyscrapers on both the European and Asian sides.  I predict Istanbul will become like Shanghai in a decade or so, with thickets of high-rise blocks.

A view across the Golden Horn, towards Istanbul's future
A view across the Golden Horn, towards Istanbul's future

Then to the mosque.  Even from the outside its massive power is evident.  Inside, even more so.  Much better than the Blue Mosque, which isn’t even really blue.  Süleymaniye varied and attractive.  Also fewer tourists here compared to the Blue Mosque, which was heaving and smelly – all those stinky tourist tootsies exposed to the air.

Inside the tomb of Sultan Suleiman I
Inside the tomb of Sultan Suleiman I

Then to the türbeler - the tombs: first of Sultan Suleiman I, with its circumferential band of calligraphy, and multiple tombs – sultans wearing what looks rather like a chef’s toque.  The other türbe, of Hürrem Sultan, his wife (also known as Roxelana), more intimate, covered in very fine Iznik blue tiles – a big discovery for me on this trip.

Inside the tomb of Hürrem Sultan
Inside the tomb of Hürrem Sultan

After the tombs, we made our way back down the hill into the old heart of the city here; passing along Fuat Paşa Caddesi.  We had already taken this route coming, noting the weird Ottoman radio/TV/microwave tower (well, Beyazit Tower actually, but bristling now with all kinds of incongruous hi-tech growths).  Alongside the road, on the east, a huge building site.  I fear this is likely to be the fate of much of the nearby area, which is a warren of streets and lanes.  Which is why I was really keen to see the Büyük Valide Han in the heart of this area.  

Once this was an important inn for travellers to Istanbul.  Today, it is an extraordinary old building, built around a courtyard, which has a mosque in it.  The outer buildings are now workshops and shops, on two levels (sometimes three).  There are stairs to take you up to the first floor, that feel rather like those of a Cambridge quadrangle and its student rooms.  But upstairs here takes you to a place that is clearly on the edge of falling down.  

Inside the Büyük Valide han
Inside the Büyük Valide han

It is dark, with few lights, and all kinds of junk piled in the corridors.  On each side there is an amazing variety of small rooms.  A few are surprisingly glamorous showrooms.  Others are simple workspaces, with people cutting cloth, or making jewellery.  Some are half-bare rooms full of tools and equipment, a few men working with pieces of metal.  One or two are on two floors, with internal stairs rising to another level.  In one corner, there is a café, supposedly with a fine view of the sea.  Since we had already enjoyed a fine view from Mimar Sinan café, we gave this a miss.

Atmospheric corridors in Büyük Valide han's upper storey
Atmospheric corridors in Büyük Valide han's upper storey

The place feels like a lost, or rather vanishing, world, a reminder of similar workshops that have existed across Eurasia for thousands of years.  It was a privilege to see it now, as a still living space.  But for how much longer? The huge development nearby seemed like a premonition of the fate this one might soon undergo.  The value of the land around will be too high for this simple world to continue.  Surely the developers will move in and tear down this hidden magic realm…

Ancient buildings in the backstreets of old Istanbul
Ancient buildings in the backstreets of old Istanbul

To savour this experience to the full, when we emerged from the han, we carried on down Çakmakçılar Yokuşu (meaning "slope") and then turned down Fincancılar Sokak, past some ancient buildings made of crude stone blocks and mortar.  The streets were narrow, and packed with people – but not tourists.  This is where the Istanbullular shop.  One clear indication of that was the presence of prices on goods: (a) they were shown (unlike in the more famous bazaars) and (b) they were incredibly low (again, unlike the prices demanded in touristic locations).  The sights and smells here were wonderful: goods packed to the ceiling, spices and foodstuffs spread out for customers to inspect.  This was a timeless scene, one whose roots stretched back thousands of years, and familiar to me from my travels in Central Asia and India.

Sights and smells of old Istanbul
Sights and smells of old Istanbul

We followed Sabuncu Hanı Sokak to the Egyptian Bazaar, and skirted around the latter.  The air here was full of the rich smell of coffee – there was a shop of the Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi chain.  We turned left along Hasırcılar Caddesi to reach our goal: Rüstem Pasha mosque.  Alas, we had come too late, and it was closed for midday prayers.  Moving past it, and turning right brought us to the main street by the Golden Horn, not far from Eminönü and our T1 tram stop.  That took us across to Galata quickly, and could easily bring us back to try again another day.

15.10.25

A strange day.  Up at 7am as usual, down to the T1, then to Gülhane for a change.  The reason being today we visited the mighty Topkapı Palace – literally the “Palace of the Gun Gate”.  Unlike our visits to Hagia Sophia and the cistern, where we received QR codes for our money (big money), for the palace we had to be escorted in.  This meant meeting out guide outside – specifically the City Windows kiosk inside the Chimney Bistro, in Soğuk Çeşme Sokak.  The guide left every 30 minutes, and when we got there the first group had left, so we joined a growing band of tourists milling around, waiting for the next tour.  

Hagia Irene, not open, was left in peace
Hagia Irene, not open, was left in peace

We eventually moved off, and passed under the ceremonial gate of the palace.  Then came the usual security.  Along the way, we passed Hagia Irene, another ancient Byzantine church – not open for visits, alas.  The gate into the second court was rather disappointing – looking like some cheap Disney knockoff.

Multilevel harem accommodation
Multilevel harem accommodation

The guide then took us into the harem – and abandoned us there, since this was a guided entry, not a guided tour.  It was a real warren of little rooms, some single storey, some double, and a few triple.  The decoration varied enormously, reaching a climax in the Valide rooms – mum ("valide" means "mother", and refers to the mother of the reigning sultan) wanted something superior – and those of the sultan.  Lots of gold here – shades of Trump’s megalomaniac vulgarity.  The saving grace is that Sinan designed the rooms for the sultan and the Valide.

Beautiful, but slightly over the top
Beautiful, but slightly over the top

It was hard keeping track of where we were and what we were seeing.  Things were made worse by the fact that I have picked up some kind of cold/flu [narrator: it was Covid], probably in the tram, which saps my energy.  Staggering through the harem in this feverish state was like some crazy dream, and was certainly not conducive to appreciating the beauties.

I seem to recall I had a similar reaction to the palace when I was here 32 years ago, even though I was not ill that I remember.  What’s particularly annoying is that this afternoon I had planned to visit the Kariye mosque – actually the Chora Byzantine church, which apparently has some of the finest mosaics from this time.  It's quite a way out from the centre, and not something to contemplate in my current state.  Ah well, something to look forward to in the future.

16.10.25

On the Long Bosphorus Tour with the Sehir Hatlar boat, 640 for six-hours return ticket.  Pretty good.  Sky covered, but some sun promised.  As usual, we took the T1, this time to Eminönü, in what is now “our” tram.”  Around 100 on the ship currently, which can hold 411 according to a notice on the wall.  There’s something wonderfully primeval about boats.  After all, the basic idea of a thing floating on water hasn’t changed for thousands of years.

Ortaköy mosque by Bosphorus bridge
Ortaköy mosque by Bosphorus bridge

Past Dolmabahçe palace, past the baroque Ortaköy mosque by the Bosphorus bridge.  Near Rumelian Fortress, a flash of dolphin fins.  Lots of river traffic, a real working waterway.  Further north, several fishing boats, hauling in their nets.  Clearly plenty of fish here.  Before, one of the many giant Turkish flags on the hills had eagles (?) soaring around it.  Very green, both sides wooded, with attractive/wealthy villages along the way.

To Kavak Baba restaurant in Anadolu Kavağı for a good fish meal, with a view of the sea.  Interesting that, like Azerbaijan, the toilets have bidets as standard.  But these are built in to the toilet, controlled by a knob to the side.  Very civilised.  Waiting by our ship, which leaves at 3pm.  Wandering through the village, mostly deserted, with few in the restaurants, there's a particular, end-of-season melancholy, as the cold wind rises.

Under the bridge to the Black Sea
Under the bridge to the Black Sea

On the way back, classic framing of tankers sailing out to the Black Sea, under the great, final bridge.  Some big ships: 150,000 tons and more…  Sarıyer: an attractive village on the European side.  Lots of wooden buildings, which makes sense in a seismic zone.  The Asian side here much wilder, less construction.

In the cabin, there are screens with ads.  Great way to lean new words.  Indeed, immersion in Istanbul is highly stimulating.  Striking how many ads are for the city of Istanbul.  Similarly, around the city, there are lots of hoardings and covered scaffolding with the name of Istanbul’s mayor – İmamoğlu – even though (because?) he is currently suspended from office…

Coming home at dusk
Coming home at dusk

Once again, the sun is out – it has come and gone all day.  Currently, the villages are illuminated prettily.  There is a very particular style to the shoreside houses – lots of verandahs, pillars, arches.  Rather like small-scale versions of Dolmabahçe palace.  They look rather expensive…

17.10.25

Aqueduct of Valens, straddling traffic
Aqueduct of Valens, straddling traffic

Out to the Aqueduct of Valens, by bus. Then down to Şehzade mosque – another Sinan number.  Lots of swirling red and white arches, hypnotic.  Through the Covered Bazaar – too trashy and glitzy for my taste.  To another of the old hans – Büyük Yeni Han.  And it is indeed büyük - big, even with the later division cutting it off partway.  Three floors, and even more dilapidated than the nearby Büyük Valide han. 

Büyük Yeni han
Büyük Yeni han

Back now in the accommodation after a long morning spent walking.  The aqueduct was impressive, not least because it has been cleaned and repaired recently, as seen in a video shown on the boat yesterday.  But it’s a strange thing: you go there and see it, and then...what?  There are only so many ways to look at a large piece of ancient infrastructure.

Sinan's hypnotic Şehzade mosque
Sinan's hypnotic Şehzade mosque

The walk afterwards took us past the main city hall – rather uninspiring – and past the Şehzade mosque – a hidden gem, rather off the beaten track.  Sadly, we didn’t have time for the türbeler there.  Past lots of university faculty buildings.  Beyazit Square spacious and attractive in its asymmetry.  Big Turkish flags flying there.  Passed quickly through the covered bazaar – just little of interest there.  Wandered around the real old bazaar nearby, and found another han.  

Back in the real Istanbul bazaar
Back in the real Istanbul bazaar

One thing: in many parts the pavements are made of concrete laid down wet, with a few lines scored to make flagstone-like patterns.  But almost everywhere there are footprints – human and animal – of those in a hurry, who crossed wet cement anyway, to become caught in the act forever.

Out to the nearby Istanbul Museum of Modern Art.  Very swish – and with double security checks.  White walls, plenty of space.  The English translations of the info for each picture very fluent, unlike many foreign galleries.  Some good black and white photos of Istanbul locality not far from here, and others of the countryside – the harsh life under the harsh sun.

Welcome to the Infinity Room
Welcome to the Infinity Room

One striking video piece: Refik Anadol Infinity Room - Bosphorus – a constantly shifting immersive experience, created using environmental data from around the Bosphorus to generate graphic images in a mirrored space – swirling forms that are striking if disconcerting.  The long-held chords emphasise the infinite, floating feeling.  Very effective, unlike many such works.  Also haunting, “Beirut” – video of the windows of the hotel where Rafik Hariri was assassinated.  Nice library on the ground floor, with an exhibition of the works of Renzo Piano, the architect of the gallery itself.

Outside, in the entrance, a blue medallion with an apotropaic eye – of which we saw hundreds around the village yesterday.  Et in Arcadia ego

18.10.25 Somewhere over Hungary

This was an unusual trip in many ways.  A return, but almost to an entirely different place, given the huge changes between then and now.  Also hugely different my travelling.  Back then, I’m not sure I did a great job of hunting out the real Istanbul.  This time, at least, I had a better idea of what was there.  It doubtless helped that this time it was also was much easier to get to these places – transport networks in Istanbul are now dense, if uneven.

Unusual, too, in that I booked three visits – Hagia Sophia, the cistern and Topkapı palace.  In the event, the first two reservations probably weren’t necessary, but it made the days easier.  Shows at least how tourism has become organised – and outrageously expensive (£105 per person for those three sites).  You can’t blame them, but I fear Istanbul will soon have a very bad reputation with travellers because of this price gouging.

Which is a pity, because it is, of course, an amazing place.  One that I feel I have gained a better understanding of thanks to this trip.  For example, the fact that even more than usual, the map is a lie: the city is one of the most three-dimensional urban places on the planet, with multiple steep hills popping up all over the place.  Lisbon may have them too, but not as many, and in as many forms.  I have also understood that the key reference points in the city are the mosques (obviously), and that Mimar Sinan is the world's greatest architect, bar none.

The other big revelation for me was the area around Beyoğlu and Cihangir.  Such vibrant places – not touristic at all, but full of Istanbullular.  Definitely where I would aim to return to for future accommodation.  Of course, there was rubbish, and cats, everywhere in these places too. And precarious building works on every street.  Messy but a sign that Istanbul is still growing, that this huge supercity – 16 million inhabitants and counting – has only just got started.  Who knows how far it will go?  I aim to find out over the next few years.  I’m also keen to explore the east of the country – Trabzon and beyond.  It looks incredibly beautiful – very Georgian and Armenian in its landscapes.  Still so much to discover in Turkey...

Thursday, 16 March 2023

2023 Bilbao

At the heart of Bilbao lies the Guggenheim
At the heart of Bilbao lies the Guggenheim

10.3.23

By the cathedral in the old town.  The smell of drains, and a light rain falling.  A characteristic feature of the houses in this district is the glassed-in balconies – like Turkey and Georgia.  Strange to see them here.

Glassed-in balconies by the cathedral
Glassed-in balconies by the cathedral

Up early today – 5am – then along to the station to take the train to Gatwick.  Which was delayed, and made things more of a rush than usual.  Flight left late but arrived early – only just over 90 minutes.  Bilbao is near, geographically, but so far culturally, linguistically – which is why I am here, albeit for a flying three-day visit.  To see a place I have heard so much of, with its wonderful, mystifying singleton language.

Erribera merkatua by the River Nervión
Erribera merkatua by the River Nervión

To the River Nervión, by the huge Erribera merkatua, supposedly the largest covered market in Europe.  Makes me think back to Tashkent and the Chorsu building, and forward to the great central Asian markets I hope to see soon in Dushanbe and Khujand.  The church of St Anthony with its wonderfully uneven blocks of stone, the old bridge nearby. The main market has closed for the day, but the smell of fresh fish smacks you in the face as you enter.  One side full of bars and cafés, most offering the local pintxos – Basque tapas.

A walk along the river, shadowed by trams and (electric) buses, to the Teatro Arriaga.  Alas, at the moment there is only Hansel and Gretel playing, which I have no desire to sit through, even for the sake of seeing the interior.  The outside is enough – over the top French empire style [Wikipedia says "neo-baroque"...hm].

Teatro Arriaga
Teatro Arriaga

Arriaga is a fascinating figure. Often called the Spanish Mozart, he was more the Spanish Schubert – he only lived 20 years (1806-1826), and coincides with Schubert, not Mozart.  Pretty much forgotten immediately after his death, that has had the happy consequence that the only editions of his works that survive are modern, and freely downloadable.  Sad that we’ve lost quite a few works, but the string quartets plus Overture Opus 20 give a hint of what he could do – and could have done.

In - and above - the Bilbao metro
In - and above - the Bilbao metro

On the metro to Indautxu – mostly to validate my 72-hour city pass – only 20 euros.  Metro modern, but with a design quirk: you enter above the two tracks, then descend stairs to the platform you want.  Curious to see the trains under you, with only a low wall.  Signage in the carriages not very good – Barcelona’s far better.  But very cheap – 80 cents with an Oyster-type card used by most.

North to the Doña Casilda Iturrizar Park, domainted by the looming and rather incongruous Iberdrola Tower – all 40 floors of it.  The park reminded me of the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont made from a quarry in Paris – similarly slopping.  Indeed, much of Bilbao is hilly – part of its charm.

Contrasting architectural styles
Contrasting architectural styles

Now sitting in La Baguerie, a modest little café near Moyúa, which is the centre of the modern part of the city – and where the bus for the airport departs from.  Feels like Saturday, with lots of people out shopping, especially ladies of a certain age.  Nearby the incredible Txabarri Palace – a kind of Basque gothic.  Also nearby the gleaming Iglesia de San José de la Montaña – which is particularly striking when viewed with the Ibendrola Tower in the background.

Plaza Barria
Plaza Barria

Back in the old town, which is really bustling.  To the Plaza Barria (New Square), which is like a small version of the Plaça Reial in Barcelona – complete with palm trees.  Lots of children here, in contrast to the wrinklies I saw out shopping.  Strong wind getting up, but warm – temperature around 21°C
, compared with London’s miserable 7°C…

Back to room to recover, then out into the seething streets – lots of people out drinking, eating.  Great atmosphere.  Along to the nearby Café Lago – I’m too tired to wander far.  Has good reviews and indeed has great buzz.  One thing that surprises me: no one has switched to English when I try to communicate – badly – in Spanish.  Also, I can’t say I’ve heard any Basque, but maybe I’m not attuned to it significantly.  First glass of txakoli – the local white Basque wine.  Very slightly fizzy, but not too much. Nice.

By the Guggenheim
By the Guggenheim

After supper, out along the river towards the Guggenheim.  Lots of people out – and broad embankments just made for walking.  Past the bridge that looks amazingly like the one in Bratislava.  Then on to the huge shapes of the road bridge by the Guggenheim, the Guggenheim itself, and the Iberdrola skyscraper.  The Guggenheim not lit up as I expected, but glorious nonetheless.  Then back to the hotel with the tram, getting off at Arriaga.  Walking back through the narrow streets of the old town, there are so many people out drinking and eating pintxos that the level of noise was that of a small, crowded pub.  Lovely end to a great day.

(The cathedral bell strikes ten...)

11.3.23

The entrance to the Guggenheim, plus cat
The entrance to the Guggenheim, plus cat

On the tram to the Guggenheim.  Such a civilised way to travel.  Ripping them out in the UK was such a stupid move…  A grey day, with rain threatened for most of it – typical for Bilbao, apparently.  Outside the Guggenheim, under intermittent rain.  Cloudy, but bright.  The Iberdrola Tower stands sternly nearby.

Giant sculptures by Richard Serra
Giant sculptures by Richard Serra

Inside.  Standing at the centre of the huge Richard Serra artworks – an enormous spiral of metal – surprisingly claustrophobic as you go round and round – perhaps because the walls are so high, and inward-leaning.  And the fact that there is no quick way out.  The long, undulating ones feel like tiny canyons, and remind me of that feeling created watching the film 127 hours… This gallery is amazing because it is so big – you rarely get to experience space in this way, and the artworks articulate that space brilliantly.  Great demonstration of that: I got lost – or rather lost my sense of orientation, and walked back to the entrance thinking it was the end.

A huge Jenny Holzer installation, with nine illuminated strips rising in a giddying fashion.  All in Basque.  Now Spanish.  Very weird effect of the floor sinking… perhaps because the texts move in perfect sync.  One side is in Basque, the other in Spanish.  One blue, one red.  Both hypnotic.  Oh, now in English…

Inside the Guggenheim
Inside the Guggenheim

Climbing the stairs, the interior looks like a modern version of one of Piranesi’s prisons – all odd angles, stairs, windows, metal.

In Room 202, a witty four photos by Thomas Struth – Audience 06, showing tourists staring at something in Florence – they look up, so a statue maybe.  Nice to see the watchers watched.  They look posed, but aren’t…

In the upper galleries, “classical” Abstract Expressionism.  Amazing sculpture by Chillida – whom I knew of, but not as a Basque.  A huge, brain-shaped rock, richly veined like cheese, pierced by perfectly smooth square openings, in three dimensions.  Wonderful.  As I climbed up here, looking down, the Guggenheim suddenly felt like La Sagrada Familia.  Interesting echoes.

My feet begin to hurt.

On the way out, popped in to the temporary Miró exhibition – his Paris years.  Lots of good stuff; also lots of meh stuff…  Quite busy here now.

Lunch in the market
Lunch in the market

On the tram, straight to Ribera, then into the market for pintxos and wine.  Market open – that fish smell… Great atmosphere here in the food section.  Out to find alcohol – not for now, but to take back.  The light txokali, of course, plus a Navarran/Basque liquor, Patxaran, made with sloes. BM Supermercado well stocked.

Inside Azkuna Zentroa Alhóndiga Bilbao
Inside Azkuna Zentroa Alhóndiga Bilbao

Then past Arriaga Theatre, over the bridge and the along the main shopping street – 
Gran Vía de Don Diego López de Haro – Bilbao’s Oxford Street/Champs Elysee.  Past Moyúa, along Ercilla Kalea – pedestrianised, reminds me of the similar street in Barcelona near La Sagrada (Avenue de Gaudi). Past the Pompidou Centre-like Bizkaia Plaza to here, the very odd Azkuna Zentroa Alhóndiga Bilbao.  Famous for its weird squat columns.  Currently sporting a huge red sun in close up, flames shooting out, projected on to a huge screen hung over a large empty enclosed space.  Always terrifying to think that’s what the sun is doing…  Wandering around, just noticed that there is a swimming pool – above us, with vague human forms visible as they pass over the translucent floor panels.  Spooky…

Don't look up
Don't look up

In the evening, off to the 
Euskalduna concert hall.  Easy – tram all the way.  So I go to Arriaga, the tram comes, we all get on – and the driver tells us all to get out.  It goes no further today, not clear why.  So along to the metro, up to Deustu.  Down to the river, over the bridge – which reminds me strongly of Bratislava – past the huge rusty iron wall of the concert hall – they do love their iron here, one reason Serra was able to go big on it.  Sitting by the bar in the slightly fresh wind, going in soon.

Euskalduna concert hall
Euskalduna concert hall

The concert hall has a really interesting design.  Basically, it’s a huge steel box inside the outer steel box.  Internally, it is covered in a rich golden-brown wood.  Unusually, the side seats are in pews – big sections enclosed on all sides.  I’m at the front of one, since I thought I’d have more leg room, but not with this huge wall I won’t… Fab view, though.  Lots of old people here – well, my age.  Not many young ‘uns.

Inside the concert hall
Inside the concert hall

Programme began with George WalkerLyric for Strings.  Very strong double basses – maybe all that wood.  Performance slightly spoiled by two noises.  First, just before the conductor began, a man blew his nose very sonorously.  Then, during the quieter passages could be heard squeaky voices coming from the headphones of the two camera operators – of which there were at least five in total.  People started moving to get away from it…

After the Walker, Adams’s Dr Atomic Symphony.  I’d only listened to this a couple of times, before, and this performance was much more convincing.  Perhaps because the conductor was a young (black) USian, Roderick Cox.  Worked for me…  Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances good too – bass and brass really belting it out.

After the concert, the rain was bucketing down.  But – miracle – people were waiting at the tram stop, suggesting that trams existed.  And they did, so tram to Arriaga for me, back to my room – and to bed.

12.3.23

To the Museum of Fine Arts of Bilbao.  Early rain giving way to broken clouds and sun.  The museum is free.  Nice mixture of old and new.  Van Dyck Lamentation of dead Christ – great study in downward sloping diagonals.  A roomful of dark Goya prints “A rain of bulls”…  Interesting that there are no explanations in English – only Basque and Spanish.  Nice Ribera of San Sebastian cured by holy women.  Striking how many people around here look like figures from a Ribera painting…  Upstairs to a room with two Ruisdaels – one print, one pic.  I haven’t seen his stuff for years.  Still love it.  The painting a wood at dusk – very romantic – no figures, just twisted and broken trees, the usual pond.  Very atmospheric, very moody, dare I say…

Fab Orazio Gentileschi – Lot and his daughters – Lot in red, the daughters in yellow and blue, lots of pink flesh – legs, arms, and breasts – the ladies exploding out of their dresses.  Strong upward diagonal.  Painted in London, apparently.  A sad, tiny figure of Lot’s wife, turned into a microscopic pillar of salt as punishment for turning around to look at the burning city of Sodom.

Underground station exit in Holborn
Underground station exit in Holborn

A room with a horrible twisted gob of meat in the corner – yes, a Francis Bacon.  I avoid looking at it in order to preserve my mental health…  A very unusual Zurbaran, of St Catherine of Alexandria, looking very stern, and yet childlike too.  An interesting work by Xabier Morras, showing the Underground station exit in Holborn.  1969, with suitably old car models.  Number plate DLP 126C – I wonder who was in the car when that photo was taken. Where were they going, what were they doing?  Now that moment has been caught in art, whatever it was…

A video explains the massive buildings works underway outside: they are adding a huge new wing.  At least I think that’s what the video said: it was all in Basque when I saw it, so I had to grab the few words I knew there…  Down to the river, sitting by the Guggenheim, its huge canopy before me.  Lots of people out, lots of dogs.  Weather clearing.

Vizcaya Bridge with its gondola
Vizcaya Bridge with its gondola

After lunch, on the metro to Areeta metro station down by the sea – quite a long journey, but easy.  Going to see Vizcaya Bridge, the weird gondola contraption there.  From the metro down to the river, where I see the huge gantry spanning it.  For some reason best known to the Basques/Spaniards, the overhead walkway is closed from 2pm to 4pm (lunch for the lift person?).  So I take the gondola for 50 cents.  Short, sweet, and rather surreal.

To the (mini) lighthouse
To the (mini) lighthouse

Then walk out to here, under the mini lighthouse.  Lots of motor boats in the harbour, smell of the sea.  Reminds me of a similarly long, hot walk out to the harbour in Valencia some years back.  Not  much to see here, just the opposite bank, and the sea to my left.  Not many boats moving.

Since the lift man clearly won’t come back early, no walk across the gantry fro me.  To Moyúa for a quick coffee and bun before trying to find the Artxanda Funicular.  Which was not easy, and led me through various insalubrious parts of Bilbao – I knew this from the quantity of dog poo everywhere: in “nice” areas, people pick it up and put it in dinky little bags.  Not here.

Finally I find the funicular station, where I was able to use my 72-hour city card.  Trip only a minute or so, view good.  In fact, the park at the top looks exactly like the one in Bratislava – sans castle.  Overcast now, but still pleasantly warm.

A lone raptor floats over the city – looks big.  Reminds me of the eagles flying of the Caucasus when I was up by Gergeti church

The view from the park
The view from the park

From here I can pick out the landmarks I know: the cathedral, Arriaga theatre, the bridges, Guggenheim, Ibedrola Tower, the concert hall of last night.  Not bad work for three days…

Back in the hotel.  At 7pm a deranged carillon emerges from the nearby cathedral.  Truly demented, rather wonderful.  

13.3.23

Up early for the trip to the airport.  Out in search of breakfast.  I love walking through old cities before everyone else is up.  Here reminds me of Venice, which I once took a stroll in at 6am when I was on a press trip there. To the Plaza Barria, the Café
 Bar Bilbao, one of the few places open at this time.  The wind is rising: the palm trees shake dramatically.

Open for breakfast
Open for breakfast

As ever, I arrive at the airport far too early, unable to check in.  In fact, checking in was not part of the plan: my ticket is hand luggage only.  It was when I was packing the two bottles of Basque alcohol – the txakoli and Patxaran – that I realised I can’t take these through security.  Various alternatives run through my mind – drinking them now? – tricky, no corkscrew – giving them to the maid?  In the end, I went online and added the case as hold luggage.  Not perfect, but doable.  My fear was partly that I wouldn’t find equivalents in duty free (and looks like I was right).

An amusing social experiment at the check in.  The departure board said desks 23 and 24 could be used, and a few people were already queuing for 23, so I went to 24.  But as more people arrived, they saw many queuing for 23, and only me for 24, so joined 23, making it longer, evidently assuming that I had made a mistake.  I had a choice: stick it out in 24, and risk being forced to go to the back of 23, shamefacedly – or join 23 now.  I decided that if they gave two desks, there would be two desks.  And so it proved, happily.  But quite a tense few minutes there…

My one regret for this trip is that I heard so little Basque spoken.  In fact, the only occasions when I heard more than the odd sentence was in the announcement at the start of the concert yesterday, which told us to switch our phones off.  It’s true that practically every public sign – and even most ads – use both languages.  But it’s sad that more people don’t take pride in and use their amazing linguistic heritage.