Our destination that morning was Gernika, a small town accessible by a bus that leaves Bilbao every half hour. Historically, it was the seat of Basque government, but it entered popular consciousness when Franco (with Hitler and Mussolini in cahoots) bombed the civilian population there in 1937. The incident inspired Picasso to paint his famous Guernica, which didn't enter Spain for more than 40 years until Franco's despotic rule was over.
We learned a lot about the history of the painting itself at a special exhibit (related to the 70th anniversary) at the Museo de la Paz in Gernika. We watched at least an hour of an art history documentary related to the painting and its politics. Of course, the painting itself remains safe at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid. Read up on what this piece of art has gone through and you'll understand why it's not likely to be transported any time soon.
I love the Peace Museum in Gernika. The permanent museum space is dedicated half to the bombing of Gernika and half to the process of peacemaking, with reconciliation between survivors of the bombing and descendents of the German fighter pilots responsible for the deaths as an example. Gernika stands as such a powerful, universal symbol against totalitarian violence, due largely to Picasso's influence, and yet it was also a concrete experience for Basques who lived through the Spanish Civil War. I picked up an informative map of the town that indicates which few buildings survived the bombing unscathed (perhaps 20 percent of the town) and which have had to be totally reconstructed.
I was sobered to read a plaque stating the estimated civilian loss of life in Dresden, Germany (at 30,000) when experts place the Gernika numbers at around 250. I shall have to visit historical sites in Dresden when I visit Germany. Despite all the good intention of the Peace Museum, I get angry and frustrated to think of the genocide and injustice that continues today in other lands. But I won't drift into my international politics now, since the focus here is on a war that is tucked safely into Spain's past.
Our next stop was the Casa de Juntas, where a Basque parliament met historically (the autonomous government currently meets in Vitoria-Gasteiz). I proudly spoke my limited Basque with one of the grounds curators as A. tried to capture the grandeur of the stained glass ceiling through photography. Outside the building is the famous Oak of Gernika, or at least part of the 300-year-old trunk of the previous tree, beside which a new tree grows.We returned to Bilbao and needed to eat something, but because of the hour, the only thing we could find was an American-Western-themed grill called "Boys" with John Wayne photos on one wall and Latino music videos blaring on another. The meal wasn't bad, but it certainly lacked Basque authenticity. The best part of it was our dessert: the great Alacant brand of ice cream.
Later, we enjoyed wandering through the old casco viejo of the city and observing everyday Bilbao citizens (and their pet dogs) going about. Bilbao would be a very nice place
to live, we concluded. We reflected on how kind the Basque people had been to us during our travels (from metro behavior to store clerks). Not to demean madrileños or any other Spaniards, but the Basques are so nice. Eskerrik asko.We departed from the main train station, with its awesome stained glass window, weary from carrying our packs around all day (remember: no consignas in Basque Country). I can't say that I slept well on the train ride home, since there weren't any couchettes. But over the next two days I had ample time to rest at home as A. took care of me, and I soon recovered from whatever was ailing me.
We hope we can return to Basque country in the future months. If you have any suggestions for us for things we should do or see or if you know someone who lives there that we could meet up with, we'd be happy to hear from you.
Inside the Bilbao train station
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