You can't come here without visiting the Guggenheim in Bilbao...

...although Leah says she has at least two friends who spent significant time here without paying any attention at all to the museum.

She herself visited here in 1997, shortly after the museum opened. Today we took a fast, comfortable bus from San Sebastian to Bilbao, through rugged green country that reminded us enormously of the Pacific NW. In Bilbao, we were able to try out two other means of convenient public transportation - first the tramline, which runs from the regional bus terminal to a stop near the museum.

The Museum is only part of a general rehabilitation program for the area of Bilbao where it is located. There is a wide promenade all along the river that runs through town, and at several points stroller can cross from one side to the other over interesting bridges (the most recent designed by Calatrava.)

The museum itself holds up well (though Leah the metalworker is worried about the condition of the elaborate metal facade.) Inside, we visited the permanent collection, including a number of large-size painting from the 50's and 60's. An enormous room is filled with cor-ten steel sculptures by Richard Serra, in a combination of spirals and arcs and mazes that can delight or intimidate, depending on your mood.

I've always thought of Serra's work as bombastic, intrusive and much too large for comfort. Today, in this space that is perfectly suited to his massive, yet playful constructs, I began to change my mind.

Two other large exhibits currently at the museum are the "Gluts" series, by Robert Rauschenberg, and a retrospective of sculpture by Anish Kapoor. Each exhibit is phenomenally varied, intriguing and thought-provoking, and we felt especially lucky to see the Rauschenberg.

After all that art, one can sit on an outside terrace with refreshments, and think about the vision and energy that created this new focus for a long-established city.

San Sebastian

Leah is the guide here. In Seattle, she cooked at Txori, a small-bites restaurant established by a man from San Sebastian who was nostalgic for the delicious and varied bar cuisine of his home city. Between a list of "don't miss" places passed along by a former colleague, and some tips from Rick Steves' guidebook, we are eating an amazing variety of pintxos (Basque for tapas.)

Pintxos can be seafood, mixed meats, vegetable and meat or fish, hot, cold, fried or grilled. Most are traditionally served on small slices of toasted bread. Tonight we ate bacalao (cod) with a parsley cream topping; a small grilled shrimp and serrano ham kabob served with piperade sauce, and a pintxo that consisted of grilled fresh anchovy & green pepper.

Among other things.

There are things to do here other than eat, of course. The city itself is set on one of Europe's only sand beaches, a long crescent that would be crowded in summer, but is almost free of people on a chilly May weekend. Crags formed from layers of sediment laid down millions of years ago, then torqued and upthrust into small mountains, bracket the main part of the city, and foothills of the Pyrenees roll back from the ocean. San Sebastian was a fashionable resort from the mid-1800's on, and many of the older buildings are in exuberant Art Nouveau style.

Today we rode the bus out of town a few miles to the Chillida-Leku Museum, dedicated to the work of Eduardo Chillida (1924 - 2002) a Basque sculptor who worked in materials from felt to clay to cor-ten steel, to make objects that range from delicate drawings to massive sculptures.

The museum is on the property that was once his home and studio. The studio, now the gallery for indoor pieces, began life as a 16th-century stone farmhouse. Pictures show the massive remodeling and rebuilding necessary to turn it into a functioning 20th century building.

Metal sculptures of all sizes and shapes are installed throughout the extensive property, and simply become part of the landscape. Wandering from one to another is a wonderfully low-stress experience, so different from a typical museum visit.

Hola from Madrid!

A recent post on a travel site I follow said Madrid "failed to charm."

I would love to know what those people did and where they went, because Leah and I find Madrid if not precisely "charming," then definitely fascinating.

We had a short time here - arrived Wednesday afternoon about 2 p.m., after a delayed (and bumpy) flight from Amsterdam. But we made excellent Metro connections from the airport, and found our hostal with no trouble. (Leah gets many points for her map-reading skills and serious guidebook research.)

We took full advantage of the two free hours the Prado (and the other major museums) offer - between 6 and 8 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, you can pick up a ticket and go through the galleries as rapidly or slowly as you like. Last night we had a list of things we had missed on earlier visits, and we took full advantage of the gallery plan and helpful guards. Tonight we returned, for more exploration and longer return visits to favorite galleries.

Since I was last there, in 2001, the Prado has gone through an amazing remodel and upgrade, that has added access, shop and cafe space, many new galleries and conference rooms. However, the museum still has its mysteries, and a visitor needs to be determined in order to get to the Bosch (El Bosco) "Garden of Earthly Delights" for example.

On display in the same area as Velaszquez' "Las Meninas" this spring is a visiting American masterpiece - "The Daughters of Edward Boit," by John Singer Sargent. Sargent studied in Paris with an artist who revered Velasquez, and he visited the Prado many times to study the master. Under glass is a page (in beautiful script) from the Prado's Museum Copyists' Book, which lists three visits by Sargent, including one on which he was registered to copy "Las Meninas."

This morning we spent time with 20th and 21st century art, at the Reina Sofia Museum. Since 2001 it too has had a massive upgrade, that includes an entirely new building and an extensive remodel of the former galleries.

Madrid is a wonderful place to eat, as well as to look at art. Today we sampled many bocadillos (little sandwiches), tapas of all sorts, and appropriate drinks. Fresh orange juice is available everywhere, and the coffee is splendid. (Not to mention the wine & aperitivos.)

Tomorrow we're off to San Sebastian.

Glorious full moon

But I have no picture. Last summer I tried taking pictures of the moon over the lake, but the results were disappointing.

Just imagine a large white moon, about halfway up the sky, free of the clouds for the time being, but lighting the ones nearby.

It's a spring moon, though the weather continues to be "winter with flowers." Everything bloomed early because of mild temperatures earlier in the year, but now we've had an almost normal quota of chill rainy days.

The blog is about to shift into travel mode, as Leah and I leave for points European next week. A friend we're joining later in the trip left today for Paris, and I'm wondering if she will run across any of this action.

Off to the Gala

Guests invited to a village wedding in Transylvania must wait until the groom, his friends - and the band - arrive to lead them to the church.

Tonight guests at our Partner Church gala won't be ushered in by a band, but they will see an authentic Transylvanian wedding costume (modeled by a willowy dressmaker's mannequin.) Through a long chain of circumstance, our Partner Church Committee received the wedding dress a number of years ago. It was assembled in the 1920's by an expatriate who wanted a costume for his daughters, and it was one of the daughters, then in her 80's, who gave it to us.

Transylvanian wedding costumes are made up of many pieces. The basics are a plain white long-sleeved blouse and full skirt. Embroidered bands of varying widths go around the neck, the wrists and the waist, and the bride wears not one but two aprons. The costume is finished off with a crown head-dress, trimmed in dangling ribbons.

Every stitch of the costume is made by hand. Ours has deep rows of dark-red silk lace, like that trimming the apron in the picture. It's beautiful work that now is almost a lost art.

Happy Easter - a little late

Drat! I started a post last week, saved it, then went on to other things. When I heard someone say "Happy belated Easter" yesterday, it seemed OK to revert & update.

So here's the belated Easter greeting. Although you can't tell from the picture (there's a reason to pose a person next to an object, and it's called scale!) this garish Easter egg is at least 7 feet tall.

It lives on an island in Snagov Lake, near Bucharest, a gift from a well-meaning group perhaps hoping to brighten the day for the lone priest who lives on the island.

The egg is like many things in Romania - too bright, too big, entirely out of proportion. Like the rest of Eastern Europe, Romania has jumped a long way in the past 20 years, and travelers are often reminded of the length of the jump. (And yes, some of my favorite places are IN Romania. It's that kind of country.)

The other picture is to remind myself (and anyone else who loves Japanese prints) that at long last an exhibition is on view at SAAM, thanks to a fine collection given or promised to the museum. If you love these prints (so influential in 19th-century Western art) go see the show!

The weather has reverted to winter, not surprising after our amazingly early spring. Question now is, "What's next?" (Snow level at 300 feet this weekend.)

Photos and other things

There's nothing like an official memory book project to take away the desire to blog.

On the other hand, resurrecting some old photos to use (by having them transferred from film to disc) reminded me that I do enjoy working with a camera. This picture is of spices in the market at Nice, taken in September of 2001. (Click on the picture to make it larger.)

Now that the "official" project is finished, I can return to random writings. Even poetry, thanks to a class I've been attending for a month or two. So far I've produced nothing new, just revised some old pieces.

The class feels more like a poetry support group (thanks to R. for the insight!) but since it encourages writing or revising, it's a help. And it reminds me that I have been privileged to work with some really fine teachers.

The memory book is for the partner church group. Someone is bound to be miffed because a particular picture was left out, or an activity slighted, but such is life.

I worked with an on-line album-making program, and found (on a first try, at least) that it was almost as time-consuming and frustrating as working with scissors, paper and glue.

However, as one Facebook friend pointed out, I didn't get glitter all over my fingers.

(It had never occurred to me to use glitter in an album. Not even cyber-glitter.)