If you are looking for a post about the wonders of Bilbao, this is not it. I saw very little of the city, for reasons which will be explained. This is another post about my travel mishaps and more advice on how not to follow in my footsteps.
This is a story where two or three things came together which on their own might not be a serious problem but in combination …
I am not sure if in my many posts on this blog I have made mention of my physical appearance, but adjectives such as large, rotund, portly and, well, just plain fat have been used in the past, even (on one occasion) enormous. Travel broadens the mind but can it slender the belly? Well maybe. Certainly I have been losing weight over the last few years and up until October I was about 20lbs down on the year. But carrying scales in my suitcase was not a practical option, so since coming to France and Spain, I have not had the chance to weigh myself. One sign that the weight loss is still happening are my belts. I have had trouble keeping my trousers up throughout this trip and whilst in Spain I thought that the time has come for a new belt. It has been a particular difficulty when travelling with a case and a bag in each hand and then having to make an emergency ‘pull up’ now and again. So in Logrono I set out to find a belt and it proved no easy matter. For a start there seemed to be a great imbalance between clothing shops for men and women with the latter easily out competing the former by a factor of about 6-1. Then there is trying to actually find the belt department in the shop. Eventually I noticed some belts in a men’s clothing shop and decided to go in and have a closer look. Strangely, I had to ring a doorbell to get in. Looking back, that was a clue that I had missed. The assistant did speak some English and I was able to explain my predicament and what I needed. I was a bit surprised when she offered to help me off with my anorak and more so when she offered to help me off with my belt – but I managed to do this myself and tried one or two on, which to be honest, seemed no better than the one I already had. I then asked the inevitable question, “how much are they?” “The one you have on – 105 Euros.” Yes, I did ask her to repeat. She went on to say that all of the belts were over 90 Euros in price because they were from Armani … I wasn’t bothered if they were from Shangri-La, there was no way I was paying that price. So I put on my old belt (no offers to help now!) and left.
I thought I would be better able to find something in Bilbao – and so it proved, but that leads me into the second factor in my story …
Having had reasonable weather for most of my trip, things changed in Bilbao. It was pouring with rain when I arrived and on my first night I was woken at 6am thinking there had been an explosion, but it was just thunder. The heating was timed on a flat-wide basis and only came on between 3pm and 9pm. I’m not great in the mornings and I was feeling the cold. In fact, I caught a cold. The third factor was the boiler.
Now I don’t know what it is about me and boilers. Things have not gone right since my visit to Dolphinton, now a year ago (already!) There were minor issues at one of my Sheffield stays and the boiler broke down in Figueres … not that I noticed for the first week, as the hot water was working – just the heating was affected and I didn’t need that in week one. On that occasion, the engineer had to be called and the repair was made within a day or two, but in Bilbao the needed repair was more taxing. All was good on the first day; I showered and used the hot water to wash up without any difficulty, but then on day two I made the mistake of trying to have a bath. The mixer taps were complicated and it seems that I needed to make some sort of switch which I couldn’t understand. Eventually, I got things going, only to find that the once hot water was running cold. After some investigation, I looked at the boiler to find an error message (that was obvious even to me with no Spanish) and knew I had to call the host. They came round and did all the things I had tried and agreed that an engineer needed to be called. As it was now Sunday, this meant no showers until after the repair was done, probably on Monday lunchtime. Nothing happened on Monday and when I called I was told that the situation had been explained to the engineer and that a part (a fuse?) would be needed which they didn’t have in stock and would take 2-3 days to arrive. I did consider being smelly for that length of time (I was leaving in 3 days) but eventually I saw sense and bowed to the inevitable. I would have to leave and go to another flat. By now it was 5pm and already dark. Airbnb had been called by the host and they were really helpful, but their suggestions were places that I had already tried when looking for somewhere originally, so I knew I had to find somewhere on my own, which I did – eventually. Knowing I had looked at all the places that fulfilled my criteria it had to be somewhere with something missing. As I was not going to teach for the few days I had left (a combination of having had enough and having this bad cold / feeling miserable) the obvious thing to take out was the need for a dedicated workspace. This brought up a place that was listed as central but looked on the map to be a little way out of the city. Nevertheless it had good reviews, so I booked in and luckily I was accepted. The address was right across the other side of the city but possible by tram, so off I went.
Naturally it was pouring with rain at the other end too and trying to understand Google Maps when there is water pouring off your phone whilst you are carrying a backpack and wheeling the largest case possible is NOT good fun. Eventually 20 minutes from getting off the tram (and the walk actually only took 10) I found the apartment and was let into the lobby where I faced the lift.
Now, there was a warning that the lift was a bit small. But I had only seen the bit that interested me. LIFT. There was one – I wouldn’t have to negotiate stairs with my huge case, so size did not seem that important. The signs said that there should be no more than three people in the lift. That would be three malnourished people who were good friends. That lift was tiny. But, I managed to get myself rammed near the back, squashing my backpack and I pulled my case in front of me and pushed the button with my free hand … and then it happened. The clothing malfunction. The belt failed and my trousers fell down around my ankles. The next few minutes will remain etched on my mind for quite a while. Quick thinking meant I jammed the lift doors with the case (they were just on the point of closing.) Then I pushed myself against the wall whilst I tried my best to pull up my (because of the rain) soaking wet trousers, hoping beyond hope that no-one would walk into that lobby. It felt like it took an hour to sort myself out, but of course it was only a few minutes. The host, Maria met me as the lift opened onto the 2nd floor. I reckon that if I had not jammed the lift door in time she would have been greeted by a bare-legged Steev tripping over his case and trousers as he sneezed his way into the apartment. As it was, I muttered something about being sorry for the delay as I had lost my way, (in a lift?) and went through the routine of being taken around the property.
The flat was much better than the one I had left. Warmer, more comfortable and with lots of food left for breakfast and beyond (enough chocolate biscuits to open a market stall!) There wasn’t really a suitable place to teach from and the internet was not all that fast – but these were things that could be easily fixed and I did let the host know this. There is only one last “incident” to mention. As I said, I was feeling really ill that week – so the trips I had planned to the Guggenheim and to San Sebastian never happened. But I had paid for a week’s pass on the public transport system and I was determined to make some use of it, so I decided on my last day to travel about on the Metro. I was going to take a trip to the coast, but of course, took the wrong train and found myself going out to the suburbs instead. Given that anywhere was new, I decided to get off at a station with a name that sounded like “Portugal” my ultimate destination … Portugalete. When I got out of the station I noticed a Tourist Information Centre which I thought odd for a little suburb. I went in to find out that I was at the place of the transporter bridge, which one of my friends said was a “must see” of Bilbao – so I went to take a look. I didn’t cross the river as my energy level was pretty low and it was a lot of walking. I didn’t even take any photos as I had forgotten to take my phone with me. But I did see the bridge and made one friend very happy. My only other trip? To Primark to buy a belt.
Comments
Good read Steev, fun blog, amusing in retrospect I guess. Hope you’re well belted for xmas, so to speak. Good move to be in Portugal for the winter!
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