The Leaving Song

After a few days in the hustle-bustle of Bilbó, we ventured north to the coast to spend some time in a small seaside village called Mundaka. It is my version of paradise. It is sandwhiched between massive hillsides and deep forests. There are antique buildings and homes scattered throughout its salt draped streets. The harbor is filled with old fishing boats and men of the sea. It also has a world famous wave for surfing as it is home to the Billabong Pro Mundaka. Perfection.

We ventured inland a bit to visit a town called Gernika. This town was magical to me because of its role in Basque history as well as its place in the Spanish Civil War. We went on a very significant day because they were holding the local market. The region is known for its pimientos. The market was a key role in the war because Franco strategically chose to bomb the city on this day due to is popularity in all of the region of Vizcaya. We got bundles of food that we later shipped home for the family. The shipping rate left a massive hole in our pockets.

Our final evening in Mundaka was host to an annual fetival to celebrate the longest day of the year. It is called the Day of San Juan. It is celebrated in all of the Basque Country with a huge festival and a burning of a witch to represent the pagan roots that are embedded in the culture. There was a massive fire at midnight that lit up the city. There was plenty of txapela, and plenty of txisto.

Earlier in the evening, we made a homemade paella. Well, the work was mainly done by Cristina. She is an incredible chef. She knows her way around the traditional cookbook like nobody´s business. We were spoiled rotten with all of the finest meats and cheeses of the land.

The final day was one of heightened emotions for the both of us. We started off the day going to the subcultured area of Bilbó. She took me by the anarchist bookstore, and to the print center of the CNT. We also stopped by the home of the famous Basque philosopher named Unamuno. Finally, she took us to the bus station and saw us off to Pamplona. I could not stomach to look out the window without a bit of drizzle falling from my eye. I just watched her stand there. She was strong and helpless. I felt so close, but so far. A song she showed me soared through my head. She did more than enough for us both while we were there, and I can´t praise her enough as a friend and as a person.