Bilbao

The old addage that "it´s the journey, not the destination" is only half-true in our case. Since we are riding for such a long time, it´s much easier to think of this trip as a network of cities separated by countryside (so far, mountains).

Rainsoaked, we woke up to the sound of alarms and dynamite from the worksite next to us in El Regato. The ground shook, my immediate response was to duck and cover. We rushed to pack our things together, loaded our bikes, and rode the rest of the way to Bilbao. Right now, we are drying our gear with a fan in our room at the hostel.

This city is amazing, and I am glad we are not leaving until tomorrow. There is a peculiar juxtaposition of old squares and narrow streets, contrasting the numerous cranes erecting ultra-modern skyscrapers. Much of this development was spurred by Frank Gehry´s late-90s Guggenheim Bilbao. It has been so hyped as the rise of the "starchitect" and an example of how iconic architecture could revitalize a city that Krisztian and I felt we had to see it. Luckily, there was a great retrospective on Surrealism; many of the pieces hadn´t been exhibited since 1939, and it filled the entire third floor.

Tonight we will go out to the bar and watch Spain play Russia in the semi-finals of the Euro Cup. I expect and hope that there will be riots in the street either way.