I've been thinking a lot lately about travel as more than simple vacationing; that is, travel as a metaphor for life, a resource for life, training ground for life, as personal development. In my post a couple of weeks ago on Couchsurfing, I talked about how enthusiasm for travel is contagious; seeking out adventurous people wakes you up out of your routine and makes you want to be like them.

In a similar vein, this blog post/video on a talk travel writer Rolf Potts did at the DO Lectures in Wales recently talks about lessons learned from travel that can be applied to your everyday life. Inspiring stuff about living life on your own terms.

Kalimotxo

I really resisted it for a long time. The very idea of kalimotxo -- the mix of red wine and Coca Cola I had always associated with groups of drunk-in-public teenagers -- just didn't appeal to me. I didn't want to like it. So I refused to try it.

And now I eat my words. One night, at a club, someone passed me their glass (sharing drinks with your friends at bars seems weird to North Americans, but I've found it quite common elsewhere), and as soon as I tasted it I knew that it had to be kalimotxo. It was a refreshing change from beer. And I didn't immediately revert to being 18 and swigging from a purple-tinged 2L Coke bottle on the metro or in the corner of a park with my friends.

Yesterday I ordered one in a bar for the first time. Though now popular all over the country, kalimotxo was invented in the Basque Country, after all, so I just tell myself I'm doing my part to sustain local culture, one katxi at a time.

Planning Morocco

I'm going to Morocco over Easter break! It'll be my first time on the African continent. I'm flying in and out of Fez, and since I only have a week, I'm thinking of just visiting a few places in the north of the country, probably Chefchaouen and Meknes.

Right now I'm in the exciting planning stages. Tracking down friends, acquaintances and friends-of-friends who've been there, and picking their brains for must sees, places to visit, and travel tips. Considering how close Spain is to Morocco and the close touristic ties that exist between the two countries, there's no shortage of people here who have vacationed there and have information to share with me.

But of course I wanted some sort of guidebook as well. Though I'm a big fan of the Rough Guides series, as far as mainstream travel guides go, this time I've given Lonely Planet some of my hard-earned cash, and for a very specific reason. Through the Lonely Planet website, you can mix and match chapters of their guidebooks and instantly download them in PDF format and pay only for what you download. Why is this great? First, I know I'm only going to have time to visit a few places in Morocco, and therefore wouldn't need or use the whole guidebook, which covers the entire country. I'd rather pay only for what I need. Second, travel guidebooks are heavy to lug around and very conspicuous -- to be seen with one in public SCREAMS tourist. I plan to print off the most essential of my PDFs to carry with me, lightweight and stigma-free. Third, by downloading a PDF to my computer I avoid schlepping around to several bookstores trying to find what I need, and I also avoid shipping charges for on-line purchases, and I get my info instantly. It's nice to see traditional publishers embracing new technologies and new business models to deliver their content, adapting to and taking advantage of what the Internet has to offer.

Why don't hipsters like Bilbao?

I've known several foreigners in the time I've been living here that just don't like Bilbao. Most are the usual culture-shocked, inexperienced travellers that don't like it simply because it's not home. A couple came to Bilbao after having visited other parts of Spain and were disappointed to find that the north of Spain completely lacks, for lack of a better term, bulls, flamenco and olé.

But there have have been others, who were not simply victims of homesickness or not reading their guidebooks properly, but who nonetheless couldn't really get into Bilbao. And if you ask me, it's because they were hipsters.

Don't ask me to define what a hipster is. Every written definition of a modern-day hipster I've read has some parts I agree with and others I don't. Official definitions aside, if you know what a hipster is, you know one when you see one. And though lots of urban young adults, myself included, may enjoy one or two examples of supposedly hipster behaviour (micro-brews and bikes, anyone?), there's a critical mass of lifestyle, appearance and attitudinal factors that, if you possess enough of them, push you into hipster territory.

In my opinion, irony is what makes or breaks a hipster. Ironically ugly haircuts/facial hair/glasses/clothes. Ironically crashing old-man dive bars and the like, half-laughing at the regulars. Ironically drinking disgusting PBR. Irony implying here a distance or lack of a sincere engagement with your surroundings; even if the concert's great I'm not going to dance. Social events and artistic happenings that are uber-hip, but no one seems really into it.

Irony makes or breaks a hipster, and irony, or lack thereof, is why hipsters don't like Bilbao. Bilbao is a sincere city, in its people, music scene and social life. Ironically ugly clothes here are just considered, well, just plain ugly. (American Apparel wouldn't stand a chance in Bilbao.) Though the late nineties rocker aesthetic is alive and well here, when you see some dude rocking headbanger hair and a plaid shirt it's because he's really into the music and lifestyle associated with that style. The metrosexual look, a mainstay of the look of the moderno (as they're called here) doesn't go over very well here either. A few select bars and events aside, the nightlife is decidedly sincere -- drinking to a traditional rock soundtrack, or dancing to a pop/house soundtrack about sums it up. Bilbainos are rockeros, and I think the metaphor of a balls-out 80's rock band, feeling every guitar riff and ever word of their lyrics, à la Springsteen or something, is an apt one to describe the city. Shoe-gazing, twiddly Casios and pretending you don't care just don't cut it here. Though there are some hipsters floating around Bilbao, the city's just not big enough to create a hipster subculture.

Call it a traditional city, but I personally find this refreshing. As I've said, I definitely partake in some hipster-like activities, but the level of irony encountered on a daily basis in the Mile-End neighbourhood of Montreal was getting a bit much for me, so I'm happy to revel in the sincerity of Bilbao for a while. And for those that aren't, there's always Berlin or London...

Name Games

I knew it would happen sooner or later.

In class with a bunch of 13 year olds, choosing names for the characters for a skit -- One kid's utterly determined to name the character Patxu Pamela. The Patxu part sounded vaguely Basque, and I wanted to get on with the lesson, so that's what we named him.

I might as well have named the character Hugh Jass or Amanda Huggenkiss or Mike Hunt. Patxu Pamela, said out loud is pa' chuparmela, aka. to suck my dick.

And I didn't figure it out for a week! Hilarious.

Bilbao Sundays

"I Love Bilbao Sundays" reads a friend's Facebook status. Sundays do have a special flavour in Bilbao, simple and back-to-basics, stemming from the fact that there's nothing to do.

Well, besides drinking. If you get up at a decent time, the Sunday morning activity par excellence is to meet up with some friends to potear. Poteando on Sunday morning doesn't differ all that much from they way you'd potear any given evening. It's getting together with friends for a couple of drinks and pintxos but in a way that's so unique to Bilbao. Order your drinks at the bar inside a tiny, narrow pub, then bring them out into the street, which becomes a defacto extension of the bar. Adults stand around and chat, kids play together in the square or at the other end of the street, pintxos are nibbled, and once glasses are empty the ritual repeats itself at another bar down the street. On Sunday morning from about 11 to 3, people get together in different areas of Bilbao such as Plaza Nueva (above)for a drink leading up to Sunday's centrepiece: a giant lunch entre familia.

But if Saturday night was a late one (as they often are) and you don't get yourself out and about in time to potear, you've missed your window as many bars and restaurants close up after lunch. All stores, including supermarkets, are closed, so there is no shopping or errands to be run. Sunday's offerings are narrowed down to football and the movies. If Sunday's football games don't suit you, then your remaining entertainment option is the movies, which are often sold out on Sunday nights for that very reason.

Walking, be it urban styles along the ría, or up into the hills surrounding the city in typical mendizale fashion, is also a Sunday activity that can help you deal with Saturday night's excesses. Unless it happens to be downpouring all day, as it was yesterday. The formula for Bilbao Sundays--family, friends and football--suffers when heavy rains make for soggy poteando and miserable mountain climbing. And then Bilbao Sundays can seem...long.

Happy Monday!