September 20
Today reminded me why I call myself a solivagant. I spent most of the morning sitting in my room, bemoaning the fact that all of my friends were busy with homework or tutoring jobs before I realized that I don’t need them to enjoy the city. Why wait for someone else when there’s a whole wide world out there?
So I grab my camera, some headphones and put on my walking shoes; nothing is off limits.
First, I go to Centro Comercial Zubiarte (the local mall) for some retail therapy. Last I’d been, most of the stores had been closed because of the day. Today there are plenty of interesting stores to peruse. H&M is the big one that is everywhere in Bilbao and America alike, but I spend very little time in there. Bershka, Pull&Bear, Zara…stores that I would love to see across the ocean.
The mall itself is also stunning. Being quite the shopaholic, I’ve seen my way around a few malls and I have to say that Zubiarte is in the top five. Four stories of clean, almost gorgeous architecture with a whole level dedicated to a food court, it’s a beast to walk through.
And the best part is that it’s only a two minute walk from class!
No small sum later, I walk back towards my house with relaxation in mind. In my path lies the Museo de Bellas Artes, a fine arts museum not too far away from Guggenheim. And would you believe it, it’s during their free hours. Who am I to skip past this building of culture?
Having just toured the Guggenheim in the span of a few hours, I begin in the temporary exhibit with the belief that I can finish the entire museum in two hours *shakes head*. Here temporarily, it’s the Alicia Koplowitz – Grupo Omega Capital Collection on display for the first time, and it’s jaw-dropping levels of impressive.
My favorite moment was the pleasant surprise when they even had a Alexander Calder sculpture—one of his mobiles.
I’m exhausted from the overwhelming amount of art when I get to the Pablo Picasso display. I’ve never been one for surrealism—more of a Baroque or Impressionist girl—and I can’t make it through the entire display and give it the respect that it deserves. Making promises to come back—and thanking God for free hours—I again start towards my home.
I’m not there for very long before I leave again, this time to a place that is more familiar to me than anything; Starbucks. One of the only coffee shops in the city is only a block from my house, and it’s PSL season.
It takes me half of my latte to finish what little homework I have, and the shop is closing soon anyways. I meander through the sunset-lit streets, taking the long way back.
I live near Gran Via, not a large street but very popular. Predominated by shops, I discover something new every time I walk it. And tonight is a futbol game featuring the home team and plenty of bars are filled to the brim with those who couldn’t get tickets. It’s a culture of casual drinking and mutual love of the sport and I revel in it without stopping.
My apartment is empty and quiet, too quiet for me after the subdued excitement of the streets. So I end my day on the balcony, enjoying the traffic, the warm Spanish night, the beauty of the theatre across the street and the trains pulling in every half hour in my peripheral vision.
I choose to be a solivagant because there are too many things to see and do in this world to be held back. I could sit around waiting for my schedule to coincide with someone else’s or I could forge my own path.
It will be a messy, rough, painful path. But it will be on my terms and that’s exactly how I want it to be.
