Hi readers,
I am back in the land of small meals, copious wine and terrible coffee. Spain! It feels wonderful to be home.
More accurately, it feels wonderful to be holed up in a 4-star hotel room at Abando Bilbao, where I have been placidly binge-reading on my Kindle, drinking powdered cappuccino and half-heartedly considering if there is anything else I would rather be doing with my time. Conclusion: there is not.
That is not to say I have not explored the town. I went to the Guggenheim Bilbao and met Puppy (picture below). I strolled through a captivating exhibit on the life, times and art of Jean-Michel Basquiat, a contemporary of Andy Warhol and Keith Harding in 1980s New York. I contemplated the meaning of art, and life, and inspiration. I bellied up at a pincho bar for terrible Spanish coffee breakfast.
When all that was done it was 11 AM yesterday morning.
There is a great wireless internet connection at my hotel. I am here by myself and feel no need to be interesting or engaged in all available tourist activities. I do feel a need to thoroughly check my e-mail, gently stalk my acquaintances on the newly public Ashley Madison database (such a fun activity! Do that here), slow-walk on the hotel treadmill and start thinking about heading back to work next week.
As I was contentedly laying in bed last night, considering if I should actually bother to eat dinner, I realized: There are all different kinds of vacations. This is a resting vacation. Some people spend whole vacations/weekends/sick days from work doing this. I'm going to indulge for one more day.
Some Bilbao photos below. Only a couple, because the inside of my hotel room/delightful haven of solitude is probably not that interesting for others.
I am back in the land of small meals, copious wine and terrible coffee. Spain! It feels wonderful to be home.
More accurately, it feels wonderful to be holed up in a 4-star hotel room at Abando Bilbao, where I have been placidly binge-reading on my Kindle, drinking powdered cappuccino and half-heartedly considering if there is anything else I would rather be doing with my time. Conclusion: there is not.
That is not to say I have not explored the town. I went to the Guggenheim Bilbao and met Puppy (picture below). I strolled through a captivating exhibit on the life, times and art of Jean-Michel Basquiat, a contemporary of Andy Warhol and Keith Harding in 1980s New York. I contemplated the meaning of art, and life, and inspiration. I bellied up at a pincho bar for terrible Spanish coffee breakfast.
When all that was done it was 11 AM yesterday morning.
There is a great wireless internet connection at my hotel. I am here by myself and feel no need to be interesting or engaged in all available tourist activities. I do feel a need to thoroughly check my e-mail, gently stalk my acquaintances on the newly public Ashley Madison database (such a fun activity! Do that here), slow-walk on the hotel treadmill and start thinking about heading back to work next week.
As I was contentedly laying in bed last night, considering if I should actually bother to eat dinner, I realized: There are all different kinds of vacations. This is a resting vacation. Some people spend whole vacations/weekends/sick days from work doing this. I'm going to indulge for one more day.
Some Bilbao photos below. Only a couple, because the inside of my hotel room/delightful haven of solitude is probably not that interesting for others.
Puppy!
Pinchos
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