Not the Hobbit

We are in Bilbao, which is in Spain, but it's really in the Basque country. There is a part of Spain and France in the Pyrenees Mountains inhabited by the Basque people, a group with their own culture and their own language. It is actually a very fascinating language because it is unlike any other language spoken on Earth. And there's a reason for that.

Colorful

Long, long ago, before the time of writing, there were many groups of people living throughout Europe. Those distinct groups were geographically isolated from one another and they all established their own languages. But then in some eon or age, migrants from India and Asia Minor came to Europe and brought with them their early languages. Over the course of the next centuries, these new migrants wiped out all the previously spoken languages of Europe, all except one, Basque.

That's City Hall

Why did Basque alone survive? No one knows for sure, but the ruggedness of their lands in the Pyrenees likely had something to do with it. However it happened, Basque is the most ancient still-spoken language of Europe and possibly of the world. Note though, the Basque people don't call themselves the Basque, nor do they call their language Basque. They say Euskara. No one knows the origins of the word Euskara. No one knows the origins of the word Basque either.

Mural Beneath a Bridge

Bilbao, in Euskara, is called Bilbo, but not Bilbo Baggins, just Bilbo. It was called that long before any hobbits were ever named. And it is a fascinating city. There is a mix of architectural styles in the buildings, some very modern, some very classical, few, if any, dull. Historically, Bilbao was important as an iron working city. Iron was mined in nearby mountains and sent to the foundries of Bilbao. Then it was transported down the Bilbao River and across the Bay of Biscay.

The Guggenheim Museum

One thing I found interesting, and maybe a bit disappointing, was the complete lack of fire hydrants in the city. I stopped at a tourist information bureau and asked about it. Apparently, the fire department carries something like a hydrant with them. There are panels in the street (or maybe sidewalk, I was unclear on that) which can be lifted and the access to the water is there. I've looked for these panels. There are many panels, many are unlabeled, but none that are labeled indicate they are for fire fighting. This is not entirely new to me though. There was a similar system in parts of Australia. I asked what happens when it snows. I was told it rarely does that here, and when it does, the snow doesn't last in the city center for any appreciable length of time.

A pig. In a hat. Wearing a skirt with a pig. In a hat.

Perhaps the most fun aspect of our visit is a result of dumb luck. It just so happens that this is the week of Carnivale, the week before Lent begins. Spain, being a Catholic country, celebrates Carnivale. And Bilbao has all kinds of strange and wild traditions surrounding it.

Fly my lovelies, fly!

My favorite is the costumes. Bilbao, on the Saturday of Carnivale, is like Halloween in the United States. But in other ways it isn't like Halloween. First, adults dress up, even if they aren't with children. Second, large group themed costumes are very common. You can often tell who is with whom based on what they are dressed as.

Big head creature. Is it an owl? A donkey? A cross between them?

There are concerts and dance shows going on. There are children's activities. There is an actual carnival on the side of the Bilbao River, a Carnivale carnival. And there's the sardine.

I don't know why children would want to be anywhere near this

Sardine? What does a sardine have to do with Carnivale? Apparently, this is a Spanish thing. On the last day of Carnivale, Fat Tuesday (or Mardi Gras in French), you hold a funeral for the Sardine. And then you burn it. How this tradition began is debated. There are hypotheses, but not enough strong evidence to justify any one of them. But it must be at least partly symbolic. You have just had a six day feast and festival, and then you have the ritual Burial of the Sardine (which isn't a burial, it's a cremation.) In some way you are saying goodbye to gluttony and accepting the more somber tone of Lent and its period of self-denial.

At one time, actual fish were burned. These days, it is a papier mâché model of a fish that gets burned. But you can get your picture with it before it goes up in flames!

Just the two of us and a sardine who will burn on Tuesday.

Saturday was the height of the festivities, but we are still in the midst of a six-day party with schools closed and pirates and superheroes (and many people dressed as sardines) walking the streets.

I think the hobbits would approve wholeheartedly.