After a month in a small town in Spain, you realize what you're missing in a big city. Everything you ever expected. Don't get me wrong, I love Bilbao, but a small town provides most people with significantly more opportunities for cultural experiences.
When I first applied for the Auxiliar program in Spain, I had envisioned my life in Spain to mirror my experience in Bellver. I imagined that I would have a cafe that I would go to everyday and know everyone by name. I would have a chit-chat with everyone, have my café con leche, read my Spanish paper, and improve my Spanish in the process. Then I would head to the market and make my compra for the day. Then I would go to the field or court and play some football or basketball against some locals. Then at night I would finish dinner and have a nice glass of red wine on my balcony overlooking the quaint Spanish village in which I resided.
Instead I find myself in a bustling metropolis with a plethora of cafe's to choose from and zero interaction with Spanish speakers besides the necessary exchange between customer and proprietor. Hola. Hola. Dos con leche. Gracias. and to end it all. Me cobras. 2.80. Agur. Agur.
Also, due to Bilbao's lack of land due to its geographical location, nestled in the valley of two mountains, there are very few places to play basketball or football. No matter, even if there were land available the locals that I would meet would more than likely insist on speaking in broken English over semi-fluid Spanish.
But there's just something about the Basque country that keeps one wanting more...
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