A week ago, my parents and two sisters came over to the Basque Country to experience the local way of living first-hand. It was a three-day sojourn of gastronomic delicacies… Read more…
Another week comes to an end and we’re starting to realize that there are only four of them left. Four weeks to enjoy every moment we have and meanwhile trying to obey our upcoming deadlines. This week didn’t really help doing that, since one of my best friends, Zahra, arrived on Wednesday and stayed until today. No complaints though, I really loved having her over! Read more…
Well, it has been quite a while since the last post, time to get back into the blog-vibe. Alas, the flu has caught me by surprise, leaving me sick in bed at the moment. On the bright side: my cousin Anniek, my mum, and her boyfriend Jos came to visit me this week, making me the guide for a few days. Read more…
By Olwen Mears. The old part of the Basque Country’s capital, Vitoria-Gasteiz, like any casco antiguo in this part of the world, can throw up any number of surprises to the unsuspecting visitor, lost in its narrow and labyrinthine streets. One of its newest treasures is a small wine shop stocking local but lesser known Riojas – a surprise in itself until you meet the owner Martin, an Englishman from Bath.
Last weekend, during my stay in Bilbao, I talked to Mikel and his roommate about communication issues and the generally low level of English in the Basque Country and Spain. They gave me a bit of insight in the main educational problems and it became a bit clearer to me where the biggest gaps are. Read more…
A summary of this weekend’s gains: the discovery of Kafe Antzokia – one of Bilbao’s coolest music venues, a fun and entertaining Teenagers-concert, an insane revelation named Crystal Fighters – electronic music combined with traditional Basque instruments, and the long-anticipated book The Death of Bunny Munro by Nick Cave. Read more…
As I had predicted, I’m short on time this week. The last days I had to divide my spare time between schoolwork and my grandparents. They had arrived in Arrasate on Tuesday, so after school Niké and I went to visit them in Hotel Mondragón, where they had booked a room for a few nights. Read more…
“Your personality, the people behind the counter, a decent pint
– that’s what an Irish pub is.”
There’s more to the Wicklow Arms pub than first meets the eye. Granted, it is small but landlord Michael Moulton assures it can fit in 41 well-built fans for football and rugby matches.
When I first heard about The Wicklow Arms, I wasn’t clear where Michael was from. The pub name was unmistakably Irish but, “I’m sure he’s English,” said my friend.
“My father was an Irish marine,” Michael tells me over a cup of tea one morning. “He left Ireland quite young and met my mother in London. They lived abroad most of the time. I was born in England, in Portsmouth.” Already an early connection to Bilbao then?
The name of the bar reflects Michael’s link with Ireland (the county of Wicklow lies just south of Dublin) but he insists the bar is representative of both sides of his heritage. As a half-Welsh Englishwoman, I often wonder why Irish bars have the upper hand internationally. The 90s boom in the Irish economy led to an aptly-named firm, the Irish Pub Company, giving a Celtic makeover to a number of bars worldwide. Inevitably, the bubble burst – “of sixteen Irish pubs that were in Bilbao, only three remain,” says Michael.
One of the key traits of The Wicklow Arms is that, unlike a lot of so-called Irish pubs, it is much more authentic: “We didn’t want to go over the top,” explains Michael. “For example, the maps are all of places where I’ve been.” Then, of course, there is the leprechaun; a two-foot carving complete with human teeth that hangs from the light-fitting.
Michael’s pub career goes back twenty-three years and, appropriately, began in Ireland: “A friend of my uncle’s opened a bar in Dunmore East in Waterford. I went there to do the advertising (due to previous experience working for a supermarket chain). One day they were short-staffed, so I went behind the bar. I liked it but I didn’t like the village – too quiet and isolated. A friend was keen on going to London, so I decided to pack up and try the big city. For an Irish barman with training you could get a job quite easily and the wages were very good. I had a good time, enjoying life to the full.”
Some years later, including one spent in Australia, and with love and bar-owning prospects good reasons to make the move, Michael headed to the Basque Country.
Our Thursday class with Joxe was moved to Friday. That gave us the opportunity to pay one of our neighbour towns a visit. I had not yet been to Vitoria-Gasteiz so I thought let’s give it a try. Read more…
I’ve never been the person to be homesick, but there are always some things I miss about our little rainy country Belgium.
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