This is the final day of the street theatre series, but I’m ending it on a high note. Some of these photos are my favorite from the entire month that I spent in Spain.

Elisa and I met up at the Moyua metro station once more. I didn’t have a watch or a euro friendly phone so we would discuss a time and meeting place ahead of time (just like the good old days!) Anyway, the sun was only an hour from sunset by the time we arrived. There seemed to be a crowd forming by the entrance to the metro, so we did what any foreigners would do: wait for exciting things to happen with cameras in hand.

Suddenly, a man dressed in a fancy suit with his head held high strolled towards us. He seemed to walk towards us from no where at all, but after the first few gasps I turned my head in time to see him approach. It was like watching a ghost. He ignored everyone around him and strolled ever so slowly towards the mouth of the street. Finally, in the distance, we heard it.

A bus with beams of light and heavy metal music rolled down the street just as deliberately as the butler. By the time it finally reached the crowd neither of us knew what to think. Blue men dressed in eccentric suits poured from the bus and started rolling barrels down the road.

They lit things on fire and climbed historic buildings. Older folks behind me muttered angry things about it under their breath, while anyone under 60 raced down the street to follow the blue parade that ensued.

This is a man climbing the gate of a government building.  The older folks definitely didn’t like that part.

The procession continued for about 10 blocks all the way to el Casco Viejo, the old quarters of the city.

At this point Elisa and I had separated accidentally from weaving through the crowds too recklessly. She knew I would be fine and I knew she was more than capable to getting home, so at this point I sprinted across the bridge over La Ría to join a forming crowd at the end of the path. There were dozens of barrels stacked high, an old American police car, and plenty of smoke machines. A blue man appeared and started lighting his flares. The lighting was too perfect, and this shot of a fellow wanderer turned out quite well thanks to my little blue pyromaniac friend.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions for this theme week please know that you’re more than welcome to share

A few days into the street theater madness, a friend and I went to search the city for more excitement. You have to remember even if our Spanish skills are superb it’s hard to figure out directions in a city that’s new to you. Something might be labeled “Las Arenas” (the sandy area) and it could be referring to many historic areas throughout the city. However we did bump into some fun along the way:

The man above was a common sight. People play instruments for money in Bilbao just like in urban American cities, but they also sometimes blow bubbles as an alternative attempt for money. I wanted to stay longer to get more than just one snap of the bright faces, but we were running late for the dance we were looking to find.

With the help of a few strangers, we finally found it.

At the beginning of the show there was a “subway car” saran wrapped shut. Dancers slid under and rolled above the wrap, but it symbolized the separation between strangers never talked despite their close physical proximity. At this point, I was a bit skeptical and thought it was a little odd. But then the music caught up. The outside dancers started tracing their partners’ flowing movements with spray paint, as the two twirled around on the inside they realize the other member of their pair was on the outside. They tore the wrap down.

They explored. At this point the children stopped giggling and gasping in amazement and started freaking out. They didn’t seem to like the part where the masked dancers wandered aimlessly through the crowd. 

There was a struggle between pairs over a suitcase, and when flowers flew out and the gasps had left the audience’s mouths you could hear a pin drop.

Hay energía en todo el mundo allá en Bilbao.

And that was that. If you haven’t spotted the Underground shirt yet, I should mention that they are from a British dance company. The performers seemed to enjoy the show as much as we did. They balanced themselves above the bars, flung their bodies through the subway car and caught each other in a harmonized dance about what  community means (and could mean) in urban areas. In the end all were smiles.

You’re looking at two men dancing their way down a building in downtown Bilbao. When my tourist pamphlet told me that a theater company named “Motionhouse” was going to have a vertical dance on a late Sunday night I knew I was in. As it turns out that would have happened even without my pamphlet. The night before I had been trotting down the crammed street with hundreds of people to follow a moving theater and approached Moyua Plaza,

suddenly a man in a business suit grabbed my arm as he pulled me aside from the crowd for a moment. He motioned towards the top of the building you see below and told me,

“Tomorrow night you will see something completely new and spectacular all the way up there. You simply must see it!”

Always one for a Bilbao adventure, I returned the next night.

And no, you’re not seeing things, those two are wearing ledehosen like a couple of pros.  In reality, I’ve never seen something so fluid. From the perspective of someone watching from below, it was a perspective overload in a good way.  The band played live as the two men danced their way slowly to the bottom of the office building. Buses stopped in the plaza, people stopped talking and stared up, everything seemed quiet. It was quite a site, and a shame that I didn’t capture the faces of everyone around me. I was too entranced to move, to be honest.