Pintxos, Photos, and Art

A Week in Bilbao: Pintxos, Photos, and the Art of Not Offending a Bartender

Taken on: A week of sheer photographic brilliance, food-induced existential crises, and one incident involving a very judgmental pigeon.

Bilbao is not a city you just visit. It’s a city that happens to you. You step in, expecting to be a detached observer, and by the end of the week, you’re bargaining with a bartender over how many pintxos are socially acceptable to eat in one sitting. (Spoiler: more than you think, but less than you want.)

As a photographer, my mission was clear: capture the essence of the city through its streets, its people, its art, and, most importantly, its pintxos. What followed was a week of unexpected adventures, suspiciously sentient architecture, and enough seafood to make me question my place in the marine food chain.

The Guggenheim Stares Back

I started my week at the Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao’s shimmering tribute to titanium, imagination, and what I can only assume is an interdimensional understanding of geometry. The building did not have angles it had moods. Every few minutes, the light would change, and suddenly the museum would be having an entirely different conversation with my camera.

Photograph me from this side, it seemed to say.

I obliged.

No, now from here. See how I glow in the afternoon light?

I nodded.

And now, reflect upon your own insignificance in the grand tapestry of artistic expression.

At that point, I needed a break.

I found a bench, took a deep breath, and reviewed my shots. They were stunning. The Guggenheim was not just a building it was a performer. And I, apparently, had been its willing audience.

The Spider and I Reach an Understanding

Just outside the museum stood Maman, a giant bronze spider, which I initially approached with the wariness of someone who has spent too much time watching horror films. But as I lined up my shot, I realized it wasn’t terrifying it was elegant. Poised. A mother, watching over her woven creations.

I crouched to get the perfect low-angle shot.

Click.

A soft plop landed on my camera.

I looked up. A pigeon sat smugly on one of the spider’s legs, staring at me like an art critic unimpressed with my composition.

Well, this was going in my collection.

Casco Viejo and the Incident at the Pintxos Bar

Casco Viejo, Bilbao’s old town, is a photographer’s dream a maze of cobbled streets, colorful balconies, and people who somehow always know exactly where they’re going. Unlike me, who spent 20 minutes following what I thought was a charming side street, only to realize it was someone’s driveway.

By midday, I was ready to experience my first real pintxos bar. I entered, confident. I had read about the protocol. You order first and then you eat. Simple. Foolproof.

I approached the counter, lined with glorious miniature masterpieces gildas, bacalao croquettes, jam resting delicately on toasted bread. It was beautiful. My stomach growled.

Then, in a moment of reckless enthusiasm, I reached for a pintxo without ordering.

No! the bartender barked, materializing from the ether.

I froze.

He shook his head, pointed at my plate, and repeated, This is Bilbao.

I had offended an entire culinary tradition in five seconds. Impressive.

Blushing, I ordered properly, and as I finally tasted my first gilda, I understood the sanctity of the ritual. The anchovy, olive, and pickled pepper combination was a perfect balance of salt, acidity, and umami. Bilbao was not just about eating it was about respecting the act of eating.

Lesson learned.

Pintxos Fatigue is a Myth

By now, I had fully embraced the pintxos lifestyle. Breakfast? Pintxos. Lunch? Pintxos. Dinner? A longer, more elaborate version of pintxos.

Some personal highlights:

Txangurro (spider crab): Delicious. Mildly ironic, considering my earlier Maman encounter.

Bacalao croquettes: Creamy, crispy, and perfect.

Txistorra sausage: A little spicy, a little greasy, a lot of joy.

Txakoli wine: Light, crisp, and terrifyingly easy to drink.

By the end of the day, I had perfected the pintxos ordering technique and was even giving advice to another tourist on the proper etiquette. A full-circle moment.

Sunset Over the Ria de Bilbao

On my final evening, I returned to the Ria de Bilbao, the city’s lifeline. The water shimmered in the golden light, reflecting the skyline like an impressionist painting. I set up my camera, breathing in the last moments of this place.

The Guggenheim still defied logic.

The spider still stood, watching.

The pintxos bars still called to me, but my stomach waved a white flag.

As I clicked my final shot, I realized something: Bilbao was not just a city of great food and stunning visuals. It was a city that demands you experience it. It doesn’t let you pass through it pulls you in, fills your senses, and, if you’re lucky, teaches you a thing or two about life (and how not to get scolded at a bar).

I packed up my camera, smiling. Some places you visit. Others, like Bilbao, you taste, photograph, and accidentally offend before falling completely in love with.