Picture this. In case you didn’t know (and if you don’t, where have you been?) I’m a United fan. Why? Because I was born and bred into it, a proper football family, mum, dad, sisters, brothers, all seven of us reds through and through. So it was inevitable.
Now imagine this…I go on a first date back on 6th January 2023, and the guy takes me to Old Trafford. Yep, first date vibes, but make it United. His name’s Carl, he’s a red, and that night set the tone.
Fast forward and we’ve done loads of matches together, some in the pub, some from the sofa but mostly at home, in the Stretford End, and until this week there had been just the one away…Wembley vs Brighton, the FA cup semi-final in 2023. What a day that was..beating Brighton on penalties, the atmosphere electric, my nerves in bits.
It has been a mad season and tough times, but games like Lyon had us buzzing! Kobbie Mainoo coming through, and then that Harry Maguire moment! Still can’t believe I was there for that one.
Any how…back to Bilbao. And I’m not going to lie, like most households money has been tight for me and I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a posh cow, but Carl looked me dead in the eye and said do you wanna so Bilbao? followed up with….Babe, this isn’t no fancy hotel holiday. It’s football, beer, and roughing it.” And me being me, I said yes!
The planning of this trip has been chaos. Carl sorted some mad travel itinerary with a guy from work. The plan? Stupid o’clock flight to Belgium, then another to Toulouse, hire car from the airport, and then a five-hour drive across France to some random town in Spain called Laredo. Then into Bilbao the next morning for the match. Easy, right? Hahaha
With Carl sorting the flights, I said I would sort the digs. Rookie mistake. Everywhere within reach of Bilbao was already booked. So there I am, trawling the internet, trying not to cry into my coffee.
In true Carl & Kerry style, we set off, in a mood with each other very early on the 20th. Manchester to Belgium, to Toulouse and the a car picked up at T3 and we were on the road.
Just a reminder at this point, I love Carl…but driving through France with him at the wheel nearly finished me off. My anxiety (which is does not even exist) hit the f**king roof. He was flying down those roads, with me inches away from being splattered by oncoming traffic. By the time we hit San Sebastián, I was DONE. We stopped for food, an oxtail burger (weird choice but actually super nice!) refuelled, and were back in the car, where we could finally start to take in the scenery, the coastline, sea views, in this area of Spain were proper breathtaking.
We eventually rolled up to where we were staying in Laredo. And it was…let’s call it “quirky.” or where I’m from, you’d just say a shithole. Middle of a dodgy estate, I was sick with it, but I shut my eyes and slept.
The next morning was MATCH DAY. We were up early, buzzing, with a good ten hours till kick-off (or ten hours of beer, same thing). And so we headed to Laredo town centre to catch the 11am coach to Bilbao. But nope. That was fully booked or not running. Get an Uber…£200. Absolutely not. So, we drove.
On the drive into Bilbao we saw fans everywhere. We passed the stadium, parked up in a city car park (overnight), knowing we’d pre-booked an Uber back at 3am. The walk into town, where the whole place was alive. Family zones, music, but Carl being Carl, dragged me straight to the main square where the football masses were. Hung his flag, found a table, and that was us. Beers flowing, atmosphere was sooo good. I lost count after three Aperol Spritz.
We’d had ticket options lined up, but as always, people disappeared or started tripling the price last minute. Gutted, but not enough to ruin the vibe. We went to the fan zone instead. They had a great set up, live music, House Music, Rowetta belting out tunes, even The Courteeners. The atmosphere was fire. And then, I bumped into my sister (told you, football family, we’re everywhere). And we watched the game on the big screen. (It was not the win, we wanted, but you know what. We were there now and that was all that mattered.
After the match, my memory is a little lacking. We found a lost phone, answered it, met the lad at a skatepark to return it, and he cried with relief. We sat with some locals, skateboarders, had a beer. Before heading back to the square, where both sets of fans were together, drinking, laughing, singing till all hours.
Then reality hit. Its 3am and the Uber didn’t turn up with no chance of getting another. Stuck in Bilbao, our “hotel” miles away. So, we walked about two hours through the dodgy late night city, back to the car. And yes, we slept in it. In a car park. With loud classical music blaring on a loop to keep out the homeless. Sixteen bars of Mozart on repeat, nearly killed me off.
After a few hours rest, we headed back to Laredo for our bags, and later that evening took the long ass trip back to France. The return drive was calmer (thank god!!). Overnight in Toulouse, then the plane hop Belgium to Manchester, and finally back home.
What an adventure!
Stressful, messy, zero glam but totally unforgettable. My first European away. Would I do it again? Abso-fuckin-lutely.
Kerry Wolstenholme 
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