Markus Bidaux discovers a region steeped in tradition that’s recovered from oppression to become a different destination for LGBTQ travellers going to Spain

Markus Bidaux

METAL GURU: The Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao

@702 My heart rate is quickening as a cracking noise reverberates through the large building over and over again. I’m in Bilbao in northern Spain, watching a game of pelota, an ancient Basque sport. It’s similar to squash but the court is larger and they have xistera, long curved plastic scoops, strapped to one hand to catch and throw the ball.

The two players make it look easy but all I can think of is the ball ricocheting off the wall and cracking my skull open. Thankfully, I am given a tennis ball for my lesson and my heartbeat returns to normal.

The players tell me to put the ball in the xistera, and, with a limp wrist, arch it over my head towards the wall. Soon I am hurling tennis balls and grateful for my limp wrists, for which I was bullied during PE lessons at school. The lesson is over too soon and I head back into the fresh air.

Pelota is my first insight into the history of the Basque country, an autonomous region of Spain, which has its own culture and language. Bilboa receives far fewer tourists than some other Spanish cities, but it’s a great gateway to the area. It does not have the hedonistic allure of Spain’s gay meccas Gran Canaria and Sitges, but it has formed an “Atlantic rainbow” with the seven provinces of Basque country, four in the north-eastern corner and three adjacent in France. Being an LGBTQ destination is not always about having the most gay bars or beaches, it is just as important to genuinely value the queer community whether local or from afar.

After a quick railway ride up Artxanda Hill, I have all of Bilbao in my sights. The Nervión river cuts through the city like a horse shoe, and forests and mountains surround it, creating a micro-climate, making this one of Spain’s greenest regions. But be warned, it can rain on about 140 days a year, so pack an umbrella.