The DadLadTour (Now Actually In Switzerland)

Day 3 (Part 4) – Bern. Another bridge, HDK – again – and La Roja.

The Match – The Italians come up against the Spanish

11^th July 2025

Liam has eaten, and my body and iPhone, if not fully recharged, are each at about 70% battery level. Though my bladder is 100% full with cappuccino.

After I take a comfort break, we’re walking. Again.

A UEFA volunteer directs us to the start of the fan walk taking place before the match at tonight’s deliciously named venue, Stadion Wankdorf. (I am sorry; juvenile, I know, but is it a comical name).

(*NOTE: Wankdorf doesn’t have a direct translation into English. In German “wank” means “to sway” or “to swagger”, while “dorf” translates into “village”. Make of that what you wish.

The home of BSC Young Boys, the Wankdorf Stadium was first opened in 1925. The original stadium had a capacity of 22,000 – of which 1,200 were covered seats and 5,000 covered standing. This was gradually increased to 42,000 capacity during the 1930s.

The Wankdorf was then demolished and rebuilt ahead of the 1954 FIFA World Cup. The new stadium boasted a capacity of 64,0000 – 8,000 seated, the remainder standing. Demolished, yet again in 2001, another stadium was constructed.

This third version – then called Stade de Suisse – opened in summer 2005 and was a venue for the men’s Euros in 2008. In June 2020, in an attempt to return to its original roots, it was renamed Stadion Wankdorf. This latest iteration of the venue has a current capacity of 31,783. It is the second-highest capacity football stadium in Switzerland behind St. Jakob-Park in Basel which holds  38,512.

Renowned, and criticised, for it use of artificial grass, the pitch has been laid with natural grass on two occasions; Euro 2008 and the Women’s Euros 2025.

The DadLadTour has visited the second, third and fourth highest capacity grounds in Switzerland; 

#02 – 31,783 – Stadion Wankdorf – Bern

#03 – 30,084  – Stade de Genève – Geneva

#04 – 26,104 – Letzigrund – Zürich)

Righty-ho! That’s enough Googles gleaned facts about Stadion Wankdorf.

The volunteer tells us to go over the “covered bridge” which will lead us to the fan walk meeting point. I am anticipating a stunning crossing made with rocks heroically hewn from lofty Alpine peaks. Maybe with intricate iron-work balconies set into granite blocks as viewing points? I’m expecting it all to be topped by an ornate roof adorned with beautifully sculptured gargoyles and faces that have spent centuries peering down as the citizens of Bern pass over the bridge while a torrent of freezing cold water rages below.

I may have set ridiculously high ideals and the bridge disappoints me. There is no swirling torrent. Instead the bridge crosses a busy road. And I have no idea at all what the bridge looks like. It is hidden from sight by what must be acres of that material used worldwide to cover buildings undergoing construction and/or repairs.

Perhaps there are no artisan crafted gargoyles above us, their grotesque faces shielded from our own? Not only have I not seen the bridge, I don’t even know its name. It’s really quite a sad state of affairs.

However….our spirits are lifted by a chance encounter with Half-Dutch Katie (the woman from our flight to Zürich – blog #32 “Lucky. Lucky. Lucky…”).

She is sitting on a bench under shady trees and chatting with friends. They all have a huge McDonald’s cup. Maybe filled with ice-cold Pepsi? Or, my favourite, a chocolate shake? The thought makes me thirsty.

I am pleased – and surprised – to bump into HDK again. She tells us she is having a blast in Switzerland with her friends. We’re having a great time, too, I say. I ask if she enjoyed the result against The Netherlands…..or, at least, if half of her did? Katie laughs. “We ought to rename you Half-English, or, even better, Full-English Katie.” I joke.

Believe me, this is one of my better witty remarks.

Only a narrow footpath is available for crossing over the Unnamed And Disappointing Covered Bridge – the majority of the bridge’s structure is hidden by sheeting behind which workers no doubt toil at making repairs and improvements. Fans are gathering now, heading for the stadium, and the walkway is busy and our crossing is cramped.

Once over the bridge, we encounter a majestic hotel on the opposite side of side of the road. A large coach is parked in its courtyard. People are milling around in suits and ties. Some carry clipboards and are checking whatever is on their clipboards with other suited people carrying their own clipboards. If you are into clipboards, then this was the place to be.

A sole police motorcycle and its rider waits by; the police officer idly chatting with people milling around. A number of drivers stand beside highly polished black Mercedes Vito vehicles.

(I love a Vito – I have owned and driven one for 15 years. Vitos are those swish, sexy vehicles – always black in colour – seen in TV shows like “Line Of Duty”. You know the ones – the ones that the police SWAT teams arrive in. You’ve seen them….terrific vehicles….DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON VITOS!).

Something is afoot, I think. Then I notice that the coach is bedecked in UEFA Women’s Euro 2025 livery and graphics. In large white letters on its dark windows is a single word. “SPAIN”.

I quickly deduce that this must be the Spanish team bus. No flies on me.

A coach for magical players. This is La Roja’s Magic Bus.

We are outside the Swissôtel Kursaal Bern. The Kursaal is a 163 room luxury hotel built in 1860 and looks very impressive. This is obviously where Aitana Bonmatí and her pals have been hanging out while in Switzerland. Nice digs, girls.

It is somewhere around 1830 hours. The fan walk starts at 1845 and is about ten minutes walk from the Spain team’s hotel. Liam is keen to get to the fan walk ASAP. I want to see the team leave and persuade #SonInLawNo1 that, due to all the people busy in the courtyard, it stands to reason that the Spanish girls will be heading to the stadium very soon. Liam somewhat reluctantly agrees.

Our plans have been nothing if not flexible during our Swiss adventure.

We wait at the edge of the courtyard and stand behind yellow police tape that has been stretched across the opening. We have a superb view of the coach. This will be a tremendous place from which to spot La Roja players. Excellent! A small crowd gathers with us.

A besuited man leaves the hotel and comes toward us. He gestures at us and says something. I cannot follow the language but it is clear that we all need to move away from the courtyard edge and relocate to the pavement across the narrow road. His gesturing and hand signals indicate this is because the coach needs room to manoeuvre when it leaves and we are right in its way.

We move across the road as requested. Because we are good folk and obey the rules. Half-Dutch/Full-English Katie is among those watching from the pavement. The team coach can still be clearly seen from our new position.

Until new arrivals begin to gather by the tape and take up what had, until moments earlier, been our positions. BOO!

Liam decides to head off for the fan walk. I am staying put to wait. I will follow on and meet up with him at the stadium. It surely can’t be much longer before the Spain team come out.

But they keep us waiting. The Besuited Man comes back and approaches the group of new watchers standing where we had been. Good! I think. He’s going to tell them to move too.

Sure enough, Besuited Man does speak to them. He laughs, the watchers laugh. The police motorcyclist  is called over. He, too, laughs. Then, Besuited Man walks off. The motorcyclist remains. As do the new watchers. BOOOOOOO!

Part of the hotel is screened by a hedge. The hedge begins right at the point where the courtyard ends. I move close to it. The hedge is taller than me and I cannot see over. But, by raising my phone above it, I can snap away. Also, I can just about peer through the hedge and see enough to know when to start snapping.

A young man stands beside me. He places an object on the road. It is one of those heavy rubber “feet” that you often see temporary metal fence panels – as used at concerts etc – slotted into. He stands on the base, raises his camera – not a phone but an actual 35mm camera – and tests his viewpoint. He leaves, then returns with a second rubber base. He stacks them. And tests his position again. He takes up watch. I am not sure if he is a “paparazzi”. His camera lens is just a standard type, not one of those great long ones you see used by sports photographers. But a lanyard is around his neck and a UEFA accreditation hangs from it.

I motion to him and try to mime that he is on the narrow road and it is dangerous as vehicles keep passing by. I attempt to show himthat, because the courtyard level is higher than the road by a few inches, if he repositions himself, he will both safer and a little more elevated. Try having that conversation in the internationally recognised language of charades. Not easy.

But he moves as I’ve shown. And then beckons me to join him on his raised platform. I decline. He persists. I agree – I’m English after all and it would be rude to not accept his offer.

Finally, La Roja – the Spain team – exits the Kursaal and begin to board the magic bus. Their support staff – physios, medics, coaches, whatever else they have – either get on the bus with them or pile into the many Vitos waiting.

I snap away. I even take some video. Then, everyone now on board the coach and various Vitos, I leave the Kursaal and set off in search of Liam.

Firing up the “Find My’ app, I begin to trace his route. I am generally rubbish at using digital maps to get around. I usually walk for a while before discovering that I am heading in the wrong direction completely. This doesn’t happen here – I’m partly using the app for guidance while, simultaneously, following the crowds of Spain and Italy shirts. But the app is trying to send me down side streets and around corners that the crowd is not going down. I can see the Liam’s face on the app and it is not on any of the routes that I am being told to go along.

It takes me a while to work out that the app is plotting Liam’s route while on the fan walk. All I need to do is aim for his picture, ignore the directions. This is my Alan Partridge moment…AHA!

Concentrating on heading towards his mugshot, I limp on. Getting hotter and hotter and increasingly weary. How far is the stadium?

Then, with the Wankdorf looming in front, I spy Liam in the crowd of fans ahead. He spots me and raises his arms into the air above the throng.

In each hand he holds a can of what I instinctively know is ice-cold beer.

He’s a good lad, is #SonInLawNo1.

Bethany chose well.