Soviet Engineering

We arrived into a hot and balmy Kiev, late, following the delays fromaà L'viv. Our immediate task was to plan our departure back to Warsaw. With the sporadic information we found in Warsaw telling us there were no spaces left, we were becoming frantic to discover our returning fate. We duly received assistance from the gorgeous Maria, who helped us translate through our ticket booking. Not only were there tickets, but did we want the Ukrainian or Polish part of the train? The clear lack of cohesion between these countries is infuriating.

Once booked, we cruised towards our hostel, which conviniently overlooked the Olympic Stadium. Named The Olive Hostel, it was lovely and clean and well decorated. We showered then hit the sights of Kiev. We headed towards the Caves Monestries or Kiev Pechersk Lagrange. This 28 hecter site is a wonderful complex and is full of gold domes churches, mixed with beautiful gardens and walkways all the way down to the vast Dnipro River. I was amazed at how big the Dnipro was, larger than the Danube at its widest in Belgrade. Nikolay Gogol joked in his writting that it was so wide, that birds fall down before reaching the middle.

We were then drawn by a large silver statue, representing the finish of WWII and commemorating all who battled. The entire complex was serene and very Soviet. An eclectic clash.

We were keen to find a monument to commemorate those that died in the repercutions in what is known as The Death Match, a football game between some Kievite players that took on the Nazi  Wehrmacht. Details were sketchy on this monument, some said the "Start Stadium" but maybe the Dynamo Kiev stadium had this monument, to which we were nearby. Upon trying to get close we were told by the security guard it would be 50 Hyrivna's (£4) each. Clearly a bribe, we argued with him, before he said it wasn't really what we were looking for, there was something at Dynamo, but the one we wanted was at Start Stadium. Where was this? He could offer no further help, even with a map.

We headed towards the fan zone to capture the main square, then the football. Spain Vs Croatia was the game to watch, the Ireland vs Italy game almost a bye for the Italians...

A smart and intelligent Croatia played well against Spain, but a poor miss following some neat play by Modric was punished by a dubious offside goal from the Spaniards (Bollocks to this phase play nonesense. Nevas was offside). With the Italians cruising to a 2-0 victory with a remarkable goal from Ballotelli, the technically astute and tactically sound Croats were out.

We decided to have an early night, a big day lay ahead tomorrow, but we wanted to get a late snack in the largest city we've vistited by far. It was impossible, we ended up with a stodgy piece of Raspberry cake and a bottle of water, for a heavy eastern European price too!

We arose the next morning at 7:45, early for our standards. We prepped for our day ahead; long sleeves, trousers, no flipflops or open toed footwear, then departed to our collection point in the North of Kiev. As twenty of us waited for our bus to arrive we were nervously apprehensive. Yuri turned up and we headed north through a slowly building up rush hour traffic set. We eventually broke free of the busy city traffics grasp, and two hours later were at a checkpoint: The 30km exclusion zone for Chernobyl. After a brief check, our tour guide for the day, Nikolai borded the bus. We headed deeper into the depths of the exclusion zone, whilst Nikolai laid out the plans for the day, whilst also giving us information on the events and outcomes of that fateful day on 26th April 1986.

We approached the town of Chernobyl, where we stopped at a local store. Chernobyl has a population of workers still, there is on going work at the Nuclear Power Plant, research of the continuing effects and building of a new Sarcophigous to contain the Elephants Foot of nuclear meltdown material. Staff can only do 15 days on/15 days off or 4 days on/3 days off. We went to a shop to stock up on water, ice cream and a few souviners.

We departed to an old village school, which was evacuated a couple of days after the incident, but totally abandonded. We were allowed into the building, the only one due to changes to what can and can't be done with health and safety.

Next up was the ghost town Pripyat, with our first viewing of the infamous Reactor 4 and chimney stack. We also went over 'Death Bridge', where the towns people went upon hearing the explosion, as it looks onto the power plant. All who went to this bridge either died shortly after or suffered long lasting illness due to radiation posioning.

Prypriat was constructed to support the workers and families of the Power Plant. Following the incident, the 50,000 residents were evacuated within a tight 3 hours. They were told it was a temporary measure and would be back in a few days. To this day, no one has lived there since. The town is serene. We had a 45 minute walk around, visiting the famous Ferris wheel and deserted football stadium. We had lunch inside a building near the Power Plant, then took in more sights, before going as close as we would all day to the Monster that is Reactor 4.

We got to within a couple of hundred metres; we were warned we had a strict 15 minutes, we viewed the Geiger counter: more than 100 times the normal backgrounds radiation levels. At 36.7 micro sivets when a high 'normal' is 0.3! Nickolai was swift to get us in the time scales. We then drove slowly back through the two checkpoints, getting checked for radiation. Everyother day someone has too high a level, it is normally their shoes that have picked up too much radiation loving Leichen. They must leave their shoes behind if this is the case. I didn't ask what if it isn't their shoes...

Upon leaving I was thrilled. I am fanatical about the Soviets, and Chernobyl. The whole story is fascinating, the cover up, the discovery from a Swedish Nuclear Power Plant the only reason the Soviets owned up!

However, I was also solemn. The ghost town, the several monuments to the 28 Firemen that died as they went to tackle fires from the initial explosions without any radiation protection. The 600,000 people who helped in the clean up opperation...

Upon getting back, via our minibus breaking down just outside Kiev twice, with Yuri somehow fixing it, we had the evenings game. Another game we had tickets for, Sweden vs France in Kiev.

The Stadium was impressive, bang in the centre of the city, non of this Industrial Estate crap. The number of Swede's was impressive, given their exit. There must have been 15-20,000 in the stadium. Sweden attacked strongly, France were retaining the ball, but lacked anything in the final third. The first half finished goalless. I feared we might witness the first 0-0. I also heard England were 0-0. Zlatan Ibrahimovic had been creatively industrial all game. A lot came through him as he came deep looking for the ball, linking play well. Nasri was his usual petulant playboy self. Benzema might as well have not played. Ten minutes of the second half and the breakthrough came. A stunning scissor kick volleyed strike to put Sweden 1-0. Who scored? That man Zlatan.

France foraged, but were giving up, England were 1-0 up thanks to Rooney's hair piece and that result would seal France's passage to the last 8. As we approached injury time, Sweden kept on coming to the French, desperate to repay the hordes of travelling fans further.

After some pinball in the box, Sebastian Larsson took control of the situation, smashing the ball into the roof of the net for 2-0. Minutes later, the final whistle went, the Swedish players went to their corner of the ground, several players throwing boots and shirts into the sea of yellow. With England winning they topped the group, France limping over the line, with the Swedes and hosts Ukraine out.

We went out that evening, meeting up with some French guys and having a good laugh, drink and dance.

The next day we decided to hit the Chernobyl museum and to finally try and find the Death Match monument. I think I have found it. We dropped bags of at the station, before hitting a cab to the Chernobyl museum. We had a heated debate upon arrival; the first tosser of a taxi driver all trip, trying to rip us off. We argued intensley, before throwing what we felt was a fair fare at him and legging it.

The Chernobyl museum was amazing, more a homage to the aftermath and those that perished. I was able to help a tour guide and talked through some of the chronology of the accident to his American group, impressing the guide with my detailed knowledge of the incident, he asked for my E-mail so I could help him with future guides. I obliged.

Following our harrowing Taxi ride, we went via the Metro to our next destination: Death Match monument. We found the Start Stadium with relative ease, and with some help from a pretty local, located it. Excellent! Right, few snaps, then we have to leg it, we have 40 mins to get our Train to Warsaw. We were running, the plan go get a taxi in a taxiless district not good. We found one and negotiated a price prior to destination station. We arrived, and saw the lovely Maria again, before collecting our bags and finding our final sleeper train to Warsaw... We decided to get quite drunk on the train, tapping into the two litre bounty we acquired in L'viv. We were surprised for a 14 hour train that there was no restaurant car, however, the locals knew this, and our first stop with any time drew around 30 locals selling everything from beer, cigarettes and home made food. We stocked up and continued our party. The border was intense and took 3 hours, not only did we have the usual welcoming Eastern European border patrol, but the wheels had to be changed because of the variation from the Soviet guage to European. It was no F1 pit stop. Once done we settled for the remainder of the trip to Warsaw, slightly tanked from the session.

I enjoyed Kiev and the three days we had, although it wasn't long enough including the Chernobyl trip. I would like to come back and to see its beauty further. There were a couple of sights we wanted to get in, but time didn't allow.

Two Litres of Vodka and a Diplomat of UN

We were woken the morning after the Denmark v Portugal game by our chinese couple room mates (the guy cried upon seeing Ronaldo the night before at the game) the following morning, by their incesant packing which took around 3 hours. This also included a partial photoshoot of them in their Euro 2012 gear. Make of that what you will.

We were due to move hostels in L'viv for economical purposes, and the Hostel manager, Bogdan, allowed us to leave later as it was our first chance to regroup some lost energy for our long stint of travelling.

We departed for our new Hostel, named Shevchenko (not after the footballer, but a historical figure). We were told of free washing facilities, and upon despatching our smouldering clothes went for lunch.

Our lunch consisted of a three course meal at L'viv's top restaurant, including Cavier for starter, I had quail with Raspberry and pear sauce, Hutch had a fancy chicken and Bacon stuffed with cheese and herbs. We both had a side of garlic potatoes. Dessert for me was a glorious Plum and double cream wrapped in a super soft sponge of honey flavour. Hutch had a fantastic chocolate gateux that was richer than Abramovic. With our customary local ale, it came to a massive £15 a head! Absolute bargain!!!

As we began to digest our luxurious lunch, we hung our washing out, then headed downstairs to be greated by a mob of locals, a couple of travelling Danish youngsters and a Portuguese guy, all nailing vodka. All quite tipsey. We were invited to join the inner sanctum with the locals topping our glass every time it hit empty. Before long we were merry and the bottle empty. We hit town for the football, meeting a Pole and a German couple, getting back onto Vodka.

The Danes challenged us to that well known Danish game of "Who's going to be sick first" (not Lego surprisingly!). Hutch and I were certain of the Danes, the Danes reciprocated, laying the loser to us English. As we continued our drinking on the table, within a minute of our new game, I noticed the younger of the Danes with his head over the ground. "Are you being sick?" I chirped as Hutch departed his conversation and turned and faced us. "Err, no, err, you know, itsch juscht the wadded before de schick...". Cue laughted and a heated debate as to whether this counted or not. Fortunately for us, and less fortunate for the Danes, we were crowned champions of the "Who's going to be sick first" game!

We continued drinking and watched the evenings games, I rember little, but the football showed the Republic of Ireland, full of free agents and Championship players, to be exactly that against a strong European and World champions Spain, whilst Croatia proved a force to be reckoned with by clasping a draw against the Italians. The Irish were out, the Croats needing a win against Spain, or a result from the Irish against Italy and a draw for them against Spain.

The next afternoon when we rose, was difficult. I hadn't felt this bad all trip, Hutch not too much better. We struggled through some sweaty meat, toured around L'viv a bit before deciding against the fanzone for the England game, having watched a sturdy Ukrainane performance turn to a 2-0 loss to the French. We found a swish bar showing the football, and settled down. Not long into the game, a few locals, wanting Sweden to win, invited us to their table as the Swedes equalized! We obliged and subsequently started the nicities. We soon discovered that one was a local TV presenter, proved by the occasional interruption from locals to say hi, and the Ukrainian Diplomat for the UN, with photos of him at the UN HQ in New York. We kept on drinking whilst the game swung into Sweden's favour, receiving jeers from other around us. Although I'm not an England supporter, it is difficult to explain I don't care and the subsequent answers to the questions of why. I just nod and smile. As Theo equalized with some luck from citeh reject Issakson, we ordered a Shisha pipe and carried on drinking with our new friends. I nipped to the toilet as Welbeck sealed the comeback (still haven't seen the goal), with grunts from the surrounding fans. England's victory was probably deserved, Sweden were only good from set pieces and held a weird midfield that was probed like a drug smuggler at customs.

Our friends were now more stociois than us, and after the UN guy passed out, they left. We noticed he'd left his iPhone. As good Samaritans, and no way of contacting them, we held onto it, before partying away into the small hours with some newly acquired Danish friends from the fallout and commotion of the UN dude passing out.

The following morning, with the iPhone dead, Hutch purchased a charger. Within a second of power coming on, we had a call. Hutch answered and it was Julian, the UN guy! We arranged a meet, and along with reimbursement of the cost of the charger, we were given a massive 2 litre deluxe bottle of Ukrainian Vodka! Win!

We slowly ambled through the rest of the day, changing hostel for the final time in L'viv, taking in more sights, before going for a beer at last nights venue. The Danes we met the previous night were there, and we slowly drank and ate through the rest of the day, hitting the first of the double headers in the group games, with the flacid Group A. The Danes had put a few Euro's on the games, which made it more interesting. We could only see the Russia game. The first half was timid, before Greece took the lead before half time following some poor defensive work. The game finished 1-0 as did the Czech vs Poland game, meaning my early tournament dark horses, Russia were out, along with host Poland, with a weak Greece and resurgent Czech team the teams to progress. The Danes lost a lot of money, which put a dampener on the last night in L'viv.

We headed to our new abode, full of ignorant and loud Germans, peaceful and timid Danes and had a terrible nights sleep. We regretably arose the next day and headed out. Our aim, was literally that. Fire some guns!

Our Hostel recommended a place, we went and had a safety lesson in Ukrainian, before deciding on our arsenal. We went for an AK-47, an optical 7.62mm sniper and a 9mm revolver. The total for our session was £15 each. I beat hutch with the AK and revolver, he won with the Sniper. I'll take that!

We then climbed the City hall, admiring the views across L'viv. It's lovely town was shouldered by some dour Soviet grey flats and factory buildings. L'viv wasn't touched by the wars, and so its history is clear to see from this vantage point, as capitalist constructed builds were a layer further out. The evening left us with the Group of Death to finalize. We had to leave slightly early to catch a train to Kiev, but were able to see the Danes take the lead with Krone-Dehli, only for Podolski the German Pole, to equalize. In the other game we heard the Dutch had taken the lead, but Ronaldo was finally finding form bagging a brace. I asked a good friend Lfec to text me the updates as we departed for the station in haste.

Upon arrive I received two pieces of bad news. Germany and Portugal qualified, with the oranje Dutch and Danes out, but also our train to Kiev was delayed by two hours, apparently this always happens (why not change the timetable??). Even more infuriating having left the football early.

We finally boarded the sleeper train, sharing for the first time, with a Ukrainian woman and a grouchy non descript Eastern European. We snoozed whilst our train zipped across to Kiev.

L'viv is an awesome city, had loads going on away from the football and has a smooth nightlife that is chatty and for us Western Europeans, bloody cheap. If you can ever muster your way over, do so. It has providied us with many a laugh, great local company and above all retains a good clash of east meets west. Go. Now.

Celebrity Big Pizza

Awaking the next day to an oversized Ukrainian in your room is quite scary, Hutch and I decided to get ready and get out to the Stadium in Wroclaw, walk through the old town and then settle on a spot to watch the days games in the fan zone.

We first had to drop our bags at the station, as we had a night train to Gdansk and didn't want to drag our bags around all-day, and Sas the Ukrainian was going to come too as he was in need of a train to Frankfurt, before buying a car and driving to Donets'k. I didn't ask too many questions on why...

So on getting to the station I was translating from French to English, for this train info. After finding out it was going to be €150, Sas then decided to inform me he could get a lift from Wroclaw to Frankfurt, for €35 with some friends. If we'd got this information earlier, I'd have told him not to bother with the trains and saved 45 mins. Now bagless, we headed for lunch, the translation issues were still here, so we just ordered for Sas on the basic info we could get. He eneded up, like Hutch, with Pigs Trotter, me, a steak!

Now full of assorted cuts of animal body, we headed towards the stadium. The trams were smart and efficient, and there were plenty of them heading out.

Upon approach, the stadium looked good and trim. We wanted to get close to this masterpeice, but the security perimetter didn't allow us to within 200 metres, we checked by walking the perimetter, but in doing so discovered this stadium wasn't quite finished. Fence posts still jutted with no fence attached, instead temporary measures in place. The footpaths had kerbs, still awaiting their tarmac surface. Although not core to the stadium, still functional requirements I'm sure. One thing going through our mind was would this ever get completed post tournament? Who would care? What would be the point? League attendances in Poland are low, and can't see this tournament driving them up to fill these gorgeous, half completed stadiums.

Another thought, UEFA, the money machine and masters of expoliting most opportunities for more of the fans money, had potentially missed something here, we weren't the only people looking, holding the outter security fences wanting to get closer. Surely a €10 organised stadium tour on none match days would reap a sum, but also satisfy those that couldn't get tickets because the slightly empty corporate sections had been sold off for millions in lucrative deal?

We watched the evenings football, stunned by the Dutch defeat. Our thoughts, including Sas was that the Dutch didn't play as a team. The world cup finalists from two years ago weren't so cohesive as then. Robben too selfish, van Persie not his usual self. The only positive was the mastering strokes of Sneijder and apart from the goal, an otherwise solid defence. The Danes had a game plan, not negative, more containment and counter attack, which they did to great aplomb. Poulsen looked cool and competent on the ball, Krohn-Dehli's goal composed.

Before the last game, we grabbed some food, an extra large flavoursome traditional Polish casserole for less than 3 quid.

The Germany Portugal game was interesting for Hutch and I, we would be in L'viv to see Denmark Portugal in a few days time, so a first chance to see the stadium. Another big game seemed to pass Ronaldo by, Nani looked out of his depth. The Germans were, as ever, well drilled and fresh. Gomez is not a favourite of mine, he reminds me of a poor mans Andy Cole; he gets into positions, but needs 5 chances to get a goal. He most certainly could have stopped the Rubble machine Chelsea from buying that Champions League. He took his goal well to his credit, and the Germans played out the game well.

We trundled off to get our train, swapped contact details with our Ukrainian friend and boarded to depart. We joked about the potential of the electric cables coming down, before setting down in our new and fresh, ready for the Euro's carrige and we were impressed. Despite this, also slightly upset, we wanted an ageing communist peice of engineering, with an occasional malfuction, not the modem IKEA spec.

Rolling into Gdansk after a good night sleep, we wondered the old town for several hours. A gorgeous centre, with a nice baroque variation on Wroclaw. In distance ahead, remnants of WWII were still presnet. Bridges and building not reconstructed. Although done due to to a lack of budget, and not for dramatic effect, we both thought it added to the character of the city.

Our home for the night was a campsite in the shadow of the Gdansk Arena. We decided to get out there early and see if we could get tickets. Upon approaching the stadium, its beauty befell upon us, a gorgeous amber coloured bowl glistening on the blue sky. Amber because the Baltic coast, where Gdansk is situated, is known for large amounts of Amber along the shores.

Once we found our pitch, with a few hundred Spanish; excitement came when one Spanish woman returned to the camp, ecstatic because she now had a ticket, fellow Spaniards whooped for her joy.

We meandered back to the stadium. The completion was worse than Wroclaw, whole roads half completed, a bridge with only the rebar complete, awaiting the pours of concrete. Our campsite was on a dirt track, this was actually a main thoroughfair from the nearby train station. We enquired for tickets. €275, €200, special deal €500 for a pair. I wanted to go, but not that badly. It wasn't United.

We settled for a beer, only to see Joe Calzaghe the boxer, sat next to us. He was in his Italy top(half Italian, half Welsh, like tthe Welsh will ever qualify, well actually with the stupid 24 team Euro's to start in 2016, who knows...), a brief nod of acknowledgement was all that was required and we left him to his beer as we chatted over ours.

We were getting hungry, our morning pastries now digested. We saw a sign: Pizza. We'd yet to have any non traditional food, but the stadium was on the outskirts and food was rare.

We entered, it was a pub, that served pizza, the sign to allure the Italians no doubt. The waitresses attractive and the menu... WHAT... a 24" pizza! A meat feast was ordered. A whopping 452 square inches of pizza. Compared to 113 on a 12". We had to break to finish but finish we did. Even the waitress was impressed. But this pub had more to it; cheap beer, pool and a football table. After three games of pool and table football, the pizza and pints, we'd spent less £15. Bargain! Best pub so far!

We searched for tickets briefly again, the touts profiteering to the decrepid Spanish economy, reports that some had paid as high as €400... had we not just lent these fools €110bn?

We returned to the campsite to watch the football in the shadow of the awesome arena. A good atmosphere ensued. A scrapy game, which I feel the ref failed to discourage. Italy looked good, controlling the game at times. The decision to remove Balotelli was justified with his petulance showing, whereas De Natale showed he is class. The decision to remove Cassano was bad, Italy didn't look the same after and there only looked to be one winner. Somehow it ended a draw. If I'd paid more than €30 for that game I'd be disappointed.

Next up, the Irish, or was it? The Spanish wanted to see Alonso mess up the F1 with his one stop strategy before Englishman Hamilton took the prize, so would I in heindsight
, but this was the Euro's, Hutch and I fought a verbal battle on principle that we should watch the football with pointing and gesturing. We won.

Unlike the Irish. A poor incepid performance that looked like Mick McCarthy might still be incharge. Weak, unorganised; Trapatoni the tactician must not be happy. The Croats solid and technical. I fancy their chances for an upset in this group!

So football done, we decided to head to the stadium, to see it lit up. What a gorgeous site. We managed to get a little closer than one ought to due to 'a technicallity' with the building site, but as I hope you see, it was worth it.

So, bed, then to Warsaw in the morning! I write this enroute to Warsaw, so look out for the next update, which I think will be tomorrow with an England performance to write up...