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.

From Russia with L'viv

Having left Przemysl and hitting the Ukrainian border, we were staunchly checked by the Polish guard before they departed the train, and we chugged along for a few hundread metres. Next thing to follow was something of a media circus with the Ukrainian border patrol jumping on board. All well dressed and seemingly chirpy (Our Ukrainian can order two beers and a please and thank you...) chat from the guard, as they went about the business of checking passports, we then noticed other guards taking photo's, whilst the border patrol posed with passports, looking intensely, yet caringly onto our documents. The Soviet Union was a staunch advocate and emphatic power with propagander plays, and for a former Soviet state hosting a major event, there seemed to be a focus here on looking like a friendly host and showing a care free border crossing experience allowing people into the Ukraine.

The truth, having spent weeks planning this trip, was that working out a time and cost effective way to travel between these co host countries was farsical to say the least! The cohesion between them not apparent. We have still yet to find a way between the two capitals; Warsaw and Kiev.

Upon finally hitting L'viv, our host for the next 4 nights and first port of call in the Ukraine, we were greated by yet more media circus. Camera's pointing in our direction, and requests of interviews being laid down. We allowed the travelling Danes and Portugese to pick up the limelight, whilst we headed beyond the shadows of the train station and into glorious weather towards the tram stop to venture into town.


The 1940's tram approached and as we boarded, we realised that if we thought Poland were not ready, then the Ukrainans may have forgotten their duty as host all together. Signage in the roman alphabet was sparse and volunteers were no more beyond the station. We coped and within twenty minutes had hit downtown L'viv and found our accomodation! We downed bags and stumbled across a local restaurant. After some finger jabbing, jesturing and random translation we order the local delicacy Borsch (a local soup) for Hutch and Tripe in a cream and mushroom sauce for me (I hate mushrooms, but the translation was lost!). When in Rome and all that! As was standard practice by now, we shared the food we'd ordered to allow both of us a  taste of the local cusine. The food was suprisingly nice, despite the mushrooms, although Hutch still can't believe he ate tripe...

So, part of the reason for this travelling is to see some live football; we had tickets for Denmark Vs Portugal in L'viv. So after consuming the local cusine (and pints), headed towards the Arena L'viv. We borded a bus (there is no tram to the new stadium, that was plauged by construction problems throughout!) and after a 25 minute journey arrived... but there was still another 15 minutes of walking.

We had to collect our tickets in what I can only describe as a chaotic and badly organised queue. Once collected we headed into the ground. The stadium is a modest sized 35,000 capacity, and was constructed in a fairly hastily fashion. The surrounding areas were still unfinished, but the main compound was complete. The stadium itself is quite unique in it's style and for a new build has character.

If the stadium was impressive, the game was better. Although the first twenty minutes were fairly bland (I was fearing I could witness the first goalless draw of the tournament) the game opened up with Pepe's firm header from a corner. Suddenly the game jolted from it's slumber and action was abound. The otherwise useless Helder Postiga soon doubled the advantage after some good wing play and a drilled cross by Nani left Postiga with little to do. Portugal seemed in crusie control.

Just as the half was coming to a close, the Danes took advantage as the Portuguese were caught napping. The fancy named Krone-Dehli managed to unselfishly nod a loose cross back across goal for Bendtner to head into an almost unguarded net. Game on!

The second half started and again was cagey. Portugal had the better of the play, but failed to make anything count. Cristiano Ronaldo disappointed with a one on one, which was punished minutes later as Bendtner again nodded in to draw things level. Ronaldo was angry; he knew his poor finishing had potentially cost his team. He raised his game another notch, although his petulance earned him a booking. With just three minutes remaining, Portugal would be almost out of contention. Cue substitute Silvestre Varela to steel the show with a composed half stike past the flailing Andersen. Ronaldo looked relieved; the Danes devastated on the final whistle.

Once the game had finished, we took a while leaving, spending time walking around the insides of the stadium. Considering the tickets had cost 70 Euro each, we were treated with little respect when trying to take photo's, being ushered out quite quickly. I found this hugely frustrating, given that the previous stadiums were fortresses to get near; but when you pay up, you are urged to get out again quickly! This all smells of corporate UEFA, I'm sure the corporate dignitaries, those that turned up, were still inside, drinking complimentary champagne... Our journey back to the centre was a wierd one. It involved walking about 20 mins to the motorway, though a field with something that could be a path upon completion, and waiting for a bus, before rushing on in no particular order, in fact, walking alongside the bus until it stopped, then dashing on!

That evening came to a rather sharp close after watching the Netherlands capitulate to Germany and the previous days treck between the hosts. The Netherlands needed a small mirical to qualify now, whilst the German's, baring a minor mathematical miracle, were through. Both Denmark and Portugal needed the other to lose and for them to win. The Group of Death indeed!

So, the first day in the Ukraine, we saw an eventful game, but also the second of the co-hosts ability to, erm host. My impression is all the political unrest hasn't helped the Ukraine, a country that has phenomenal wealth with it's Oilgarchs, and extreme povety that is slowly getting over the early 90's economical hangover following the much maligned Soviet divorce. The stadium looked good, but it's location, and supporting infrastructure is weak. The city is awesome, but it's ability to house those unfamiliar with the Cyrillic alphabet isn't good. It reminds me of the situation with Moscow's for the European Cup in 2008. 

Russian Invasion of Warsaw

It's been a while since the last update, and there are a number of reasons why. The most important being that we hit the Ukraine, where I don't get any data allowance and it would cost me a fortune to update. I've also had technical difficulties with my phone, which is where I've been blogging from, and the third is that we've been out and about far too much to be spending time blogging. However, I am aware of demand, mainly from parents, to get more information out.


So Warsaw! We arrived in good time from Gdansk; our main priority was linking from Kiev back to Warsaw later in the trip, but getting details of this journey, and booking it, had proved difficult. I mean, it's not like the two countries are hosting a major international tournament... oh wait. There was also the difficult Warsaw to L'viv leg that needed booking, and again, details were sketchy! The plan was to get as close to the Ukrainian border as possible; this was to be a town called Przemysl, then hopefully get an onwards bus or train. We ordered our tickets, but as we'd find out later, it wasn't too straight forward. The Kiev to Warsaw was apparently fully booked. If this is the case, we were are in a slight pickle, as once in Kiev, it is a race against time, with enough time to have a party in each city, to reach our flights home from Holland!


We dropped our bags of at the Hostel, had a quick shower, and headed out, in preparation for the England France game. With England taking a decent point from the France game, I was amazed at how poor Steven Gerrard really is. Although he assisted, he was poor afterwards and showed little of his club form. One thing to note on this: There are a lot of video's covering all the players at Euro 2012. The only player to appear in his club colours? Steven Gerrard, with his screamer against West Ham in the FA cup and some other good goals for the red half of Merseyside. If you think why this might be, it's because he's never done anything in an England shirt that warrants being put on the highlight reel.


The game that followed was the Ukraine vs Sweden game, the first game for the co-hosts. If you could write the script for this game, it would probably look like this: Sweden go one up, then the Ukrainian talisman, Andrei Shevchenko would bag a brace to seal a win, then be taken off with a few minutes left to a large standing ovation. Oh, wait...


It was a Monday night in Warsaw and we stumbled across a couple of nice bars, in anticipation of a quietish night. I'd disappeared to the toilet for a couple of minutes, only to come back to Hutch being chatted up by some Polish bloke. He had worked in Ireland for 3 years and the thick Irish/Polish accent was quite funny, however Cordan was our tour guide for the night and led us on a merry dance through some of Warsaw's finer night spots!


The next day in Warsaw started to resemble something from the 1940's... there was a Russian invasion as Warsaw prepared for Poland vs Russia. We ambled through the old town (probably the biggest and most beautiful so far!) through out the day, seeing the number of Russian paraphernalia of flags, shirt and painted faces rise dramatically. As kick of approached, we headed back to the Fan Zone in the centre. Firstly to see the Czech Republic Greece game, but to get a good spot for the biggest derby of the tournament so far: Russia Vs Poland!


After watching the Czech Republic resemble a football team following their 4-1 thrashing by Russia; they beat the weak Greeks in a comfortable 2-1 win, we were suddenly feeling rather compact in the fan zone. About half an hour before kick off, it kicked off. Although I couldn't understand a word, the 100,000+ fans were getting all fired up with national songs and constant pangs of 'Polska!'. The atmosphere was excellent in the build up and was strong in the start of the game. Poland scored a disallowed goal and the place errupted. Flares were lit, people were dancing; then the realisation of the assistants flag.


Russia then took the lead, the excellent Dzagoev turning in Andrey Arshavin's cross. The mood was very sombre in the fan zone. A bunch of maybe 200 russian fans were getting some steely looks from large swaths of the Polish fans.


Half time came and went, and frustration was boiling. Then a stroke of genius, Jakob Blaszczykowski, cut in from the right and riffled a shot past the flailing Malafeev. This time the goal stood and the Polish in the fan zone were going nuts. Flares again, passionate songs for 'Polska' arising.

With the final whistle, optimism rung loud from the crowds tone! The Polish were jubilant with a draw against the more illustious, former occupants Russia.


We trudged to the train station to start an undefined journey to L'viv. We found out platform and got our tickets at the ready. Half an hour to go. Wait... the dates are wrong. A frantic rush followed. Our tickets could be used, but we couldn't get a seat for the unknown journey length... and half of Poland was going to Krakow it seemed. A mad panic ensued and we threw ourselves in a carriage. After a couple of moments we were moved around a bit. Once settled we made friends with a large portion of Poland, picking up a beer in the process from a friendly chap called Peter, then unfortunately Hutch was firmly booted from the carriage. The five hour journey was probably the worst so far. Everytime we pulled into a station, the fans  tumbled onto the platform, setting off fireworks in the process. Hutch found a spot in the corridor, and found some tramp around him after he snoozed for a bit. I left my seat for the toilet, only to find someone spread out across it. I decided to watch the world flow by as it was getting light, but fell asleep vertically with the window of the train as my pillow.


Eventually we hit Krakow, but had a mad dash across platforms to get the train to Przemysl. This journey was uneventful and we were able to catch up on some much needed sleep. We awoke near Przemysl and upon jumping off, had a special train that would take us into the Ukraine...