Day 9 - Marseille and the start of Euro 2016

Marseille and the start of Euro 2016

And so, finally, I made to Marseille and a proper night's sleep in an actual bed.

Again the car option was fine and it was special to wake up in Les Noniers at 4am and able to get out and look at a beautiful starry night in the northern hemisphere. After warming up the car and wandering off to look at the local maps by the Mairie (as my data connection was lost) to decide on the best way to get back to a motorway, I set off.

4am in the hills above Valence

It took an hour to get out of the almost mountainous area where I had slept to Valence and the Rhone valley where the terrain was much flatter as the motorway followed the river heading south. It was simultaneously refreshing and scary to drive at 130 km/h in the middle of tonnes of lorries and other traffic heading south but it was good to make some rapid geographical progress at last.

Another beautiful dawn

The Google SatNav is great but it doesn't quite prepare you for spaghetti junction type complexity when you arrive at a big city like Marseille. I was surprised how easily it directed me to the heart of the city but, inevitably, something went wrong when I missed a turn off and had to use my own common sense and general geographical sense of where my accommodation was to actually find it. As I arrived, another problem arose: Where to park? The streets in the area I am staying are very old and narrow and almost every available meter is used for parking by someone. So, what chance to find a parking place near my host?

Closing in on Marseille, finally

First impression - huge and modern

No problem! I phoned my host, Sabrina, and she came out to guide me in, despite me telling her I was driving a Renault, when it was a Citroen! She even parked the car for me, right underneath her apartment, as she was clearly more versed in these tight parking situations.

The silver Renault Citroen is mine, below the apartment

I was so relieved to finally arrive I gave her a big hug! Anyway, at last I had my own room again and was able to set up all my stuff for recharging and do a wash of my smelly clothes. Then, it was off to explore the massive network of long narrow streets that is Marseille. My first goal was to buy a new pair of shorts, which I did from H & M. Then, I wandered around looking for the Euro 2016 fan center. The "Free Lions" (England) fans group rep was very helpful and told me how to get to the fan zone, about a 50 minute walk from where I was staying by the beach.

Vieux Port - Scene of so much ugly violence later

Long narrow streets like this everywhere

That done, it was time for a beer. It's a bit of a challenge in some parts of the world to get a decent one but thankfully the craft beer revolution is taking hold everywhere and Marseille has one or two places where only beer made for love, not solely for maximising profit, can be found. My first, stop, ironically, was at a pub called the Red Lion, where I noticed they sold "Chouffe", a Belgian beer. I don't think it was the same "La Chouffe", the coriander infused beer, I am familar with. At least I didn't detect the same flavour, but it was a nice drink nevertheless. Then, I went looking for a brewpub called La Plaine which sell their own craft beer brewed here in Marseille. On the way I saw a beer shop called Fietje dedicated to the art, and I bought a few from there too, to be consumed on those occasions when good beer cannot easily be found.

Craft Beer Shop - Not everyone wants bland beers advertised on tely

Locally brewed IPA

The brewpub for La Plaine

Then, it was back to the flat to drop my stuff off and get ready for the opening ceremony. It was a long, but spectacular, walk from the flat to the fan zone and I started to think blisters were forming on my feet but it was worth it, just for the experience.

Castellane in Marseille 

Avenue du Prado is long

At least I got to hold the Henri Dauleny trophy! Well kind of...

A couple of enterprising Mancunians (one City one United) had replicas made of these two trophies and were selling "rights" to have a photo with them for 2 euros a pop. I'm 'aving some of that!

The closest I'll ever get to the Premier League

Probably the worst beer in the world 

Let me get this off my chest straight away. UEFA is probably as corrupt as FIFA, even today. The evidence is the cozy deal the chief "sponsors" have probably tied up with the european football authority, and have done for years. I wonder which committee members probably benefited from fat back handers to seal such an extraordinary guarantee of exclusivity. In particular, as a beer-loving football fan, words cannot express my disappointment that, yet again, every single (100% probability) official UEFA event offers, to thousands of fans, one beer and one beer alone - Carlsberg.

I hate Carlsberg.

The idea that I would probably rather drink my own urine comes to mind, even if it is not technically true. But I certainly would rather drink water, so that is what I did. The best strategy for fans attending these fan zones is to eat and drink nothing. My plea to fans is not to add to the ill-gotten gains of the corrupt people that rigged such events. Have a drink before attending and then, after the match, have a drink afterwards... elsewhere. That is probably my plan, anyway. 

The only beer for football fans - coz we're all mugs

Special covered stand for the "sponsors" everyone else ot wet

I know my plea will probably fall on deaf ears. Fans want to drink beer and 99% probably don't care what it is that they are drinking, as long as it doesn't actually taste like urine. With Carlsberg that is factually true. It is a beer of some sort. Like a MacDonalds burger is food. Now don't get me wrong, I will eat MacDonalds when I am hungry and need a quick food fix. It's cheap, quick, globally consistent and it's more nutritionally balanced and healthy than foodie snobs would admit. But, given the choice, when you want to have an enjoyable meal, you wouldn't choose MacDonalds, you'd choose a nice restaurant with a good menu to choose from. The key word of course is... "choose". The idea that thousands of beer-drinking football fans would all choose to drink Carlsberg if there was another beer choice available is probably laughable. The sad truth is that, if any such choice was ever introduced it would probably be the option of drinking Heineken (the Dutch mega brewer), Stella Artois (the Belgian mega brewer), Budweiser (the American mega brewer) or some other mega brewer. At the very least, UEFA should open up the possibility to local brewers to get together and offer an alternative. I understand there are concerns about alcohol here. Most craft brews are much stronger than the (probably watered down further) relatively weak and bland Carlsberg. But the deal could include provisos that the beers on sale have a maximum Alcohol By Volume level. At least then we'd have a choice, probably.

Rant over.

France 2 Romania 1

So, it begins. The opening ceremony was typically pretentious and confusing, dominated by some git who apparently has a reputation for being a DJ with lots of dancers in strange costumes pratting about on what looked like a kind of map of a grand mansion's garden.

No appreciation from me for that, then, but I must admit that I do love the anthems. The French anthem is one of the best. Such a stirring and passionate melody. We must turn a blind eye to the lyrics, which basically seem to be encouraging genocidal revenge for a previous wave of brutality by enemies of France. I have to turn a blind eye to them, as I still don't know them!

Here are the words... Quite incredible in today's sensitive world.

Arise, children of the Fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us tyranny's
Bloody banner is raised, (repeat)
Do you hear, in the countryside,
The roar of those ferocious soldiers?
They're coming right into your arms
To cut the throats of your sons, your women!

To arms, citizens,
Form your battalions,
Let's march, let's march!
Let an impure blood
Soak our fields!

What does this horde of slaves,
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings want?
For whom are these vile chains,
These long-prepared irons? (repeat)
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage
What fury it must arouse!
It is us they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!

To arms, citizens...

What! Foreign cohorts
Would make the law in our homes!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would strike down our proud warriors! (repeat)
Great God! By chained hands
Our brows would yield under the yoke
Vile despots would have themselves
The masters of our destinies!

To arms, citizens...

Tremble, tyrants and you traitors
The shame of all parties,
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will finally receive their reward! (repeat)
Everyone is a soldier to combat you
If they fall, our young heroes,
The earth will produce new ones,
Ready to fight against you!

To arms, citizens...

Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors,
Bear or hold back your blows!
Spare those sorry victims,
Who arm against us with regret. (repeat)
But not these bloodthirsty despots,
These accomplices of Bouillé,
All these tigers who, mercilessly,
Rip their mother's breast!

To arms, citizens...

Sacred love of the Fatherland,
Lead, support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished Liberty,
Fight with thy defenders! (repeat)
Under our flags, may victory
Hurry to thy manly accents,
May thy expiring enemies,
See thy triumph and our glory!

To arms, citizens...

The Romanian anthem, with respect, seems bland to me - but of course, nowhere near as bad as the English "God Save Our Queen".

Finally, the kick off, and Romania set about shocking the hosts with a barrage on their goal that only narrowly failed. The first ten minutes belonged to Romania and Evra was lucky not to be booked in my opinion as the Romanian right sided winger gave him a real going over. France, inevitably, settled and hit the post in one of their attacks. The Frenchman next to me wouldn't have it that this was unlucky. Apparently players should be so good that they should be able to direct headers to millimeter precision.

The first half ended goal less. I know that only because of the internet. I shamefully have to admit that I had fled the fan zone at this point. Very dark ominous clouds were gathering and the prospect of a downpour seemed a matter of "when" not "if". So I legged it. In another of my self-induced mini adventures, I took a wrong turn trying to find my way back to the huge Avenue de Prado which I'd walked down earlier, and knew there were a plethora of bars likely to be showing the match. On the way, I witnessed a fight at a bus stop where a guy was having his head smashed against the glass window with a girl screaming for him to stop. I did consider intervening... for about three seconds, but continued on my way. Coward, right?

Anyway, I found a restaurant that fit the bill and watched the second half there, eating steak and chips and half a carafe of house red, whilst chatting to some New Yorkers. Three guys, including one with his heavily pregnant wife, who were crazy about "soccer" had come all the way to watch this football spectacle, like me. They went to Brazil too. On my right was this sweet (but very pissed) guy from Northern Ireland. Obviously a Catholic, he told me how he was supporting both Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic, much to the annoyance of some of his friends. But he told me overall, most fans on both sides were hoping for the best for both.

The second half was really pretty good. After making a couple of crucial saves (although for me when a hard, low shot is struck and it hits the goalie's feet, you can't really attribute much credit to the goalie) the Romanian keeper, Tatarusanu, inexplicably tried to catch a cross that he'd have been better punching, or leaving alone. Instead it landed on the head of Olivier Giroud and he doesn't miss (often) from there. Credit to Romania, they struck straight back. Evra, I thought luck to get away without a yellow in the first half, tripped a Romanian striker going through and the penalty was put away nicely by Bogdan Stancu just eight minutes later. Romania had a couple of chances themselves after that to go into the lead but the game seemed to be heading for a draw until Dimitri Payat, the West Ham United midfielder, who had played a blinder, scored an absolute screamer to win the tie in the 89th minute.

Payet about to unleash the last gasp winning thunderbolt

Justice was just about done and so the first match ended according to the preference of the bookies. I thought it was one of the best, tournament openers I've seen.

Anyway, it was then a long walk back to the apartment where an actual bed awaited me. Bliss!

Aljice

Marseille