There Was Something In the Air That Night

The stars were bright. Fernando.
They were shining there for you and me.
For Liberty. Fernando.

Though I never thought that we could lose
There's no regret
If I had to do the same again
I would my friend. Fernando.

My contribution to UEFA Euro 2008's atmosphere was to lead a hodge-podge English-speaking contingent in a rendition of an Abba song in honor of the final match's only goal scorer. And so my month of football ends with a solitary goal by Fernando Torres to give Spain their first Cup victory in 44 years. The last time they won, they beat the Soviet Union. In all fairness, the last time Russia won, it was the Soviet Union.

Everybody is crediting Vienna with being a great host city, and in many respects it was (good weather, not too expensive, great Fan Zone), but to give Vienna all the credit overlooks the seven other cities (four of which I saw) that did an incredible job hosting. And on that note, I really wanted one of the Vienna host city t-shirts, because I've spent so much time here and the city has really grown on me, but by the time I headed into the store, alas, they were sold out. I might try scouring the city today looking for one, though I don't know what that might turn up.

It went much quicker than I thought it would, and was a lot more fun than I could ever have imagined. And the football was really good, too. But it has been an incredible experience, being here, and many of my favorite parts of it never made it into this blog or into emails back home, so I thought I would take some time on this ultimate Vienna hangover day and recount what really stood out to me on this tournament, from the ground level. So, in chronological order, and not necessarily in order of greatness, I present my favorite moments of being at Euro 2008.

Saturday, June 7
The first game was also a Switzerland game. Despite their atrociousness, the Swiss fans loved them, and it was a great introduction to the world of European fandom.

Monday, June 9
Determined to get where the action really was, and having fallen in love with the city two days earlier, I decided to take a train from Basel back to Bern for the first group 3 games - France v. Romania and The Netherlands v. Italy. The Netherlands-Italy game would be played in Bern, and I got my first taste of what actually happens at tournaments like this.
This was before I was a Holland fan. It wouldn't take long for me to become one. When I say that Bern was completely orange, that would be an understatement, because it supposes that I'm exaggerating. The water coming out of the city's fountains was orange. The air surrounding everything had an orange haze because of numerous smoke bombs. Orange paint splashed on the road and buildings. And everybody, everybody, was dressed in orange.
Holland completely routed the World Champions Italy and quickly became the tournament's favorites. But I didn't realize this at the time, I was too busy being mobbed by a group of orangemen that was way too big to fit into the fan zone.
On the train ride back, which took a little more than an hour, I sat with a group of three Dutchmen, who introduced me to everything great about the team, its history and why I should cheer for them for the rest of the tournament. I happily obliged and bought my Holland jersey the next morning.

Thursday, June 12
I'm not really sure who played this night, but it was one I spent in Grindelwald, which has by far been above and beyond my favorite adventure within this larger adventure and my favorite stop on this whirlwind tour of Europe. Not really related to the tournament, but fun nonetheless.

Tuesday, June 17
By this time I was fully entrenched in my Dutch fanness, and was proudly cheering them on as they played Romania, already having qualified for the finals. Since there's an entire post on this evening, I won't go into much more. But you should read that post if you haven't.

Wednesday, June 18
The final night of group game saw Russia play Sweden, a match that would determine who would and Spain play Greece. I was in Zürich, and thinking that there wouldn't be a big turn out of fans for any side, I thought I would just stay in. My hunger led me out. The reason the night was so good, aside from being Andrei Arshavin's stunning first appearance in the tournament, is that the Fan Zone was packed with Swedes, and every time I turned around I heard someone speaking exactly like the Swedish chef from the Muppets. Gobbly-gobbly.

Friday, June 20
This was the night I managed to get tickets for the tournament's second quarter final between Croatia and Turkey. If its any indication of how easy it was to get tickets, as of last night there were still leftover t-shirts for the match on sale.
But the house was packed, and the game went into extra time, where both teams scored in the last possible minute, pushing the game into penalties. At this point everybody in the stadium was going incredibly crazy. Most people don't like penalties, because they don't establish who was the better team. That's probably true, but they are really exciting, giving us numerous chances to cheer.
Most incredible thing about the night, however, is the fact that I ran into Alex Lim, who just happened to be sitting right behind me.


Sunday, June 22
Not thinking that I would get to go to another game, I was surprised to overhear a scalper offering tickets for less than face value. I promptly took him up on it, and made my way over to Ernst-Hoppel Stadium.
I was deep in the Spanish section for their game against Italy, a team I wanted to see lose anyway, so I gladly assumed the mantle of Spain fan for the evening, and a man next to me even lent me his scarf for the evening so I could cheer properly and not look too out of place. Since the quarterfinals started, it was the first time a team I wanted to win actually won. It also gave me a good reason for cheering for Spain as they progressed through the rest of the tournament.
On top of all that, I got to practice my Spanish, which I haven't really been able to do since fall semester, and probably will never have the chance to do again. And I got to beat on my neighbor's obnoxiously large drum, which is just fun.


Sunday, June 29
Obviously, the final was always going to be one of my favorite moments, it was just a matter of why. While I wasn't able to procure tickets at a reasonable price (they we're going for 500-700 Euros, and I figured I'd rather be able to eat for the next month), I wasn't alone.
When I woke up in the morning, I wasn't sure who I'd be cheering for, but I trusted that my answer would come in due time.
And then the German fans turned hostile. Vicious. Jerks. In To Hate Like this is to Be Happy Forever, author Will Blythe is questioned by a young boy why he so adamantly cheers against Duke. He responds (and this isn't a direct quote): "Because they're bad people." "All of them?" the boy replies. "Yes, every single one of them."
The German fans are all bad people. I didn't think this until yesterday. But on the whole, they were obnoxious, rude, crass, and just unfriendly. Like hurricanes they left a path of destruction in their wake. And here I was not hating anybody, and just because I wasn't German I was being ridiculed.
They hate the Dutch, for no other reason than the Dutch hate them. It's a long historical rivalry dating through two World Wars and climaxing in 1988 when the Dutch beat the Germans in the Euro Cup, where they celebrated throwing bicycles in the air. For more information of this wonderful rivalry, check out the first chapter of Simon Kuper's Football Against the Enemy.
So, decked in my Netherlands jersey (because any time Germany plays, Holland has a reason to cheer) and a Spain-colored wig, I headed out into the taunts and jeers of drunken German fans, armed with the wonderful retort, "Actually, I'm American, and we've beaten you in two World Wars, and Spain's going to win," which managed to eke some smiles out of drunken German fans.
A British man I befriended adequately described the atmosphere here in Vienna, "It's like a freaking colony here." One could say it was sympathetic to Germany, but that would be an understatement. While there were a couple cells of Spanish fans, but overwhelmingly, the mood was pro-German. Makes sense, seeing as they're neighbors, have radically similar cultures and the same language.
Which is why it was so great when Spain scored in the thirty-third minute and Germany just fell apart. And as the game wound down, and Spain just kept firing shot after shot at the German defense, the German's just sulked out of Fan Zone, and when the 90th minute rolled around the Spanish fans (who were now much more prevalent) erupted in jubilation. I knew it would be a good night after that.

Viva Espana.

Also, in chronological order, my favorite goals of the tournament:
Wesley Sneijder - Netherlands v. Italy, June 9: Total Netherlands "total football," as the Dutch swept almost the full length of the field to finish in Sneijder's right-footed goal.
Arjen Robber - Netherlands v. France, June 13: As if to say that getting scored on by France didn't really mean anything, less than a minute after the French goal, Robben dribbled around two French defenders and took an incredibly odd-angled shot to hit the net.
Wesley Sneijder - Netherlands v. France, June 13: Shot hit the underside of the crossbar from right outside the box. Beautiful goal that showed just how good the Netherlands were in group play.
Michael Ballack - Germany v. Austria, June 16: One of the best free kicks I've ever seen.
Andrei Arshavin - Russia v. Sweden, June 18: After missing the tournament's first two games, slid at full speed to catch a pass from Yuri Zhirkov to show why he would become the most talked-about player of the tournament.
Bastian Schweinsteiger - Germany v. Portugal, June 18
Semih Senturk - Turkey v. Croatia, June 20: In the last minute of extra time, trailing 1-0 against Croatia, the Turks made their third miraculous comeback of the tournament on a goal that seemed to come out of nowhere. Not really a pretty goal, but great for what it stood for.
Dimitri Torbinski - Russia v. Netherlands, June 21: Another goal that showcased Arshavin's ability to play make and why the Russians are a force to be reckoned with in international soccer once again.
And I guess Torres' goal last night, simply for the fact that it won the tournament, but it wasn't anything really spectacular, just a lot of determination.

Look them up on YouTube, I'm sure they're there.

What I've Learned about Soccer

For what I've really learned about soccer, and the results of all I've been researching go to my other blog here: http://politicalpitches.blogspot.com. But that's a less fun blog and more focused on compiling everything I've learned, but seeing as how someone else is footing this bill on this football-related adventure, I figured it was best to churn out some actual knowledge. It will be updated as I have time to collect my thoughts and put them in paragraph and blog post form.

Now, for the fun, travel-blog.

So today marks the end of what has been 21 days of football. Spain v. Germany. I'm still not quite sure who I'll be cheering for when kickoff comes at 8:45 tonight, though I'm tending to lean toward Germany at the moment, which belies everything my Dutch fandom from the first half of the tournament has taught me, and my three semesters as a Spanish student.

Two historically powerful teams still proving that they're powerful. Three weeks of soccer. Vienna is overrun by Spaniards and Germans. It is game 39 of 39. The tournament is over, and club seasons across the continent are over. Tomorrow morning we will wake up and there will be no more international soccer. Actually, there probably will be. Somewhere in the world someone will be playing to qualify for the 2010 World Cup, or nations will be playing friendlies for no apparent reason. On top of that, Major League Soccer - America's wonderful league - is just ratcheting up.

I guess that's the first thing I've learned.
1) Football is never over. There is very little offseason for a football player, especially a good one, who goes from regular season games to national competitions to international club competitions to international competitions. Every two years there is either a European Cup or a World Cup, and the previous two years are spent qualifying for these tournaments. Or, if none of the above is going on, nations will be playing friendlies against each other or doing charity or showcase games somewhere in the world.

2) Despite wanting to be, I am still no better than when I got cut from the Green Hope team after one round of tryouts. Nor do I have a left foot. I have played in a few pickup games (mostly while I've been out for runs because that's the only time I've really been dressed for it) and I've kicked the ball around with a few strangers or roommates, and I've come to realize that I'm just not very good at the sport, and that maybe the coaches were justified in not seeing my potential, which I'm starting to see might not have ever been there.

3) I do have the potential, however, to be a very good fan. I've realized it takes a few things, but I think I've got them down. First it takes a willingness to forget about everything else while a game is going on. Check, I've done that. I even lost a notebook during the Russia-Spain game, which was horrible for this project (sorry, Foundation) but made me realize that I actually care. Second, it takes an uncanny ability to rhyme. Check. I spent all last summer coming up with post-meal, pre-activity cheers for 10- to 12-year-old boys. I even rhymed with Cardigan. Third, it takes a willingness to blow substantial money on the sport. I think we can all tell from the simple fact that I'm here that I'm capable of that. Reading up on the sport? Check. Knowing random statistics and facts? Check, that's what this project is all about.

So while the dream of playing football at a high level might be all but dead, maybe a new dream of being a fan at a high level is just being born. Besides, I think American teams could use a little of this European fandom I have come to understand so blindingly well.

4) The Dutch have the best fans in the World. While the Irish I have met assure me that their brand of cheering is head and shoulders above the Dutch, and they just haven't had the opportunity to show it, I don't think I believe them. After 80,000 Dutchmen invaded Bern, Switzerland, in the first few days of the tournament, painted the streets literally orange, and provided the whole city a reason to celebrate, I think they easily take the cake. On top of all that, when they beat Germany in the 1988 they threw bicycles in the air. Bicycles. In the air. Think about that.

5) German fans drink more than any other nation's fans. All the bartenders I've talked to (which really isn't a lot) want Germany to win because it will be so good for business. Russians might drink faster (and harder), but the Germans drink more.

6) Calling American football "football" really doesn't make any sense. I already knew this, but every European I begin to talk to about football has to inform me that our version of football neither uses feet (except in a few rare instances) nor does it really use a ball.

7) When there's soccer, everything stops. Today is the final, and not a single store on the main thoroughfare will be open. Austria isn't even playing, yet everybody has closed down shop and

8) It's more of a people sport, I think. I got tickets for the Spain v. Italy match, a quarterfinal in what is the third largest sporting event in the world, for cheaper than it costs for a decent Carolina Hurricanes ticket. The people that have travelled all this way, especially from countries like Turkey and Croatia, are not executive, business types, with lots of money to spend on their team. They are everyday guys who are really passionate about their team and are willing to give up three weeks, or one week, or one night of their life to follow them to a foreign country to cheer them on.

9) It's the perfect length for a sport. It's long enough to be worth your money, but its also short enough to stay interested the whole time. I can even stand around and watch without being annoyed by the predicament. It's long enough to be a challenge, so that only really good athletes can participate at the best levels, but its short enough so that nobody is completely destroyed by it, unlike marathon running. It's also short enough, and consistent enough, to eliminate the need for commercials, which is always a plus for the viewer.

10) Everybody is a soccer fan. Even people you wouldn't expect. In fact, especially people you wouldn't expect. It's strange seeing the gothic, anti-social looking people who we Americans so accustomed to thinking hate sports actually passing around a ball. And the hippie types who usually look to lethargic to pass around a ball are juggling instead of hacky sacking. Businessmen open to the sports page on the subway. Old ladies are adorned with face paint.

But even after all this, men, aged 20-35, are by far and away the most dedicated and enthusiastic fans I've seen. Nowadays I don't see any of them in shirts that aren't somehow related to Germany or Spain, and they're usually already drunk, even if its 10 in the morning. Actually, they're drunk, but not too drunk to pay attention to games and football talk. They're really a breed of their own. They can pull facts and stats from nowhere, give play-by-play replays of the previous night's (or week's) match, and inform you of who will be traded where and when.

11) One day, maybe not soon, but not too far in the future, American soccer will be good. We've been flirting around the edges for the past few decades, and I wouldn't be surprised if in 2 years or 6 years, the national team starts looking really good. It's going to take some time (and quite a bit of investment) to make the league good, but I disagree with all the American sports writers who say that soccer will never be big in America. It's too big around the world never to catch on. Plus its such an amazing sport, and every little boy and girl in America plays it.

And finally, I've learned that I really like the sport. A lot of people said I would get tired of it, that after three straight weeks of soccer that I wouldn't want to watch it any more. But that really hasn't been the case at all. In fact, I find myself more invested in following the sport than when I started, knowing more about the players, teams, and world of the sport than I could have fathomed two months ago. I'm truly a fan of the sport (and a few choice teams and players), and that's something that I think will stay with me.

Last Time I Saw the Sky That Color...

You know how some things are just bad omens? Some times mother nature tells you to leave. Bad things happen when you don't.

When I was really little, probably in the 8-10 range, my parents decided to take the whole family to a Jimmy Buffett concert. I don't really remember much of it (some of that might have to do with the atmosphere there), but I do know that a really bad storm rolled through and the sky turned a really weird orange color right before all hell broke loose. We were trapped under the stands for a long time, and I don't think Jimmy got to play too many songs.

Last night the sky over Vienna was that same orange color. It happened at about 8:40, five minutes before kickoff. I knew I probably shouldn't stick around, but I haven't been rational in a few days - mostly because I don't get much sleep here.

With two games left in the tournament, I was adamant that I wasn't going to miss any more games like I missed the Germany one, so I figured that I'd just wait it out in hopes that the storm would blow over like all the other Vienna storms had, and I could get on my merry way watching football.

That never happened. Instead, lightning started crashing down and the skies just opened up and what seemed to be the end of the world occurred. There were bits of hail and stuff was blowing everywhere.

But lucky me. I had a poncho. And a recently-purchased baseball cap.

As stubborn as I could be, I was determined not to miss this game like I had the previous nights, so I toughed it out. I wasn't alone either, which greatly surprised me. There were hundreds of other fans in the Fan Zone alongside me, getting soaked and wind-beaten and generally destroyed by this crazy storm. For some reason I felt less crazy because of that, when really these are football fans we're talking about - the craziest of the crazy.

And right as the final whistle blew, the rain started to let up. Because that's how things like that work. But I didn't have any problem sleeping last night.

Now my only pair of shorts are soaking wet (as is a t-shirt, but that's of less importance), which is kind of a problem, but I can wear gym shorts about town while I wait for them to dry.

It would have been great for my project, from multiple angles, if Russian had won the tournament. Even if they got to the finals it would have been good, seeing as there's incredible historical irony in Russians and Germans battling it out in Austria. Plus the most EU-ified country vs. the total outsider, that would have been pretty good too. Plus, only one Russian player plays in one of the continent's big five leagues. Plus they beat Holland, and secretly it would have been vindication if they had eventually won it. But, alas, my historical nerd's dream of such a final is not to come to fruition, and why should it? I only braved the most terrible storm in the history of Vienna, risking my life and limb, (okay, that might be exaggeration) to see it.

How I Missed a Whole Game

I'm sure it was a spectacular game. That's what all the news reports said. I tried to watch, I really did. It wasn't like I was doing anything else at the time. But it just seemed like fate was stacked against me for watching this game.

Despite attempting for the full two hours to watch the game, I missed all five goals and the end of the match. Let me explain.

I showed up to the fan zone about two hours before kickoff and did my normal "go around and talk to people" routine, which yielded fine results. About 15 minutes before kickoff I took a seat in the giant field where they air the game, ready for what I was sure would be an exciting match. It was at this point that I noticed the awfully dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but I figured they would be plenty of time before anything materialized.

At kickoff, I looked back and noticed that the dark clouds were now pretty much right on top of me. Determined to see the game, I held my ground as people started making for the exit. It was at this point that a warning announcement came over the loudspeaker noting that a storm was approaching and that it was expected to hail. We were asked to make for the exit. This was around 20 minutes.

It took me 10 minutes to get to the closest pub. Anybody who was watching the game knows that in this 10 minutes, Boral scored for Turkey and Schweinsteiger equalized for Germany, meaning I had missed two goals walking from the game to the game. That made me unhappy.

As I rolled into the pub through the rain, and was filled in on the goals, which isn't the same as seeing them at all, I took a seat by one of the pub's many TVs. No hail would get me now, and I could watch the rest of the game in warmth, dryness, and peace. I watched as the first half came to a close, and the pub changed the channel during halftime, so I missed the half's highlights.

The second half started out relatively slow, and I watched as it trudged along. It started picking up again at about 70 minutes, and then at 75 minutes, the unthinkable happened. The TV cut out. Due to the bad weather, the Pub's satellite signal gave out, and they assured us that it would be back on soon. Soon wasn't soon enough as when the game cut back on, Germany was leading and I had missed the game's third goal.

At this point I was starting to get unhappy. This is the first game I'd really missed any of this whole tournament, and to miss this one (which actually has goals) just really isn't cool. So I sat in silence secretly hoping Germany or Turkey would score again if for no other reason than I would get to see another goal.

Then the screen cut back off. People started yelling and jeering, and I just stared in disbelief. Obscenities were flying at the bar manager and I just backed into the corner.

When the screen cut back on, the game was over and Germany was sitting on the pitch celebrating and Lukas Podolski was jumping into the crowd taking people's paraphernalia. They had scored two more goals, and fended off a late-minute Turkey offensive. It was at this point that the bar manager, realizing I had finished my drink, asked me if I wanted anything else. I said I just wanted to watch the highlights, and then I would be gone. He told me if I wanted to do that I'd have to buy another drink. Disgruntled, telling the bar manager that he should be buying the whole pub drinks, I picked up my hat, headed out into the rain, and wandered back to my hostel. I still haven't seen the goals.

Hopefully, the same won't happen tonight, and if it does, I might just fly back to the states so I can watch the game in peace.

Viva Espana!

I'm allergic to Vienna. I'm not quite sure what it is, but I've been sneezing all the time and I've had a runny nose that I have to blow like, every 5 minutes. Throw on top of that the fact that it's really hot and I'm starting to feel pretty physically feeble here. Plus, I haven't gone running since I got here, which makes me feel lazy and unhealthy.

So I know I said I probably wasn't going to any more games, but the deal was too good to pass up. The guy was offering them for less than face value, and they were better seats than the last game. It's pretty hard to turn that down. I think it would have been a cool project to look at the economics of ticket scalping, because it's probably one of the best models of free market economics. Plus all the characters are really interesting and odd.

So I sat in the Spanish section for their game against world champions Italy, which everybody was expecting to be a great game. I didn't know I would be in the Spanish section until I sat down (actually, until everybody else sat down), when I noticed that everything around me had a red and yellow coating to it. I didn't have any Spanish regalia, so I felt a little funny wearing gray in the midst of all these Spanish men. They didn't seem to mind, though. They didn't really notice me.

While I'm not particularly partial to either team, I was probably more excited to be in the Spanish section, as I could do a minimum amount of communication (good for the project, and my Spanish) and understand the cheers. The Spanish national anthem doesn't have any words, but the Spanish still sing along anyway, which I found entertaining.

The game wasn't sold out (well, it sold out, but there were open seats) because apparently "the quarter finals come too quick," and people can't make travel arrangements to get to Vienna. I thought that was weird, because the Turkey-Croatia game was packed, and I figured that Spain and Italy would attract much larger crowds. But they didn't, which means I got my tickets for cheap, which was fine by me. I was at the other end of the stadium from last time, which was cool because I got a different perspective.

The game was good, and went into extra time like the Croatia match. Unfortunately, there were no goals, which was kind of a bummer, but it did go to penalties, which makes everything very exciting very quickly. Again last night the penalties were at my end of the field, which makes everything better.

There are only three games left, which blows my mind. I've watched more than 30 games in the past half-month, which is a pretty jam-packed schedule. It tends to wear on one, and it's nice to have a few days off before the semi finals. I'm preparing myself for thousands of screaming Russians and Spaniards to descend on Vienna in the next few days.

Go Big or Go Home

You come halfway around the world to watch football, you have to go to at least one game.

I'm in Vienna for the second half of the tournament - the elimination rounds - and its a very different experience from being in Switzerland. The major difference is that it's hot. Like, really hot. Like, North Carolina hot. After two summers where I haven't had NC hot, it's kind of nice to experience it again. But its also kind of bad, because I have limited clothes and sweat a lot, which might make for a stinky Kevin. Also, the city is much bigger than the Swiss ones, and a lot more...cityish. There are a lot of big buildings and cars, and not much pretty greenery like in Switzerland. Also, the city doesn't seem as football-crazy, but that might just be because its so big and spread-out that the football madness isn't concentrated anywhere.

But back to the point of the post.

So, with stipend money running low, I decided to do the only thing that made reasonable sense. Blow quite a bit of it and actually go to a football game.

As I was taking the train from Zurich to Vienna, I sat with two Irish guys who were following the tounrament and going to the games. They said they had been able to procure tickets to four games so far at little more than face value. I was inspired. I figured I'm probably only following the Euro Cup once, so I might as well indluge and go to a game.

I figured this game would be my best chance. Turkey and Croatia were playing in Vienna, which is the biggest stadium in the tournament. There probably weren't going to be too many looking for tickets, as those countries are quite far away and relatively small. So I waited around outside the stadium until a little while before kickoff, paid a good chunk of change (but not as big as I was expecting) and went it.

Of all the crazy, unlikely, impossible things to happen at this game, as I was in my seat waiting for the game to start, none other than Alex Lim, a fellow UNC student and Morehead Scholar, rolls up into the seat right behind me. Mind you, this is a 51,428 person stadium, and here are two people who know each other sitting behind one another completely randomly.

The game was awesome. We were sitting in the Croatia, and despite being way in the back, still had a good view of the pitch. Croatia pretty much dominated the game, and should have had two or three goals, but seemed to have really bad luck. Turkey took maybe two shots the entire game, and it looked as if it would be Croatia going to the semi finals. But they couldn't find the back of the net.

After 90 minutes the score was still 0-0, so they went into extra time (which was great, because that means more football for my money). With two minutes to go in extra time, Croatia scored, and it seemed like the game winner. The section was going wild singing the one Croatian football song there is (as I clapped along because I don't know a word of Croatian). But then out of nowhere Turkey scored with what was proably less than two minutes left. The Turkey fans and players went wild and the Croatian players just lied down on the field.

At this point, everybody was going crazy.

So the game goes to PKs, and the fans are going crazy. Croatia took the first shot and went just wide, and all the Croats sat down hanging their heads. They would make the enxt and then miss again and have the fourth blocked. At that point, it was all over, and the Turkish crowd errupted in jubilation.

Tonight Holland plays Russia in Basel, and then Sunday Spain plays Italy. The more I watch the more exciting it becomes, and the atmosphere is just infectious. And while I probably don't have the funds to go to any more games, I will be having fun watching on giant TVs.

My Night as a Football Hooligan

(Just so there’s no confusion, The Netherlands is also called Holland, and the people are Dutch. This has confused some people in the past, so I thought I'd clear that up in the beginning.)

All the other travelers I talk to about this project think I just travel around watching football games on somebody else's dime. That's really not the case at all. I spend most of my time interviewing fans and conducting other interviews outside of football. Earlier in the trip I even spent time in libraries. I've missed key goals because I was taking notes on something else, so this trip isn't all fun and games. I mean, there's a lot of fun and a lot of games, but it's not solely that.

Following football objectively for months has been an interesting experience, but it leaves a lot to the imagination. Nobody here is objective in their watching of a football game. An interesting thing I’ve learned about European football reporters is that a lot of them are fans first and foremost, which is very different from the American “no-emotion” kind of sports reporting. But wading through the fan zones with a gray or brown shirt has tended to make me stand out more than wearing some team’s color, and when I say I’m not really supporting anybody I tend to catch flak.

It’s not possible to be unaffiliated in Europe when it comes to football. It’s not possible to be disinterested, either. A German man I talked to the other day probably put it best when he said, “When a major tournament happens like this or the World Cup, the world just stops. Football is on, and everything else can wait. Stores won’t be open, people won’t go to work. Sometimes they won’t even be in their own country like the Dutch, who have all gone to Bern for three weeks. They just pick up and leave. No, football is everything here, and everything else can wait until it is over.”

I thought to get the full picture I needed to be a fan, if only for a night. I needed to get into the mix and get beer spilled on me when goals were scored. I needed to learn fan songs and chants and sing them when my country scored goals. I needed a jersey and to throw things and cheer and boo.

To do that, I needed to pick a team. I’ve always been a USA fan when it comes to football, and I’m not going to shed the red, white and, blue, despite how fun it is to watch the Europeans. But seeing as how this is a European contest, I needed to pick a European team. I’ve never been a fan of the big teams like France and Italy, but I wanted to cheer for a team that would be fun to cheer for and one that I already felt some emotion for. Seeing as I watched the first few games in Bern, which had been completely invaded by the Dutch, I already felt some pull toward them. They are looking like one of the strongest teams in the tournament, which doesn’t hurt either.

So last night I donned a bright orange Netherlands jersey and a free orange wig I came across in Bern and made my way to the Fan Zone that was already bustling at 4:00.

In all fairness, I picked the easiest night to be Dutch. They’re not a very hated team to start with, as they have a reputation for being an entertaining team that’s always good, but rarely threatens when it comes to the knock-out stages. On top of that France and Italy, who were playing in Zurich at the same time as the Netherlands-Romania game both needed the Netherlands to beat Romania in order to advance. So wading through the fan zone I caught numerous people coming up to me and in broken English telling me that I need to win tonight. I told them, not sounding Dutch at all, that I would do my best. A lot of people told me not to throw the game, because Netherlands, who were already assured of a spot in the next round, would probably benefit from seeing both Italy and France out of the tournament (though I had to keep reminding people that we’ve already thrashed both, and wouldn’t be afraid to meet them again.) So while France and Italy were cheering against each other, they were both cheering for the Netherlands, and Romania seemed completely absent.

People love the Dutch. Unlike the English and German fans, which disaster, violence and arrests seem to follow wherever they travel, the Dutch are celebrated with open arms. The headline on Bern’s paper today reads “Dank u wel, Oranje!” and there were no arrests in Bern despite an estimated 80,000 Dutch pilgrimaging to the city for their three games. Contrast that with the almost 200 that were arrested in Klagenfurt for Germany’s first game against Poland for making Nazi salutes.

The Zurich crowd was mostly composed of Italians and French (and other nationalities that are already eliminated like the Swiss, pretending to be one of the others). I even came across a group of English 20-somethings who were cheering for Italy. One of the highlights of the night was coming across two groups of Glaswegians, one of Celtic fans and one of Rangers fans, who were cheering together for Italy and making snide comments at each other. It’s nice to see different parts of this project overlapping in the weirdest ways.

Discarding both journalistic and research ethics, I fabricated a back story to melt into the Dutch crowd, seeing as I speak no more Dutch than “Ik ben een Amerikaanse journalist. Spreek u Engels?” (I am an American journalist. Do you speak English), and that clearly wasn’t going to earn me respect with the Dutch crowd. The easiest was I conspired to do this was to say that I had Dutch family (which isn’t true at all, I’m Irish and Italian, but Ireland isn’t playing and I can’t pass for Italian to save my life, nor did I really want to cheer for them). Ultimately the Dutch didn’t mind having an American in their midst, which was nice for me, and they occasionally broke into English to talk to me, which was nice. A few of the “Dutch” were actually Finnish and English who had gone to school in Holland, so I spent most of the game with them.

Since the games were on at the same time, they had to cut back and forth between them when something interesting was happening. Since we were in Zurich, the giant fan zone screen showed predominantly the Italy-France game, which was probably the more important game anyway. I didn’t miss either of the Netherlands goals, which the screen cut to in time. When the Dutch scored, everybody, Italians, Dutch, Swiss, and French, cheered, and the small little Dutch contingent got to lead the crowd in a rousing chorus of “Holland! Holland!”

By the end of the Italy-France game, which saw a French player get sent off early and two Italy goals, most of the French fans had melted out of the fan zone, and the Italians began to celebrate. They quickly accepted us Dutch into their celebratory singing and partying, with rousing choruses of “Holland! Holland!” mixed into their Italian chants of “Campioni del Mundo” and others. People sang and danced in the fan zone or headed into town to celebrate. Wandering through the Zürich streets during the night I saw both beer and fans spilling out of bars, and the air was filled with the sweet sound of drunken Italian (and a little Dutch) singing. The Dutch enclave headed for a few town bars that were more than happy to be overwhelmed by Orange-clad Hollanders. In the euphoria of the night I even managed to snag a few free drinks, which makes everything better, and also makes Kevin more apt to sing and dance when songs start up.

There is one more night to the group stages, where Russia will play Sweden and Greece will play Spain. Then the tournament moves on to the quarter final stages and I move on to Vienna, where four of the next seven games will be played. The Netherlands will play their quarter final match on Saturday in Basel, and while I won’t be there, I’ll probably be wearing orange and pretending that my family is from Rotterdam while I watch it on the giant screen in Vienna.

Wanderweg

Sorry, research project, I got distracted by the Swiss Alps.

In Zurich, there is no free internet. I've been spending hours trying to find a library, bookstore, coffee shop, or something that will let me get online for free. So far, nothing has been fruitful. Even my hostel charges for internet, which is a pain. I'm morally opposed to paying for wireless internet access, and I'm sure there is somewhere in this city where I can get online for free, I just haven't found it yet. I've gotten all of your emails, and I apologize for not responding to them, I just haven't been able to. The best I've been able to find in McDonald's, which lets you online for 30 minutes during the day for free, so I will do my best to update the blog in that short time. Plus, I haven't been able to find a place to put more money on my phone, so sorry mom and dad for not getting in touch with you, but I will when I can. You can read the blog as a substitute for talking to me.

Wanderweg means "walking trail" in German, which has nothing to do with soccer, but everything to do with fun and adventure. Allow me to explain.

So when I was planning this trip and booking rooms, I came across a two-day period where there were just no rooms in the big cities in Switzerland, which is where I was hoping to be. I emailed around and still had no luck. So finally I decided that I would either go to Italy for a few days, since they were playing a big match on one of those days (probably the reason I couldn't get a room), or I would go to a small-town Swiss Alps village and spend a few days hiking. It didn't take much persuading from my parents and girlfriend that the latter was probably the more fun option. I could even make it project-related by talking to people there about what I'm doing (okay, that's probably a stretch, but I got a few notes from it). Besides, I would have wasted most of my time just trying to get to and from Italy, and that's not a good use of time or energy.

So Wednesday afternoon I booked a room in Grindelwald (no relation to the dark wizard that Dumbledore is famous for defeating), a small town in the heart of the Jungfrau region of Switzerland. That's in the middle of the country. It's named that Jungfrau region because it's dominated by Jungfrau, one of the Alps' tallest mountains. In the winter the town turns into a massive ski resort. In the summer, it's kind of a dead one-horse town except for lost souls like myself looking for some good hiking trails. The hillsides are dominated by abandoned ski lifts and clear cut mountainsides that look like they would be fun to ski if there was only snow.

The night before I left I was playing cards and watching soccer with other random travelers when into my life walks Sally, a Clemson student with one semester left who had just finished studying abroad in Spain and is taking some time to wander Europe. Sally had no idea where she was heading the next day, and when I said I was going to the Alps she thought that sounded fun and decided to accompany me to the wilds of Grindelwald. While I'm sure that some solo hiking would probably have been meditative and good soul-searching, I don't think that's what I was after. After more than a month of solo travel, it is nice to have someone tag along and to talk to. Its probably safer, too, given that I was planning on hiking mountains, which is probably something you shouldn't do by yourself.

So Thursday morning we took a train from Zurich to Bern (yay, back in Bern for the third time) and then from Bern to Interlaken, which is the backpacking and extreme sports capital of Europe, apparently. It's big for bungee jumping and ski diving, which I can imagine would be pretty cool in the Swiss alps. Interlaken is a weird place, though. It's gorgeous, as it is set in an Alpine valley between two lakes, but the people in Interlaked were a weird crowd, which is probably an explanation that deserves to be told in person, not via the web. Looking around the train station it seemed as if every group of people that had given up on life gathered in Interlaken. We trekked around the city for a few hours before catching a train up into the mountains to Grindelwald.

As the train wound its way up, the mountains just kept getting bigger. Out the window we could see glaciers and waterfalls and swiftly flowing mountain rivers. I don't think I've ever been so overwhelmed by a landscape before. Every direction from the center of Grindelwald is up. And really far up. I'll try to put some pictures on here, but pictures never do landscapes like these justice.

The hostel in Grindelwald was amazing, mostly because the views out the windows of the room and the kitchen were incredible. Plus, there was only one other person in the room besides Sally and I, which definitely made for better sleeping.



Day one of hiking tried to take us up the hardest trail of Eiger (because honestly, how can you go and take the easy route), but our Australian hostel manager informed us that the Eiger trail was closed due to the risk of falling rocks. I agreed with him that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to head that way. So we took the second best route up the same mountain. It took us winding up through cattle and goat pastures and up beyond the tree line and into snow. We ate lunch about halfway up, and the meal might have been one of the best all trip. You see, in Europe they don't really do breakfast. You might have toast and jam, or cereal and yogurt, but you never come across eggs or bacon or hash browns, or any of the things that make breakfast good. But I came across them in Alpiglen. After a huge pile of hash browns, fried eggs and ham, and paying way too much (it probably wasn't worth it, because it was really expensive, but it was really good), we headed back out into the cold and trails. By the time we reached the highest point we were being bombarded by sleet, and I was regretting the decision to wear shorts. But the views were incredible, and the sense of accomplishment of reaching 2,061 meters was quite a rush. Being quite tired and cold, and seeing that the sun was going down, we made our way to the train to take that down.

The next morning I thought I'd have to make my way to the train station, but I was talked into pushing that back and squeezing in one more day of hiking, because honestly, how often are you in the Swiss Alps.

Day two of hiking began by going the wrong direction (honestly, would anything else have fit this trip?), which ran Sally and I into Ian, a recent graduate of Indiana University who is trekking Europe for three months by himself, and was trying to find the trail from Grindelwald to First, the same path were were searching for. First is on the other side of Grindelwald from the mountains we hiked the day before, and provided an incredible opportunity to see these massive mountains from a new perspective. Glad to have company we made out for First together, which was a much steeper climb, though it might have only seemed that was after a day of hiking (As I sit here typing this, I can't help but feel a twinge in muscles I have forgotten about over the years). As we neared the top and began getting hungry and grumpy, we noticed a small trail/staircase that broke off from the main trail. Thinking that it would cut down on our time until lunch and make for a cooler story, we took the road less traveled. We were at First probably half an hour quicker than if we had taken the long road.


After a lunch that was again too expensive, Ian parted ways with Sally and I and made his way to an alpine lake. We bid our fond farewells and headed in different directions, Sally and I off along a ridge taking us back to the valley's other side. I wish I could have gone to the lake, but I didn't feel like I had time, seeing as how I had to get to Zurich that night, since I had already booked my room there. The trip to Grosse Scheidegg (our final destination) was fraught with snow crossings, a sleet storm, and increasingly cold weather. It also produced some of the coolest views, and an inescapable opportunity to slide down a giant pile of snow, which was both exhilarating and very wet and cold.


From Grosse Scheidegg, we caught a bus down the mountain back to Grindelwald because I needed to get back to Zurich, eventually.

Realizing that it was getting late and that trains would soon stop running, I parted ways with Sally who decided to stay one more night in the mountains to make me jealous, and made my way back to the Grindelwald station where I ran into, out of all people, Ian, who was staying in Interlaken and also needed to get to his bed. We waited for the train and rode that down together. We got to Interlaken just in time for me to catch the train to Bern, and go there just in time to catch the train to Zurich. I rolled into Zurich around 11 p.m., where I promptly rolled into bed.

Soccer Craziness

I should call it football, because it's football, not soccer, but I figure that people reading this might be confused. I get razzed when I say soccer, so I apologize if I lapse into calling it football in this entry.

I know I haven't updated this blog in a while, but I have been highly distracted by soccer. Because of the tournament, I haven't been able to stay in the same place for very long, so as a result I was in Basel, then Bren, then back to Basel, then back to Bern, then back to Basel, then to Zurich. I haven't had much time on the internet either, so most of that has been spent figuring out where I'll be sleeping the next night. Needless to say, it has been a crazy few days, but I'm in a relaxing period now, so I thought I'd update.

I've watched 12 soccer games already, which blows my mind.

Soccer fans are crazy. Sometimes it's like a good crazy, like taking three weeks off of work, traveling several countries away, and spending three days before a match cheering with other fans, even when you don't have a ticket. Other times its not such a nice crazy, like when they get mad at Americans for being in the FanZone because we're not allowed to cheer for another country, never mind the fact that I was neither cheering, nor wearing Holland orange.

But the energy here is just unimaginable. I don't know how they care so much (I feel like a lot of it has to do with the alcohol that flows, literally, from the street fountains). I don't think you would ever see an American take off work for literally a month to go watch a sport when he doesn't even have a ticket. But it really is a good excuse to travel and see Europe for those people who never have in their lives. I think more people are coming to this one since Switzerland and Austria are so central on the continent. I've met people from every country that's playing and even some who aren't.

The major cities set up fan zones, with giant (like, several meters wide) televisions that broadcast the games for everybody who wants to come. The best part, of course, is that its free, but its also good because it's easy to find everybody I want to talk to, and they are often inebriated enough to open up to me.

I really like the fans, they're a different breed than other people. They come from all walks of life but become one giant, indistinguishable blob of their countries' colors when they show up here. I've seen more face and body paint then a whole season in UNC's risers. Watching the games with actual fans has been somewhat overwhelming, though. I try to go wearing neutral colors so nobody will bother with me. That has almost proved more difficult with people asking me (in other langauges) who I'm cheering for any why I'm there. I often say I'm cheering for the USA and they laugh and walk away. There's no real concern for personal space, and fights between opposing camps have been known to break out. The fan zones have often been so packed that they stopped letting people in. In Bern I got closed out of it after trying to get some food. In Zurich I had a place by the water and kept thinking I was going to be pushed in.

One plus of this project is that I've learned how to say, "Excuse me. I am an American journalist. do you speak English," in multiple languages, and that makes me feel like I'm learning things and other cultures. The problem is that if they say no then I don't know what to do. Often times they will keep saying things in their language, which is really difficult. I think I've gotten pretty good at the "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're saying, I'm just an American tourist" face. I'm a little disappointed that none of British teams qualified, since I would have had more people to talk to, but oh, well.

I even got a German phrase book because my brother never filled me in on important phrases. I didn't even know how to say bathroom when I got here, which is a word I think you should know in every language. Good thing there's that international symbol of a guy just standing there to indicate where I need to go. But I figured if I'm spending two months in German-speaking countries, then I should cave and learn some German. I've gotten pretty good at "Ich spreche Deutsch nicht" (I don't speak German). Other than that though, I'm pretty much lost. I can't understand other people at all, but then again I'm not really trying.

One of the highlights of my trip's ad-lib nature is that my roommate a few nights ago was a Mexican journalist. I talked to him for a while about his job and football and globalization of football and all sorts of jazz that was both interesting and informative. I think that would be a sweet job, following your national team. You'd get to go to all sorts of cool places and talk to interesting people and, of course, watch football all the time.

I'm off for an adventurous day today that's somewhat unrelated to soccer (and when I say unrelated, I mean completely unrelated), but I'll fill you all in on it next time.

Hopp Schwiiz!

Welcome to a straight month of football. I'll be spending the next four weeks of my life watching more soccer, and hopefully by the end I won't be terribly sick of it. I doubt that will happen, though. There are 24 opening round games, four quarter finals, two semi finals, and a final. That's 31 games. That's 46.5 hours of nothing but football. That's not even counting half time, pre-game and post-game coverage. I'm going to be a busy man. And this is going to be a lot of fun.

I rolled into the first host country, Switzerland, Friday after a day of train riding. I can now hold my head high and say I've been to Luxembourg, which I doubt many can say. Disregard the fact that I only spent an hour there in between two trains; it's Luxembourg, do you need more than an hour? Anyway, I got in around 7 p.m., and proceeded to get lost finding my hostel just like at every other city. Once I found that, I scoped out the rest of the city and checked out how they had prepared for this extravagant tournament. Their streets are covered in Euro garb, and there's an electricity in the air. It's going to be an exciting place to watch games, that's for sure.

So by poor planning and a lack of rooms, I didn't actually get to spend the evening in Basel, where the tournament was set to kick off. Instead, I had to catch a train to Bern where I would be catching the game. But no fear, in all the host cities they have giant "Fan Zones," where all those of us without tickets can congregate. And there are a lot of fans, most without tickets. I'm amazed that people just give up work for a month to hang out in a foreign town and spend money like there's no tomorrow. I guess Switzerland and Austria must love it.

The wonderful thing about Bern is that the Netherlands (or Holland, I'm not really sure how that works (and on that notew, why do we call them the Dutch?)) play all three of their opening round games here, meaning that thousands of Dutchmen (some with tickets, many without) have descended on this tiny mountain town all decked out in their obnoxiously orange jerseys. I say this is a good thing because, in my experience, the Dutch are incredibly friendly and fun, which should make Bern an interesting place to watch a match.

So for the opening match, everybody was nuts for Switzerland, because, after all, I am in Switzerland. It was almost impossible to find somewhere to stand and watch the match in the Fan Zone. It was sad that Switzerland lost, because it would have been exciting to see the kind of revelry that happens - but I'm sure that will come as the tournament progresses and I make my way to Vienna.

I did get to see the Portuguese fans go nuts when they beat Turkey in their opening game. Why there were tons of Portuguese in Bern, Switzerland, I'll have no idea, but they love their team. I think women in Portugal must love guys with mullets. That's the only reason I can conjure why every Portuguese man between 18 and 30 had the same business in the front, party in the back cut in the image of their country's new national icon, Cristiano Ronaldo. It was like some weird Portuguese version of that "My new haircut" video where all the guys look the same.

I don't know if anybody has ever been to something like this before, but the atmosphere is incredible. The town has been completely consumed by Euro 2008, and store windows of every shop carry some sort of football or Switzerland paraphernalia. The streets are lined with Euro 2008 flags, and booths have been set up everywhere hawking European football goods like jerseys, face paint, noise makers, and anything else under the sun with team colors on it.

Bern is one of my favorite stops so far, and I wish I was spending more than 24 hours here. It's tiny, and exactly what I think of when I think of Switzerland. It's set up on a hill and surrounded on three sides by a river. Its streets are cobblestone and the buildings are not modern at all. The entire city was named a UNESCO world heritage site in the 80s.

Now it is back to Basel where I'll be sleeping for two nights, but I will be coming back here to Bern to watch Holland play Italy, which I'm excited about. Tonight's match between Germany and Poland should be an interesting one. There's a lot of noise about ill feelings from Poland towards Germany (I wonder why) that could manifest at the game. I wish I could go, but it doesn't seem feasible to get to Klagenfurt for that. Then again, I'm running around like a madman for the next few weeks anyways, so I might eventually make it there.

I haven't quite picked who I'm rooting for, but I'm sure it's not Portugal. I like the Czech Republic, and I like Croatia, and I think it would be fun to go to Germany right after they won. I think if I hang around with the Dutch much more, I'm going to fall for that team. Plus, who wouldn't want one of their electric orange jerseys. Or at least a hat.

Brussels, in Total

So, being that I haven't had internet access readily available here in Brussels, I've had to limit my posting. But as I end my time here, I decided to take some time to sit down in the local McDonalds to catch everybody up on what I've been doing here.

Bureaucracy, or Eurocracy, as they call it
The reason I came to Brussels was to check out the European Commission Central Library and look at European policy in relation to sports. So I spent some time digging through volumes and volumes of memos, advisory reports, and policy briefs. It was all really interesting, and it is cool to see how other countries political systems work. It was kind of nice to be back in the library setting, though I think it's weird coming a quarter of the way around the world just to sit in a library, and I think I got more out of my time in England and Scotland.
It took me forever to get access to this library. Honestly it wasn't even completely ironed out before I left for Britain (sorry, Foundation), but after three or four months of emails it all worked out. I had to talk to five or six different people, all to be told that I just had to being my passport and sign up for a day to visit the library. It was kind of cool getting a special pass to the library. It made me feel like I was conducting some cool research. Which I guess I am.
There are some really interesting papers that I'm sure would help me a lot, but they're in French or German, so they're just not usable. That's unfortunate, but whatever, I have enough EU literature to last the rest of my train rides, and a list of sports policy books to pick up if I want to (which, I honestly might).
Getting into the library was another even all together. I had to go through two security checkpoints, both of which searched my bag and patted me down. The funny thing, though, is that they didn't search me on the way out. I guess they're not too worried about people stealing their random papers.
After experiencing it firsthand and digging through their work, my overall opinion about the European Union is that it creates a lot of jobs that don't seem to do anything. There are a lot of policy memos, but they never actually do anything. They're really good at pointing out problems and advising others on how to figure them out. I guess that's what happens when you have so many countries, each with their own issues and cultures and languages, trying to work together.
On this note as well, the European Union buildings are hideous. It looks like they were trying to go for a modern thing, but they just look like weird blue-green buildings. Plus, they're not in the nicest part of Brussels, which makes them stand out in their ugliness even more as they tower over tiny, run-down buildings.

Antwerp
The truth about Brussels is that there's maybe a day worth of stuff to do here, so by day four I was getting a little stir crazy, especially as I had seen most beds in my hostel turn over two or three times already. Lucky for me, I had to go somewhere else to do research.
On Tuesday I journeyed up to Antwerp, a city in the north of Belgium. The reason I traveled up there was to meet with a sports economist who I spent a few hours with talking about competitive inequality and why Belgian teams will never be good at football (not just the national team, but their club teams, too). It was a good time.
Antwerp is a really cool city. It's not as big and busy as Brussels, and it's right on the Rhine river, which makes for some cool scenery. It has a giant square with a really cool statue and some nifty architecture. When I download the pictures you can all see how cool it is. The University of Antwerp, where I met professor Kesenne is also really pretty. It's this tiny Gothic compound in the middle of the city and has an awesome little park in the middle. I don't think I'd ever want to go there (mainly because the people speak Flemmish, which I don't actually believe is a language). They do have a pretty rocking sports economics program, if that's what you're into (though maybe that's what I'm into, still not quite sure)

Bruges
The next day, instead of hanging around Brussels for another day (which would have been really hard), I decided to take a train up to Bruges for the day. Bruges is a quaint little city that hasn't really developed since the 14th century, and, consequentially, it is the most visited city in Belgium, and an insane amount of tourists go there annually, which is great because everybody speaks English. It has canals and old renaissance and Gothic architecture, and people call it the "Venice of the North." It has a belfry that towers over the rest of the city, which you have to climb more than 350 stairs to get to the top of. It was a really cool view and definitely worth the climb. One thing that Bruges is really known for is its fry cartes, which tend to pop up around every turn. Belgian fries ("frites") aren't really any different from American French Fries, except that the Belgians are a little more liberal with what you can put on them. I had mine with samurai sauce (a spicy, asian food-esque sauce) and soufleesauce (a meat-based sauce that was way better than it sounds).
Some of the highlights of things to see in Bruges: One church has what it claims to be Jesus' blood; another has one of the only Michaelangelo statues outside of Italy; windmills; canals; and lots of cheap pancakes and fries.
One of my favorite things takes a little looking around to figure out. So, horse-drawn carriages are huge in Bruges, obviously since it's a big tourist place. But there was never any horse poop in the street. Bruge has an awesome solution for that. The horses have bags attached to their rear ends so they poop right into them. I thought my dad would appreciate that.
The pace of life in Bruge is also really slow. While the weather wasn't particularly nice, it was a really relaxing day of just kind of ambling around and taking it easy. Good thinking time.

Other Tourists
People only stay in Brussels for a night or two, so at seven nights I've become a kind of long-term resident, so I've noticed some similarities about the other people coming though. Brussels is kind of the stop-over place from Britain to Amsterdam, so everybody coming through here is either on their way or just coming from the biggest party place in the world, so I've gotten to hear all sorts of crazy stories. (My favorite being the guys from Virginia who took mushrooms and wandered through the Van Gogh museum, which is open late on the weekends for that exact purpose). But all they want to do is get out and party, which has made them quite interesting.
Almost everybody staying in my hostel is from America or Japan, oddly. A couple days ago a few Glaswegians (from Glasgow) came through, so I had fun relating to them. Also, a lot of other people are on their way to Switzerland and Austria just like me, which is just getting me more excited about that.
Most people are traveling in pairs or groups, too, which I think is a good cool. While it's nice to have some independent time, it is always nice to have someone to talk to as you're wandering around the city - especially when you're lost and in not the nicest area.

I didn't hate Brussels, though it may sound as if I did. Its just a weird place. It had weird architecture, weird people, weird languages, etc. Its the kind of place I find myself making snide comments about, but I've had a good time while I've been here, especially during the nights. I like that it's home to the Smurfs (though I'm unfortunately missing Smurf-fest tomorrow). It has amazing food, especially the waffles and fries. It has also provided some much-needed down time as I get ready for the real crazy part of this trip.
I also didn't hate Glasgow - it was probably my favorite stop so far. Apparently it sounded as if i did, which is just not true. Galswegians, along with traveling Australians, have been my favorite people. Canadians come in a close third.

So the next few days are going to be a little hectic, and I'll be in like, 6 different cities in the next 2 weeks, some of them twice. I'm also getting ready to watch a lot of soccer and talk to a lot of people about soccer, which I'm excited about. I've been told there's a lot of energy in the air already, so it's going to be a crazy few days coming up. I don't know how often I can update this thing, but I will try to do my best.

Twenty Days Is a Long Time

Today marks the twentieth day I've been on this trip, and that blows my mind. It has gone really quickly. It's also the first day of June, which is also pretty crazy. I don't think I really contemplated how long this trip was going to be, but it's long. I don't know how I'm going to fill all of these days.

So how does one celebrate day 20? By doing laundry of course. After a run around the city (I didn't get lost!) I devoted a few hours to doing laundry. It was glorious, and I'm much happier as a result. I pretty much pushed it as far as I could. But now I have a refreshed wardrobe and I'm ready to take on the rest of this continent.

For anybody contemplating a trip like this: bring good socks, and lots of them. I brought good socks, but I thought I would be wearing sandals and flip-flops more than I have. But with the amount of walking I've had to do, it's been difficult not to wear shoes. And I didn't quite bring enough socks. I had to invest in more, which aren't great socks. Apparently they don't sell good socks in Brussels.

Unfortunately, while I was taking my jeans out of the dryer, I notice that they're developing a hole in the crotch. I'm hoping I get to warmer climates where I don't have to wear jeans soon, or I might suffer an embarrassingly tragic event. I also want those climates to I can wear flip-flops and sandals instead of socks and shoes.

O' Brave New World That Hath Such People In't

Greetings from the capital of the European Union and NATO, the bilingual Belgian capital Brussels. And what a strange place this is. It's not very pretty and very gray. The EU buildings are some of the most hideous I've seen in a long time. There's graffiti. All the road signs are in two different languages, and roads here are only slightly less sporadic than in London. But people like it here. The locals think it's the greatest city. One guy had lived in London, Paris, Sierra Leone, and Vancouver, and decided that he wanted to make Brussels his home because he liked it best. I'm starting to fear staying here too long and decide to stay (which, honestly, I don't see happening).

The hostel owner was amazed that I was staying for six nights (most people stay one or two). She wondered what I was going to do for six days. I'm starting to wonder that too.

When I was planning this trip, I considered how long I wanted to stay in each place to get the feel of what I'm looking for, but I forgot to take into account weekends and holidays, which might prove a problem, especially here in Brussels. See, the European Commission Library, which is mostly what I'm here for, obviously isn't open on the weekends, and the meetings I lined up both fall on week days. So six days quickly turns into four. So I had a few weekend days to kill the first few days doing the tourist thing. That was over quickly. I've already seen most of the tourist attractions - aside from the giant atom-shaped building that lies outside the city center that was a world's fair attraction. Those are always odd.

Now, I know what you're all wondering: But Kevin, your project is about football, why did you go to Belgium? There are no big soccer stories there. That might be true, but there are politics (or more percisely, endless bureaucracy) that I was hoping to tap into. And I mean, its the center of Europe, so I thought it would be an interesting atmosphere. I'm starting to find that I'm wrong.

Wikipedia says that soccer is Belgium's favorite sport. I don't know if I quite believe that. I watched the Belgian team get destroyed by Italy the first night I was here. I went to find the most Belgian bar I could in hopes of seeing what the Belgians thought of their team. There aren't Belgian sports bars (sports would get in the way of the massive alcohol consumption, I think). Instead I settled for a quaint Irish pub that was showing the game, but there were still Belgians there watching the game, so I thought they might have interesting opinions. Thats when I learned the horrible truth: There are no Belgian fans. People (including the Belians) cheered all three times Italy scored, but when Belgium put in a beautiful goal in the last minute, the room was silent. At first I thought it might be because they weren't watching. I mean, Belgium was down three and it was the last minute, but all the Belgians were glued to the TV. They just don't like their own team.

So Brussels doesn't like football, I suppose that's okay. So what is Belgium known for? Waffles. Check, I got one the other day as I was wandering around the city. It was delicious, covered in strawberries and whipped cream. I don't think another waffle will ever measure up. I would eat them everyday if they weren't four Euros. Instead I've been cooking and eating pasta and ham and cheese sandwiches. I know, so cultural.

You know what else the Belgians are known for, which I forgot about until I got here. The Smurfs! Everybody's favorite tiny blue community originated from this odd little country, which is somewhat fitting. I think the two do a lot as far as explaining each other. Their other national symbol is a statue of a little boy peeing. It's all over their websites and brouchures, and I almost missed it when I went to find it. It's about 1 foot tall, and hidden in the corner of the winding streets. I wasn't too impressed. Then again, I haven't been impressed by much in Brussels. Except the waffles.

And the beer. Not the beer itself, just the sheer volume of it. They're known for beer. There's a bar that has more than 2600 beers. 2600 beers. If you went every night and drank five a night, that would take you almost two years to try all of them, and I doubt you would remember most of them. It's in the Guinness Book of World Records.

When I first got here I didn't like it, obviously, but it's starting to grow on me - mainly due to its eccentricities. I'm not saying I like it here, but its interesting.

When I walked out of my hostel yesterday morning I was swept up in a wave of preparation for the city's major parade. Why would they be parading, one might ask. The answer is simple: water. It was a parade in celebration of water. What a wonderful thing that you don't have to really have a reason to block off several of the city's major thoroughfares, only a fairly common chemical substance. The parade was really cool though.

Its been a while since I posted, and that's not really due to me doing a whole lot, it is more evident of the lack of internet access I've had. But here I sit at McDonald's in the heart of Belgium, where I can always count on free wireless internet access and if I'm lucky, a power outlet.

I can't complain about the hostel though. It's clean and nice, and has multiple showers. And, despite sleeping in a room with 13 other people, I've had a relatively easy time sleeping.

Brussels is having a Smurf celebration event the day that I leave. I'm kind of sad I'll miss it, though I don't think I'll be sad to move on to another city.