The Euros Part 2

Anyone who would like to read the first leg of my European Champions adventure in Paris the link is here:
https://steemit.com/football/@blanchy/the-euros-paris-part-1

The Euros Part Two

Anyhow we must plough ahead to the second part of this holiday. Bordeaux was the next destination for Ireland's second match of the European championship in 2016. It was to be played against Belgium. So we were to go there the morning after the Irish game in Paris and we were all a bit rough to say the least after our partying at the Moulin Rouge the night before. Attached is a video of the Irish waking up the next day after the a night of celebration

It was some night alright. The Swedes were a great bunch up for a laugh and we got on great with them and their sexy wifes.

We were very hungover especially Jos who was having some kind of Spanish matador dance off with a viking Swede. It was very weird altogether. So the hangover was one thing but what made matters worse was that we had to catch the very fast of the fastest trains to Bordeaux at 9am that morning. Mother of god. The train station was a mess. Irish people wondering around like zombies looking for a train to Bordeaux. Some were lying face down on the ground. Others were just wandering around looking for water. There was no help of any kind which I found quite bad. The Germans would of had you rounded up and put on a train ticket or no ticket but I guess they are used to that kind of malarky! Kenneth the planner had our tickets and seats booked. I've never seen a drunk guy take so much care of a polly pocket before with all our train details . Out of the corner of our dehydrated peepers , we just saw a train with Bordeaux written on it about to leave so we took a risk and jumped on. At that stage we needed a rest so we all got a bit of much needed shut eye for the whole of 15 minutes until the nuns boarded the train. An Irish person seeing a nun on a train is the same as Jesus walking onto a train. A video of the boys in the carriage beside us is below. Of course they broke into a song. A prayer song. "Our Father". This was captured on video also. The poor nun with a load of guys hanging out of her. She was traumatised after it.

Now I love my parties and normally am the life and soul with a few drinks in me but we were singing over every little thing. If someone went to the toilet we would sing, If someone passed by we would sing. so when we hit Bordeaux we all agreed that we were that wee bit long in the tooth for that so maybe we should find a bar off the beaten track where we do not have to stand up for the boys in green every five seconds. The shoes off for the boys in green got slightly on the odourous side as well. I have never seen socks so bad in all my days. With one old guy, his sock didn't have a hole, the hole had a sock. However I did like some chants Go Home to your sexy wifes or You're shit but your birds are fit were my favourites to the Swedish fans. This mutated into Go home to your lovely chocolate to the Belgium fans. The bar was lowered.

I took a sneaky trip down to Bordeaux a couple of months before with my wife. Little did she know I was scouting nice bars for the tournament to come. She didn't even know I was going at the time. However I knew that I was going and I was keen to get my bearings. We stumbled upon a lovely quaint French bar called Cafe Brun .

Packed with atmosphere but not too noisy. Sold. I mentioned slash forced the lads to go there for a drink because I knew they would love it.. We met with our airbnb person and we were in the cafe by Tuesday at 1pm. Good going. The match wasn't until that Saturday. So a nice relaxing 4 days watching the Euros in a bar. 3 matches a day with a few drinks with the gang. My idea of heaven. So we walked into Cafe Brun and the barman had an English football jersey on. Chelsea. I bloody hate Chelsea but it's not his fault. So there are a good few old Irish fans drinking also . All with the same idea. Getting away from the absolute carnage that was the main supporters hubs. We wanted peace and quiet. This was our haven. They looked at us and we looked at them and we got the nod of approval. We knew the rules with a glance off one of the elder statesman. No fucking chanting. We were happy with that. The same guys had a guitar but it was proper music. Another guy playing the spoons and a singer whose voice was trained to sing all the old hits.
Here's a snippet. Ignore me humming.

Some guy in a fishermans hat asked me did I have an iphone charger. I gave him mine and he charged his phone next to me. We were watching England versus Wales and he was shouting for Wales very vocally. I got talking to him but both of us stayed watching the match. Taling but looking at each other. We watched the first half and his phone was sufficiently charged up so he went back to his family. Ken came over and sat in the vacant seat.
You have spent the first half talking to Damien Duff, the former Irish & Chelsea midfielder.
He was alot more junkier looking than I expected and I didnt know him in the fishermans hat. When he sat back down I took a photo of him behind me. I'm too proud to ask for photos and I hate pining to people. We all go to the toilet so he's no better than me. And there's the barman picking up his glass with his Chelsea top unaware that one of their players is drinking in his bar. Haha. Le Sucker.

sideways snap alert, duffer with his hat

Duff with the Special One
Anyway we spent the week in there and a place called House of Paliament. It was a great few days. The day of the match was much more subdued than Paris and we mosied our way out to the staduim. The stadium called the Nouveau Stade de Bordeaux wasn't the largest but it had a great views from anywhere in it and it was a beautiful looking stadium from the outside.

The match wasn't great as we lost 3-0 to Belgium. We could not deal with their strength so we went back to Cafe Brun with our tails between our legs. We were to spead a couple of more days in beautiful Bordeaux before we went to Lille for the final match of the group. Bordeaux had a different crowd. It was harder to fly into so it wasn't as manic as Paris. It was alot more chilled out which I loved. Everyone sitting around in cafes by the river Garonne sipping beers.

The Paris attacks happened a couple of months before the Euro's so everyone was a bit sketchy in Paris. Personally I could not wait to leave the city. I love Paris but it was different with all the heavy security that year. Bordeaux was more relaxing. But one thing happened when we were all sittng outdoors at the banks of the river. Hundreds of us were sitting in the bar and all of a sudden we heard the sound of engines. But the sound was strange and it was getting louder. The whole beer garden ducked for cover and some tables were knocked. We looked overhead as we thought a plane was crashing and we saw 9 x F16 fighter jets display with the smoke of the French nation. We all got some fright. Everyone started getting up laughing and looking around. It was funny but not that funny.

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