Arrival

Well, here I am in Russia. After negotiating Heathrow’s Terminal 5, carrying as hand-luggage a small peli-case with vital equipment in it (if that got lost in transit...) and with a just a small delay, we had a nice smooth trip to Moscow. After the pristine, virginal feel of Terminal 5, the local airport is a little less salubrious. Slow carousels trundle our luggage round. Un-tiled floors cause the cases to rattle as we wheel them around. Taxi drivers gather around the arrivals area, trying to pick up as many stupid English travellers as possible who may pay the mark-up on the regular price. Fortunately, we have UEFA transport ferry us to the hotel.

It is about a 45 minute drive to the hotel, dominated by tall, grey buildings reaching up to the sky. There are signs of more expensive properties as we drive but the route along the motorways is repeatedly that of high-rise accommodation. We pass the Luzhniki Stadium, a large dome like structure reminiscent of the Albert Hall standing out amongst the rest of the architecture of the city. That is where I will be spending the majority of my stay, sadly like all of these occasions stuffed into a truck in the car-park with the biggest event of the season tantalisingly close.

When we reach the city centre, the scene becomes brighter, more neon advertisements and brightly lit bridges across the river. Our hotel, right next to the river and about half an hour’s walk from Red Square, is smart, neat and comfortable. Once checked in our thought’s immediately turn to refreshment. The hotel bar serves beers in pint glasses with “John Smith’s” or “Newcastle Brown” logos on them suggesting a job-lot was purchased specifically for the English influx although the brands on the glass don’t necessarily relate to the contents within. Sadly the glasses aren’t quite filled, rather in the continental style with a larger head and space at the top, which at about £6 a glass is disappointing. There is a rumour of a nearby “Blue Shack” which serves beers at £1 a go but this may just be an urban myth. Our group instead heads off towards the city in search of food.

As we walk, there are a few Manchester United fans kicking an old football around but otherwise England’s representation is fairly quiet. We find a nice little cafe in a pedestrianised area which rustles us up some tasty chicken kebabs which was just what I needed. With a couple of beers on top, a tenner a head seems a very reasonable deal. With it being a fairly quiet Monday night in Moscow, I get the feeling we could have settled in for a friendly ‘lock-in’ until the United supporters sit down and start singing. Although they are boisterous and rowdy, they are causing absolutely no trouble and, apart from the noise, are fairly inoffensive. The staff however, conscious of the attention the singing causes and not wanting any hassle, stop serving drinks and turn the lights off. Always the few spoiling it for the majority...

So my first night in Moscow came to a close. A couple of my friends ended up tagging along with some locals who claimed to ‘know a bar’ somewhere for late drinks. I declined the offer to join them (I can’t do late nights like I used to) and was in bed by about 2am but it is three hours ahead of BST so not as late as it sounds. I am just finishing the rig at the stadium on a hot, sticky afternoon but feeling much better than those carrying minor hangovers. Hopefully I will manage to have a wander down to Red Square in the morning before the game for the obligatory photos and the chance to say I have been there. Tonight, I suspect the city will be a lot busier with fans from both sides hitting the streets. I hate to admit it and I hope I am wrong but it is probably best to have a night staying closer to the hotel.