The draw for the 2018/19 Europa league is approaching, and its always an exciting time for us fans that travel to watch our great club overseas. Will we be able to book our flights before the airline companies work out where we all need to be, and hike the prices through the roof?
We’ve got a team called Vorskla Poltava in our group. I’ve only vaguely heard of them and haven’t got a clue where they are based.
I give my regular mate on most European away trips a call. “Where's Poltava mate”, I ask Terry? Somewhere in the east of Ukraine he says.
How we going to get there is my reply. Well most of the Arsenal fans are going to fly to Kiev on the Wednesday or the Thursday and get a train to Poltava from there he says.
Ok is my reply, keep me updated mate.
An hour later the phone rings and it’s Terry again. I've just spoken to a couple of our good friends and top Arsenal fans he says.
We're going to get some real cheap flights from Luton, to a place near the Russian border called Kharkiv, we can then get a train from there to Poltava, it takes a couple of hours.
Only trouble is, we will have to fly there on a Tuesday and come back on the Saturday.
It's the only days the flights go. At that time, we have no idea what an adventure it will turn out to be.
So that's it, the plans have been made. It's going to be a long trip, but the hotels, and more importantly the beers, are dirt cheap. So we're not worried in the slightest! In fact, it’s a new ground to visit, in a far out of the way place, so the excitement levels are high.
The day of departure arrives and it's an easy flight to Kharkiv. There’s only a very few of us Arsenal fans on board. We arrive in Kharkiv, clear customs and get outside the airport. Now this place is cold, very cold, very very cold. It is also grey, very grey, very Eastern European grey. There's seven of us in all in the arrivals lounge, and we don't have a clue where the train station is.
We're all stood there, thinking what do we do next, when we are approached by a very burly, sour looking chap. We all become immediately wary.
Where you going he asks? We all look at each other and one of the lads chirps up, Poltava!
Without a change of tone or expression, the big fella says, “come with me, I take you”. Not “would you like me to take you”. Just simply “I will take you”!
Now we all get a bit doubtful, and the blokes told no, we're ok thanks. But he replies and tells us he is airport taxi, have no worries…….. We all worry, we all worry quite a bit. Especially when one of us goes to the airport information desk and the staff absolutely refuse to confirm that the chap really is a taxi driver.
After some further talking, he says him and his mate will take us to Poltava in two cars, for 50 euros per car. It's a long journey and this seems to be a bargain. We now like the man a little….
All seven of us get our heads together, and decide that although we're all knocking on a bit, and our spring chicken days are definitely long gone. We could all look after ourselves in our day!! We would still give these two blokes a run for their money if they started (we think). So the price is agreed and we jump in these two old bangers.
It's over two hours journey, on sheer ice roads all the way. So our concerns are heightened when five minutes after leaving the airport, the drivers pull over to the side of the road and get out. They stand by the cars and just look at us. Here we go we're thinking, and we start to draw up battle plans, is my right hook still a capable weapon I’m thinking… But it turns out the drivers just wanted a cigarette, and then we're on our way again.
The roads, although wide like motorways, are quite steep in places, and as our cars are struggling to get up some hills, there's lorries trying to go the same way as us, but sliding back down the hill beside us. A 4x4 overtakes us, and we pass it about five miles further up the road, 30 foot down a canyon. It’s all a bit dodgy, and we certainly can’t relax and enjoy the ride. But eventually we reach Poltava, get dropped off at our hotels, and the drivers are on their way. Turned out to be decent fellas in fairness, and true to their word in the end.
We check into the hotel, its grey, very grey, just like most other things here. The bags are put in our rooms, which in fairness are nice, and we go down to the bar for some cheap beers. It's strange stuff, but it tastes ok. It's draught beer, but they've attached a plastic bottle with the bottom cut off, to the beer tap, which the beer has to pass through before going into your glass. To this day I haven’t got a clue why.
We're sitting there chatting away, giving each other some grief, as football fans do. When one of the lads goes a bit white in the face. He's looking at Sky news on his phone, and it's just been announced that the Russians are getting a bit naughty just across the border, so they've declared martial law in the exact area we're staying. What does this mean we’re all thinking. Is there going to be soldiers everywhere and tanks all over the streets? They’re also saying that the game may be cancelled or moved to Kiev, which is a couple of hundred miles away.
With that my phone rings, it's my Mrs back in England. Do you know that it's all over the news that the Russians might invade she says? They are saying there's some Arsenal fans trapped in Poltava. I put her mind at rest and tell her we're not trapped, although I don't know if we are or we aren't to be honest. What are you going to do she says? I'm going to keep drinking this very cheap beer and we're going to think about it in the morning I reply. Her indoors is not amused as we say our goodbyes and I’m not completely sure I’ve put her mind at rest!
The next morning is Wednesday, the day before the game. We wake up wondering what situation we’re going to find ourselves in. We have a walk around Poltava to clear the heads, it’s not a bad place, there’s plenty of coffee shops and bars. and all seems calm. Everyone is going about their normal business, without seemingly a care in the world. We have some breakfast and then a couple of drinks.
Then my phone rings, I answer and it's Arsenal football club. The girl says they are phoning all fans that bought tickets and warning them not to travel to Poltava. It's potentially very dangerous she says, and the game is being moved to Kiev.
I've got a bit of a problem I reply, we're already in Poltava, but thanks for letting us know. She is surprised that we are already there and is concerned for us, I put her mind at rest and say we are all fine. I was genuinely impressed that the club contacted each one of us individually.
Terry and me get our heads together (Terry is the brains of our partnership!) and decide to find the train station. We find it, and we can book a train to Kiev the following morning.
Fourteen quid for a first class ticket, and the journey takes just over a couple of hours.
We then manage to book a hotel in Kiev on the Thursday night, and flights back to England from there on the Friday .
So we're all sorted, but we've still got all Wednesday afternoon in Poltava, so we decide to head down to the stadium where the game would have been played.
There's lots of locals about, all unhappy that the game has been cancelled and wanting their money back. They seem ok that we are there though, and actually apologise to us for the game being moved. Well I think they were apologising, not much English was exchanged….
The stadium itself is a typical Eastern European, small, totally uncovered one. It's also cordoned off. We find a steward and he speaks a bit of English, come with me he says, I'll show you round, and he lets us through the cordon.
He gives us a full tour of the stadium, takes us into the club shop to buy some souvenirs, and turns out to be a genuinely nice bloke. As we leave, we cross his palm with some local silver, and he's a very happy man.
We then decide to make the most of our last night in Poltava, and get totally crapfaced on
the local brew. This also helps us forget that we are potentially in a war zone…..
The following morning, we go to the grey railway station (I bet you’re surprised it was grey!), the train is on time and we're off to Kiev. The first class seats were surprisingly luxurious, and the journey is a very easy one.
Our hotel is not far from the station and we get checked in. Its a big hotel and seems ok. We're both hungry, so we pop into the hotel restaurant and order two chicken kievs. What else would you order in Kiev?….
They look nothing like the Kievs the Mrs buys in Tesco, but they are very nice indeed. The waitresses seem amused that we are excited about eating them.
We then decide to start walking towards the Olympic stadium in Kiev. It's quite a way, but we keep popping into bars for a little light refreshment. They are all very welcoming, and want to talk about the football.
Fortunately…. No, very fortunately, I'm still sober enough to refuse one bar owners offer of an England v Ukraine vodka drinking competition! Even though the owner said he would buy the drinks…..
At the stadium it is clearly obvious that they have had one days notice of hosting this game. There is very slippery sheet ice all around the place and some fresh snow on top of that. I end up on my drunken backside on more than one occasion, much to Terry's delight. It would have really hurt if I wasn’t under the influence I’m sure.
We get into the stadium and it's spooky. A vast stadium, with a few locals and Poltava fans dotted about. But one section crammed full of Arsenal fans, all singing their heads off. It's nice to bump into some Eastern European Gooners, that I've only ever spoken to before on social media.
The game itself is good. The very young Arsenal team play well, considering all the disruption to their plans, and really turn it on, we run out three nil winners. Ramsey, Willock and Smith Rowe scoring.
The game is also memorable for a certain Bukayo Saka making his senior debut. He immediately looked different gravy. Ive since heard him say it was the coldest night he had ever experienced. I can indeed concur with that.
The walk back to the hotel is a long one after the game, and although we find a couple of bars open, and discuss the great performance. Terry is moaning, really moaning (its what he’s best at)!… It's all uphill and he's not happy. We then find a pizza bar open and he fills his face…. Terry is happy once again!
The following morning we are up early for breakfast, and our Friday flight home from Kiev. We should have been flying back from Kharkiv on the Saturday, but that's not going to happen. Although three of the lads did tough it out and get all the way back there for their booked flight home. Credit to them, top top Arsenal lads.
The breakfast in our hotel was being very eagerly anticipated by us both. The advert showed eggs, bacon, mushrooms and all the trimmings. The reality was a bit of cold meat, a hard egg and some even harder bread! When I gently confronted the waitress with a picture of the advertised breakfast, I was met with a shoulder shrug and a look that said, “unlucky sucker”…
So off to Kiev airport we went, for our uneventful flight back to England.
When we land, Terry and myself look at each other, wonder if it all really happened, and decide that trip will take some beating. It's man hugs all round and off we go on our separate ways.
I get home that evening, to be met by my beautiful wife, who has been monitoring the volatile situation in the Eastern Ukraine for the last few days………… To be continued!
Much love
Hillsy the Gooner. X