Day 3 Morning: Frankfurt (10 June)
It’s Saturday and that makes it England day, and I’m going to see England play Paraguay at 3pm (must remember it’s not a night game). This is the day I revert to my origins and wear my England shirt.
I awake early, now adjusted to the 8 hours time difference, and out for breakfast. I can’t believe it! Downstairs, there are Australians everywhere, and logos of the Football Federation Australia all over the place. Then I see why. The Sheraton is the official FFA Ticket Collection Point. Even the Aussies heading straight to Kaiserslautern are here to pick up their tickets. Four guys with heavy back packs see my England shirt, they yell, “Go the Aussies”, and I tell them I’m from Sydney. They are in high spirits and we joke around, and as I head off, one shouts, “You can get back on the Aussie bandwagon tomorrow.” I intend to.
In the airport and train station, it’s game on. Both are now packed with people wearing their team colours, and lots of Australians. There are desperate Englishmen holding up pleading signs which say, ‘I need a ticket’. Last night, the town was busy with cockney touts buying and selling – quite how they get around the ID issues, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll find out today.
I book my train tickets to Mannheim where I am staying next. Gee, public transport is expensive. It’s a 33 minute journey, like from Central to Strathfield, and the cost is E65, or over A$100 return. Back at the hotel, through the Australian throng (worse than Martin Place), I get in the lift with a hotel porter and a couple of Americans. The porter taps my England badge and says, “It’s going to be crazy out there,” and he turns to the American couple and says, “Stay in your room. Nobody in Frankfurt is safe. The English, they even bring their own police.” The American woman looks horrified, and the porter steps out of the lift with me, and bursts out laughing. “I love teasing the Americans,” he says. I ask him where all the Germans were last night. “They’re hiding as well,” he says.
Now off to the game. Hope it's as good as the cracker opening game, Germany 4 Costa Rica 2.
I awake early, now adjusted to the 8 hours time difference, and out for breakfast. I can’t believe it! Downstairs, there are Australians everywhere, and logos of the Football Federation Australia all over the place. Then I see why. The Sheraton is the official FFA Ticket Collection Point. Even the Aussies heading straight to Kaiserslautern are here to pick up their tickets. Four guys with heavy back packs see my England shirt, they yell, “Go the Aussies”, and I tell them I’m from Sydney. They are in high spirits and we joke around, and as I head off, one shouts, “You can get back on the Aussie bandwagon tomorrow.” I intend to.
In the airport and train station, it’s game on. Both are now packed with people wearing their team colours, and lots of Australians. There are desperate Englishmen holding up pleading signs which say, ‘I need a ticket’. Last night, the town was busy with cockney touts buying and selling – quite how they get around the ID issues, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll find out today.
I book my train tickets to Mannheim where I am staying next. Gee, public transport is expensive. It’s a 33 minute journey, like from Central to Strathfield, and the cost is E65, or over A$100 return. Back at the hotel, through the Australian throng (worse than Martin Place), I get in the lift with a hotel porter and a couple of Americans. The porter taps my England badge and says, “It’s going to be crazy out there,” and he turns to the American couple and says, “Stay in your room. Nobody in Frankfurt is safe. The English, they even bring their own police.” The American woman looks horrified, and the porter steps out of the lift with me, and bursts out laughing. “I love teasing the Americans,” he says. I ask him where all the Germans were last night. “They’re hiding as well,” he says.
Now off to the game. Hope it's as good as the cracker opening game, Germany 4 Costa Rica 2.
posted by Graham Hand | 12:43 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home