England – Page 25 – Valpo Voyager

Category: England (page 25 of 26)

Old Trafford: The Theatre of Dreams

12 years is a long wait for anything. But for me, waiting 12 years to go to my first Manchester United match at Old Trafford felt like eternity. When you wait so long for something you wonder if it will be meet the expectations that have been built up over the last decade or so. But for me, there was no question that seeing my favorite football club in their famous stadium would not only meet my expectations, but surpass them.

Indeed it did.

I remember watching Manchester United when I was young. I remember my fascination and my immediate love for the club and all its players and most of all, I remember wishing that I would one day be able to witness them play. The years went by and my love for the club only intensified with every season and with every match, but my wish remained the same.

Recently I was finally able to accomplish my dream and make that wish come true. As soon as tickets had gone on sale for the Manchester United vs. West Bromwich Albion match on October 16^th I purchased tickets and on day before the match I made the much-anticipated journey to Manchester, England. Less than an hour after arriving at the train station I arrived at Old Trafford – a Mecca for all United supporters. I stopped and admired the stadium I had seen hundreds of times on TV and for a moment, I even had to pinch myself. Being there simply seemed too good to be true.

Indeed it was.

Before I knew it, I was standing next to the pitch my heroes play on every week as part of a guided tour of the entire stadium. Minutes later I found myself sitting in the players’ dressing room where famous names such as George Best, Bryan Robson and David Beckham have sat… the same room where Sir Alex Ferguson gives his team talks and where the champagne is popped after a cup triumph. Some of the most famous athletes in the world occupied the same room on a frequent basis.

Following the tour of the stadium I walked through every room inside the museum, admiring all of the trophies and awards on display. With over 100 years of rich, unmatched history on show, I found it hard to make myself leave. Finally, after more than two hours inside the museum and an additional hour in the stadium’s Mega Store, I forced myself to move on. I suppose it helped that I would be back inside the stadium the following day as Manchester United hosted West Brom.

If I thought touring the stadium and its museum was something special, I was in for the experience of a lifetime on the day of the match. After bumping into a group of United fans who had made the journey down from Ireland, we hung out a supporters’ pub before the match as we counted down the hours until kick-off. We arrived at Bishops Plaize at 11:00, four and a half hours before kick-off, and astonishingly by this time the pub was already packed with supporters socializing and belting out chant after chant about their beloved club. It didn’t take long for me to join in.

The time for the match finally arrived and by then I was already hoarse. My voice would suffer further impairment as I spent the entire 90 minutes of the match participating in the numerous chants that rang around the stadium. Never before in my life had I experienced such a remarkable atmosphere at a sporting event. This was an experience of a lifetime, not just for me, but for most of the 75,023 fans inside the stadium. Despite the match ending in a 2-2 draw, I was still incredibly satisfied with the experience of being at my first Manchester United match. More than anything though, I was already plotting my return to Manchester for another taste of one of the most incredible experiences the world has to offer me.

Footage of the pre-match traditions: Bishops Plaize Pub

The Adventures (and Misadventures) of a Weekend in Paris

October 17, 2010 / Julie Johnson / 0 Comments

From the very beginning of planning my trip to Paris, it seemed as if the weekend was destined for disaster. It took (literally) ten times to buy our Eurostar tickets, we were scammed out of an apartment two days before we were supposed to arrive, and emotions were running high in our group of seven girls who had planned to go together. We had 48 hours, and very few (and not to mention pricey) options left. Four of the girls decided on a hostel as a last resort, while myself and my friends/housemates Hannah and Alyson continued to look. Just as we were about to give up on the search and pick a different weekend to go to Paris, I had an epiphany. Luckily, and very thankfully, the entire Reutlingen group would be in Paris the exact same days, and several of my close friends within the group had mentioned they were getting an apartment. Although I knew there was a very good chance the apartment would be full, I gave it one last shot and Facebook messaged my sorority sister Angela to check the availability. The three of us sat on pins and needles waiting for her response, but, just as all good friends do, Angela pulled through and was kind enough to rebook a bigger apartment to include the three of us: the trip to Paris was back in action.

The ease of the Eurostar chunnel system was fabulous, and we had no huge problems when it came to getting to Paris. We had told the Germany group what time our train got in, and we had exchanged several of our phone numbers. I figured it would be easiest to call them once we had reached the apartment, so we split off from the other group of girls and took a taxi to the address Angela had provided. We still hadn’t heard from the Germany group, and all of the houses in the subdivision had passcode entry. No problem, I would just call them to let us in, right? … Wrong. None of our cell phones would allow us to call the Germany group, and none of our text messages were being answered. Worried and panicked, we stopped into a cafe down the road and tried to figure out what we would do next. Just as I was on the phone with our program director (the only call I was able to make), seeing how he could help us in any way possible, and on the verge of tears, Alyson got a call from an unknown number. It turned out to be the Reutlingen group, and they had been trying to reach us all night. Neither of our cell phone companies worked, so they had finally resorted to the blessing of adding credit to a Skype account. We bolted out of the cafe and just about tackled Zack and Jake as soon as we saw them. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been so excited to see two people in my entire life.

Zack and Jake started to walk us to the apartment, but warned us on the way in. “This place is small and not what we thought it was, you’re going to be disappointed,” Jake told me as he was about to open the front door. I looked at Hannah and Alyson and felt more despair creeping in.. until we stepped into the apartment, that is. It. Was. Amazing. Our own private pool, five bedrooms, five baths, a huge living room, kitchen, and dining room, as well as a deck that led out onto the roof. Not only were we safely in Paris, but we were going to live like rockstars for the next few days.

Our wonderful living room and porch!

After all the greetings and exclamations of relief that we were alright from our Reutlingen friends, we settled into our new palace and decided to break in the pool. We were in the pool for hours before realizing how late it was getting, and decided to call it a night in order to see the city the next day.

Unfortunately, we got to a late start to the day, and were in a mad dash to meet the rest of the Cambridge girls at the Cathedrale de Notre Dame. The cathedral was definitely worth the hurry, seeing as it was absolutely breathtaking. I remember seeing a picture of it on a friend’s refrigerator when I was in third grade and always wanting to see it myself, and it was surely worth the several year wait.

We decided to take the Metro back to the apartment and buy groceries for the rest of the weekend before we went to the Louvre that evening, and so far, the Metro had been super easy to master. It had been easy getting to Notre Dame, so we thought it would be just as simple to get home. Not so much. In a moment of utter confusion, and being unable to find someone who could give us clear directions in English, we hopped on a double decker train. We knew right away this probably wasn’t a good idea, and decided that we would get off at the next stop. Unfortunately, the train didn’t stop.. for 25 minutes. In a frenzy, we hurried off the train and realized we couldn’t even get onto a different train without a train ticket, which of course, we didn’t have. Hearing that we were lost, a nice Englishman behind us stopped us and asked where we were going. “We need to get to the 20th district,” I said, pointing our stop out to him on the map. “In Paris?” he responded, starting to laugh. I didn’t find this funny, of course it was Paris, that’s where we were after all. “You’re 15 miles outside of Paris in the suburbs,” he replied, looking at our terrified expressions. He explained to us that a train back to the heart of Paris would be leaving in 7 minutes, and he even scanned his train pass so that we could get through in time. I’m still convinced the man was an angel.

After arriving back at our apartment about an hour and a half later than originally planned, we rushed to get ready for the Louvre, which was definitely one of the places I was most excited to see in Paris. Our trip to the Louvre was great, and although I was a tad bit disappointed by the size of the Mona Lisa, it was still an incredible experience to see so many works of art that are so highly idolized and admired. We spent another evening hanging out and enjoying the company of our new housemates, and all was going well until the power in the house went completely out. None of us had any idea what to do, but thankfully, a French friend of Angela’s that had stopped by the house figured out our breaker box, and our power was restored after 40 minutes of chaos. We all laughed about it, and I already knew that leaving this wonderful place and amazing company on Sunday would be rough.

Saturday was jam-packed with sightseeing, and luckily, Alyson had friends that are studying in Paris who were happy to be our tour guides. We did a lot of walking, seeing the Sacre Coeur, Arc de Triomphe, and Moulin Rouge along the way. Since the Louvre is enormous, we also made a second trip there to see more of the iconic artwork that we didn’t catch the first time around. We decided to save the Eiffel Tower for night, and were luckily enough to catch the 8:00-8:05 light show, which was just amazing. I found myself falling more and more in love with Paris and the Parisian lifestyle throughout the day, and thinking about my train in the morning was seriously depressing.

The light show at the Eiffel Tower.. Amazing!

We spent one last, amazing night with our housemates, staying up way too late to be happy about waking up at 6:00 am to catch the chunnel. I slept through both the trains from Paris to London and London to Cambridge, and although the weekend was absolutely incredible, I was pleased to see the house when I remembered my bed was inside of it. The weekend was a crazy mess of ups-and-downs, but really, I wouldn’t have it any other way — It was just further proof that no matter what life throws at you, you can rely on the care of your friends, kindness of strangers, and brain of yourself to get you through absolutely anything. Paris was a weekend I will surely never forget.

Amsterdam: More than just the ‘Venice of the North’

October 11, 2010 / Jeff Harbert / 0 Comments

When most people hear Amsterdam, they think about the Red Light District. But what most people don’t realize is there is so much else to see and do Amsterdam and it is those things that ultimately make it one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Spending three days in Amsterdam not only proved this to me, but gave me one of my best travel experiences in my entire life. With the city of Amsterdam being an incredible 60% water and only 40% land, every street I turned on to I found myself confronted with an absolutely beautiful view of the Amstel River. Nicknamed the ‘Venice of the North’, Amsterdam has more than 100 km’s of canals and over 1,500 bridges. In other words, it made for a fantastic weekend of touring Holland’s great capital.

Prior to departing for Amsterdam I did a lot of research about the city and made a list of things I wanted to do or places I wanted to see during my three day visit. When I traveled to Munich three weeks ago I failed to do adequate research about the city and what there was to do and ended up leaving with a feeling of dissatisfaction. I was determined not to let that happen this time around. All I wanted to do was make the most out of this trip and see as much of the city as possible.

Three days and 253 pictures later, I can definitely say I did. I’m not really one to pull out my camera at every significant sight I see, but I doubt I have ever looked like more of a tourist than I did in Amsterdam. I was okay with that though, mainly because the city was so stunning and I felt obliged to document as much of it as possible.

If ever you travel to a big city in Europe, take advantage of the guided walking tours. Most big cities in Europe have them and they are well advertised, both on the web and at hotels and hostels in that city. Not only are they free, but they ensure you see as much of the city as possible and provide information about the history of the city and the numerous sights you see along the way. My tour guide in Amsterdam was actually an Australian named Julian, but he probably knew more about the city than most locals. Along the way we saw the Royal Palace of Netherlands, the oldest and second oldest churches in the country (literally called the New and Old Church), the ‘Café In De Waag’ (once an execution building), the narrowest house in all of Amsterdam, the Dutch National Museum, a coffee shop where part of Ocean 12 was filmed, the house where Ann Frank lived and much, much more. The tour concluded at Boom Chicago, a fancy Dutch restaurant where if you finish your first plate of food you are served a second one for free. We all finished, of course.

Following the tour and after devouring two plates of fantastic Dutch food – Rockworst and potatoes – we headed to our hostel boat that we would be staying on for two nights. I was somewhat uncertain of what the boat would be like, but immediately after arriving, I knew it would be the perfect place to stay. It turned out it was too. The owner of the boat was an extremely friendly and outgoing man by the name of Hansen (although I still couldn’t pronounce it the proper Dutch way if it saved my life) and he made us feel right at home. Located in Oosterdok, a scenic harbor in the east part of the city, the boat provided a great place to relax after a long day of walking around the city.

I saw and did many great things during my stay in Amsterdam, but going on a canal cruise was undoubtedly my best decision of the weekend. I thought I had seen a lot during my walking tour the day before, but sitting on the back of a long boat as it wound through the Amstel River in the heart of the city was spectacular and definitely helped me get the most out of my visit. It also may have helped that it was such a gorgeous day, but as I floated along the numerous canals in various parts of the city, I realized how unique and beautiful of a city Amsterdam is.

From its laid back culture to its magnificent canals, Amsterdam is a place I’ll never forget. One of the coolest sights I witnessed was the numerous street performers at Dam Square, the historical center of the city and the setting for the Royal Palace and the National Monument. Huge flocks of people, not just tourists, gather around to either watch a trio of people play jazz music or a man perform magic tricks. It’s all quite entertaining, really. Not to mention relaxing. During all hours of the day and night the tables and chairs outside of the cafes and restaurants are filled with people, all of whom are enjoying a cup of tea or a pint of Heineken or Grolch (the premium lagers in the Netherlands). Most interestingly, people face the street while sipping on their beverage and conversing with their companions, something I have never witnessed before.

The city may be famed for its ‘coffee shops’, but if I had to sum up Amsterdam in two words, I would say relaxing and beautiful. That’s what I took from this great city, along with the 253 photos and countless memories, of course.

Five Important Things to do Before You Travel

October 5, 2010 / Jeff Harbert / 1 Comment

Planning a trip can seem somewhat daunting at times, especially if you’re traveling to a new country for the very first time. If you plan accordingly, however, you are guaranteed to get a much better experience out of it. And no matter how many hours of research you end up doing beforehand, it will be worth every second of it once you arrive at your destination. Based on my travels so far, here’s a list of the five important things to research or do before you depart:

1) Transportation – It’s not even worth mentioning you need to figure out how to get to the airport from your own house, but it’s important to research the best ways to travel to your hostel, hotel or friend’s house from the airport you’re flying into. It’s easy just to wave down a taxi outside the airport, but if you’re traveling by yourself or in a small group, there are often cheaper options. It’s not a bad idea to check if there are any buses or trains leaving from the airport towards the place you need to be. Most airports provide bus or train services for a relatively cheap price.

2) Contact Information – in case of emergency, it’s always good to make sure someone from back home knows where you are staying in whatever country you may be traveling to. The chances of your flight being cancelled may be slim, but in case an emergency does arise, such as Eyjafjallajökull (the Iceland volcano no one can pronounce) earlier this year, it’s important your friends or family from back home know where you are.

3) Communication – To go along with the second point, it’s vital to have at least some form of communication while you are traveling. Not all hostels provide internet access so it isn’t a bad idea to have a phone on you. I found that extremely helpful when I travelled to Munich with four of my friends. At times it’s easy to get lost or separated from your friends, and without a phone, it can be a nightmare trying to locate other members of your group. Lastly, if you do have a phone, make you sure find out what the country code is where you are so you can make calls. Here’s a list of country calling codes: http://www.countrycallingcodes.com/countrylist.php

4) Attractions – I can speak from experience when I say it’s a terrible idea to fly to a new country without any real idea of what you want to see or do while you are there. If you research what type of attractions your country has to offer you’ll be able to pick and choose what you want to do ahead of time, ensuring you get the most out of your visit and experience as much of the culture as you possibly can. The internet is full of information of what to do and see in various countries, and if that doesn’t suffice, most book stores contain travel guides for specific countries, even cities. Also, bring a map of the city in order to help you get around from place to place.

5) Budget – Some countries cost more than others and it’s safe to say that food, drinks, accommodation and the price of tourist attractions varies in each country. Do a little research beforehand so you can have a good idea of how much money you think you’ll need to spend during your travels. It’s always good to have an idea of how much things will cost so you’re not overwhelmed when you get there.

The list is by no means conclusive, but it can be a good start for anyone embarking on a trip to a new country. Most importantly, have fun and take full advantage of being in a place some people still dream of going to.

Cheers!

Time to prove yourself

October 5, 2010 / derekschnake / 0 Comments

I ran with the Cambridge cross country club this morning. The pack leader looks at me and asks, “So you’re a half-miler yeah?”

I reply, “Yes, I run the half-mile and mile.” A hush fell over the group, which consisted mainly of 5k and 10k road runners and half-marathoners. After about a minute of silence the pack leader turns to me and asks, “Can you hold your distance?” in the same tone of voice senior fraternity brother would ask a pledge, “Can you hold your liquor?”

I replied in a cowboy accent, “Damn straight.”

“Good lad,” he smirked and we floored it for the remaining five miles.

All before my first class this morning.

The Art of Adaptation

October 3, 2010 / Julie Johnson / 0 Comments

Adaptation is kind of a funny concept. When I arrived in Cambridge 38 days ago, I had a feeling that my study abroad semester would go something like this: Leave USA, go to this “foreign” country for a few months, return to USA and life goes on completely as usual. I had in mind that Cambridge was just going to be a few months vacation. 38 days in, and with 72 days to go, I can already say this isn’t the case at all… Cambridge is starting to feel just like home.

I’m not sure exactly when or how it happened, but life here seems incredibly normal. From the outside looking in, it may seem a little absurd, considering I live and go to class in a house with fifteen other people, have to cook for myself (a big feat when it comes to myself), and am jet-setting all over Europe on the weekends. Normal to everyone? Not at all. Normal to me? Absolutely.

One of the main reasons I chose to study abroad, and quite possibly for other students as well, is the challenge that it offers you. My life has always been incredibly comfortable (not that it’s a bad thing), but my sense of adventure was asking for something a little more. I have learned to change and adapt to the setting around me, and I’m loving every minute of it.

In 72 days, which I’m sure will fly by, I’ll find that once again, I’ll be adapting. This time it will be into the life that I already know and love, in the U.S. Although I know I will probably never live in Cambridge again, I will always carry a piece of my Cambridge lifestyle with me.

Cambridge Beauty

Excitement, danger, or something more?

October 3, 2010 / derekschnake / 0 Comments

Police coups and terror threats have comprised my international newsfeed this past week.

Last week, Ecuador underwent a violent police rebellion, which was ultimately suppressed by the incumbent government. Looting was rampant and American students—like my girlfriend—were confined to their homes for safety reasons. I worried about her safety, naturally, and I monitored the news carefully.

A few days later, the tables have turned slightly; the American government has issued a travel alert to all American citizens in Europe. According to intelligence, al-Qaeda has threatened to carry out “commando-style” attacks in several European cities, primarily in the UK, France, and Germany.

But somewhere between reading headlines about police coups, and worrying for the safety of my girlfriend, I found myself a bit jealous of my girlfriend’s plight. How could I wish to be in a country under siege of a police rebellion?

It probably has to do with the adolescent dream I once had of being an embedded journalist in a war-torn country. It’s not so much the danger and the resulting adrenaline that excites me, but instead the idealistic notion of witnessing the drama of human history as it unfolds right before my eyes.

To be clear, I would never wish for a crisis or catastrophe to occur just to feed my picaresque tendencies. But when history happens in the world, I want be there to record it and maybe one day take part.

British airmen laying a wreath of tribute at the Cambridge American Cemetary.

What’s in the name?

September 28, 2010 / derekschnake / 1 Comment

It’s 4:45 this morning and the sun remains asleep in Scotland. The sparse streetlamps of the town Inverness quickly fade into the blackness of the highlands as my train careens forward. In order for us to make it home at a reasonable hour, we opted to leave at a unreasonable hour; the nearly nine-hour trip flies when asleep against a train window.

“The next stop is Nairn,” said the overhead. Nairn, what a pretty name, I think. It not only sounds pretty—especially when spoken with a proper Scottish accent—but it’s also aesthetically pleasing. It looks and sounds as if it was stolen from the pages of Lord of the Rings or World of Warcraft. It’s a tall, kingly name.

Inbhir Naraan is the original Celtic name of Nairn. Like most public signs in Scotland, it is listed underneath the official name in a dull yellow color. Even the jumbles of letters like “Bunsgoil Ghlinn” and “Mhonaidh” have seemingly more unpronounceable origins.

The Scots make a big deal out of names—especially family names, which are not merely a form of identification here. Your family name branches backward into the past, intertwining you with roots of human history. All the plaid designs of Scottish wool, called “tartan,” are specifically designated to a particular clan or family. Every gift shop sells garments and trinkets with Scottish family tartans. From Bruce to Lochlan to MacGregor, there’s a specific plaid pattern just for your family.

I think my scarf is a Wallace, I think glancing down towards neck. With a heavy, tired sigh, I gaze into the black highlands landscape.

While faded ghosts of Scottish pine trees whizz pass my window, I have time to contemplate my own name. Schnake is of German origin and its closest translation is somewhere between “gnat” and “mosquito,” though I’m not sure why anyone would choose that name. About four or five generations ago, Heinrich Schnake emigrated from Bavaria in Suden Deutschland to settle in southern Illinois. The strong German heritage seemed to smoothly run through the family tree—at least until my brother and I came along.

See, I don’t look very German. Derek Schnake could as well be a fair-skinned Bavarian fellow playing a tuba in a pair of lederhosen. But, my clay-brown skin and coffee-colored hair invite speculations of anything but German. Mostly, I get some variation of a Latin American country, but every now and then I get Italian, Grecian, or more rarely, Arab. The fact is I don’t match, thanks to my mother’s Filipino heritage. I usually tell people I’m Filipino instead of German because it makes the most sense to people. It matches what they see.

As the sky above the North Sea begins to brighten, I wonder what my mother’s maiden name means: Pangilinan. What does it mean? What is its history? Maybe in Manila, the capitol of the Philippines, they have gift shops with Pangilinan inscribed on an overly priced bottle-opener key chain, much like Scotland. Somehow I doubt it.

The sky has now turned to a turquoise color. Those pine trees now have more manageable silhouettes and I can begin to see the hills in the backdrop. The clouds seem to scatter away from the sun as if afraid.

Here in Highlands—and all the UK, for this matter—family history is something you wear on your sleeve, no matter how meager the origin. For the Scottish people, a name and a tartan tell the family story. For me, I stuff two very different cultures into a space fit for one.

Still, as dawn passes into day outside my window, I’m comforted and thankful. As much as I cherish my family’s history, I don’t revel in it. Unlike many of the ancient grudges alive here in Great Britain, I’m not tied down by my family’s past; I’m free to live for the moment and embrace the future.

I’m liberated by the start of a new day. Thank you, Scotland.

Lisboa: Welcome Home

September 27, 2010 / Julie Johnson / 0 Comments

After the crazy adventure that was my trip to Munich last weekend, I’ll admit that I was a bit nervous to head to Portugal with my housemates Alyson and Kaleb last Thursday. In fact, I was even more nervous, and frustrated, when our flight was cancelled and rescheduled to Friday due to a French air traffic control strike (apparently that type of stuff happens often in Europe). But as soon as we stepped out of the airport and into the beautiful, fresh Lisbon air, I knew there was no way I was ever going to want to leave.

After a long day of traveling, nothing could beat the views of gorgeous palm trees and sloping red roofs. When we checked into our hostel, we were pleasantly surprised to find out it was almost brand news, and looked more like a New York penthouse than a European hostel. There were travelers our age all around the common areas, and when we were handed our room keys, the desk attendant smiled at us and said “Welcome home.” With the environment that we were in, it definitely seemed fitting. Once we got settled into our new abode, we decided to scope out downtown Lisbon, as well as try out some Portuguese food. We were pleasantly surprised to find many cute outdoor cafes lining the streets, and we settled for a delicious dinner of paninis and sangria. After our stomachs were finally full, we headed back to the hostel and decided to meet some new friends in the common area. We met travelers from all over the world, including Australia, France, Canada, and even the United States. Exhausted, we went to bed early, since we knew a long day of sightseeing was ahead for Saturday.

We were lucky enough to have perfect weather for the entire trip, and spent Saturday walking around and seeing everything we possibly could. We started out heading towards the weekly flea market, which contained just about everything you can imagine. We picked up a few good finds, including some jewelry and clothing, and began the trek up a huge hill to Castelo de Sao Jorge. When we arrived at the castle, we found that there wasn’t much to see, except the great view and pictures from the top. We spent a lot of time crawling through all of the towers and passageways, taking pictures from every type of view.

The view from Sao Jorge.. Beautiful!

Our journey continued on to several other locations that were on our way back into the center of town, including the Lisbon Cathedral. We then decided to take the Lisbon Metro to the aquarium, or the Oceanario as it is better known, which boasts the world’s 2nd largest aquarium tank. Although we easily could have spent the rest of the day looking at all of the different marine life in the aquarium, we headed back to our hostel for a nap and the hostel dinner. We met up with some of our friends that we had meet the previous night, as well as made some new ones. After hanging out for quite awhile in the common areas, we decided to explore the nightlife, and then headed to bed in order to prepare for yet another long day.

The lovely beaches of Caicais

Our last day in Lisbon was spent touring the cute and busy area of Belem, which is home to the Belem Tower, Monument of the Explorers, and the world famous “Pasteis de Belem”, which is known for its’ delicious pastries. Although we had to stand in line, it was definitely worth the wait. Our next adventure took us on a half hour train ride to the wonderful beaches of Caicais, which are known for being a favorite tourist attraction. The sun was hot, and the water was cold, reminding me of a summer day back home at the Dunes. After getting our Vitamin D, we sadly enough had to begin our trip to the airport, and back to England.

Lisbon was everything and more that I could hope for in a trip. In fact, I’m already looking into going back there before the semester is over. The scenery is beautiful, the people are friendly, and there’s enough to see and do for days. I suppose the phrase “welcome home” really is fitting when it comes to “Lisboa”, as the locals call it, and I look forward to returning “home” again one day.

Premiership Football: The Experience of a Lifetime

September 26, 2010 / Jeff Harbert / 2 Comments

Everyone has that one experience they’ve always dreamt of and waited what seems like their whole life for. No matter what I’ve seen or done, there has always been that one experience missing from my life. On Saturday I finally realized that dream: watching a live English Premier League match.

Being such an avid English football fan, it would be the world’s biggest crime if I went the entire semester in England without witnessing a live match. Thankfully I made sure that wouldn’t happen by attending the Fulham vs. Everton match at Craven Cottage in south London on Saturday, which, in all honesty, was nothing short of a dream come true.

The day started off with an hour train ride to London before proceeding to head to the city’s Underground. The tube, as it is known by most locals, can appear somewhat terrifying. With so many routes, so many trains, and so little knowledge of where anything in London is, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly nervous about reaching my destination. Thankfully the Tube is not nearly as complicated as it appears and in fact, traveling to south London was much easier than I anticipated.

Upon arrival, I immediately stumbled upon a pub called Eight Bells. I walked in hoping to get a much needed bite to eat and to be able to converse with locals about the big match. To my surprise, the pub offered very little to eat and was filled with supporters from Everton who had traveled down from Liverpool to cheer on their beloved club. The countless stares I received because of my jersey encouraged me to search for another pub with more options for food… and more importantly, more Fulham supporters. Wearing a Clint Dempsey jersey in these parts is very much a common site. Wearing a USA Clint Dempsey shirt? Not so much. After all, he is the one who scored against England in the World Cup!

I walked along the Thames River looking for a pub when I found something else I never expected to see: Six Americans who flew in from Dallas that morning just for the game. Talk about dedication. It was nice to meet some other American Fulham fans, as well as some people who were as clueless as me about where anything in the area was. With the help of a few locals, however, we made our way to the King’s Arms Pub. The sign on the door said: Fulham and foreign supporters ONLY. We were definitely in the right place.

With just under three hours until kick-off, I was amazed at how packed the pub was. Everywhere I looked I saw people wearing Fulham jerseys, both men, women and children, all talking football and drinking pints of beer (except the kids of course). I talked to a handful of die-hard Fulham fans, some of who had only missed five home matches in the last 36 years. Now that’s really dedication.

As it neared closer to kick-off, the pub slowly began to empty out as everyone, including me and my fellow American fans, made our way down the street to Craven Cottage. There was no need for directions anymore. All we had to was follow the thousands of people heading for the stadium. And if that wasn’t enough, we could even hear the noise from the supporters who were already in the stadium. I looked at my watch and there was still 30 minutes until kick-off! Not too long later, I was inside the Cottage and walking down to my seat in the third row in Hammersmith End – the northernmost stand in the stadium and the home of the more vocal Fulham fans. Definitely the ideal place to sit for one’s first Premiership match!

Anyone who saw me could probably tell it was my first match. After all, if my eagerness to snap away at anything and everything with my camera didn’t make it obvious, the star-struck look in my eyes certainly did. In my defense though, Clint Dempsey, who is one of my all-time heroes, plays as a striker for Fulham, and is adored by their supporters as much as he is by me. I even heard several chants about him during the match, confirming my beliefs. Seeing all the players who I watch play on TV every weekend and being less than twenty feet away from some of them was absolutely surreal.

Once the match got underway, the noise only amplified and the excitement of being there only increased with every minute of play. The noise level created by the fans may have fluctuated throughout the match, but the passion of both sets of fans was there for all to see. And despite the match ending scoreless it was still a fantastic match and a phenomenal experience, every bit as amazing as I had hoped it would be. It’s an experience of a lifetime, especially when you’re a die-hard football fan.

After getting my first taste of English football, I already can’t wait to go to another match. With that in mind, I guess it’s a good thing I bought tickets for the West Ham vs. Fulham match this coming Saturday! If I’m in England, the birthplace of football, I might as well make the most of this opportunity and experience as much as I can of the sport most people in this country love more than anything.

Valpo Voyager

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