Wales Away always throws up some complications, but this trip to Montenegro takes the biscuit.
It started so simply. A trip to Montenegro, a new destination for us. It’s in the Balkans. I love the Balkans.
As soon as the fixture was announced, we booked ourselves an AirBnB. £20 a night. At that price we couldn’t afford to stay at home.
Sometimes, the venue for the game is some one-horse-town in the middle of nowhere. Which means it can make sense to stay somewhere more lively, then travel on the day of the game. Montenegro v Wales is being played in Podgorica, the capital city of Montenegro.
Many Wales fans booked to stay in the coastal resort of Budva and travel up to Podgorica for the game.
Having never been to the city, we opted to stay in Podgorica. It is, after all, the capital city of Montenegro, there must be loads to do.
As we made the booking, there was talk of redundancy in work, which might have meant I’d be retired by the time the game came around, so we could move on to Budva for a few days anyway, then maybe head up to Kotor and perhaps Dubrovnik.
Then I was finally given a date for my retirement. October. Which meant touring was not really an option in September. But hey, a few days in an off the beaten track Balkan city is fine by us.
We booked our flights. Then, as sod’s law would have it, a few days later, they announced the ticket allocation. It was tiny, which meant we would be unlikely to be actually going to the game. But no matter. There would be loads of other ticketless fans watching in local pubs around the stadium where the game was being played. A pub with a big screen had been booked for ticketless fans. Sorted.
But where was the game being played? After having months to sort themselves out, two weeks before the game, the pitch was still unplayable. The game would now be played in Niksic. With fans staying in Podgorica, Budva and even Dubrovnik, this suddenly became a logistical nightmare for many fans – and trip organisers like Wonky Sheep.
With no ticket there’s no point in travelling to Niksic, but hey, we are having a few days in an exotic Balkan city. Can’t complain.
Or is it? Trawling through various YouTube videos made by amateur travel guides I come to two conclusions. Firstly Podgorica appears to be fairly widely labelled as the most boring capital city in Europe.
Secondly, some people think filming themself wandering around a city they have done no research on, makes them a ‘travel vlogger’. “There’s a statue over there. We asked the old lady on the corner who it is, but she didn’t know, so your guess is as good as ours”. Really? WTF? It’s like Wikipedia had never been invented. I ponder on the idea of becoming a ‘Social Media Under the Influencer’. Can’t do worse than some of these clowns.
I do some research into the music scene of Podgorica and include some of the best bands on the Peppermint Iguana Radio Show (which goes out the same day they announced the game won’t be in Podgorica. Fortunately I had a band from Niksic on the play list, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time).
The night before we fly we watch Wales put in an impressive performance against Turkey in Cardiff. Things might be looking up under new manager, Craig Bellamy. We even get the ball in the net, but Sorba The Taff’s goal is ruled offside.
On 7th September one of my all time favourite bands, Headmix Collective, are playing in Blackwood. They’re big mates, so I say they can stay in my house. It’s just a shame I won’t be there, cos we are up and at ’em and out the door by seven of the AMs, en route to Stanstead.
I hate Stanstead. It’s really awkward to get to and takes forever. I wonder if we should have gone with Wonky Sheep. They had chartered a flight from Cardiff and were travelling straight after the Turkey game. But the word around the campfire is that their plan was thwarted, not by striking air craft control, not by striking baggage handlers, but by some striking birds. Their chartered plane was, as they say in Swansea, like ‘Fatty’s Leg’.
No birds were harmed in the making of our journey to Stansted. Although it did take an eternity.
We were soon through security and on the lookout for a bar for the obligatory pre-flight pint.
There are an abundance of bars, but they all have massive queues to get in. By the time we got served our flight would have left so, for the first time in history, no pint was had. I humbly apologise. I’ve let you down, I’ve let the Red Wall down and I’ve let myself down.
When they announce which gate we are flying from, we see a herd of bucket hats rushing towards the gate. Then, after waiting patiently for fifteen minutes, they decided to use a different gate, and indeed, a different departure time. I message our airport taxi in Podgorica to let him know.
Ryan Air have this system known as ‘Priority Booking’, which means you can take more hand luggage. But as we form the queues for Priority and Non Priority, it appears that everyone has priority, which rather defeats the point of calling it ‘priority’.
When the plane is eventually ready, we enter from the rear (wash your mind out with soap), and squeeze ourselves into seats with the least amount of leg room possible. Megan turns to me and says; “Never flying from Stanstead again, never flying with Ryan Air again”.
The doors eventually close snd we prepare for take off. Then the doors open again and some mechanical apprentices that look about twelve years old board the plane. There’s an announcement about ‘technical issues’. It’s a bit vague. Someone suggests the air conditioning might be broken, cos it’s getting rather sauna-like on board.
After about an hour, the technical bods have ‘turned it off and turned it on again’, or changed the fan belt, ‘whacked it with a hammer’, or whatever technical bods do and we are off. Although it feels like we are driving all the way to Podgorica because we seem to taxi down the runway for twenty minutes.
Once in flight, Megan decided we need to compensate for the lack of pre-flight beverages by paying ridiculous prices for in-flight beverages.
Just as we are about to pour our gin and tonics into our cup of ice, we hit turbulence. It’s a tough job, but we manage to drink them anyway.
The cabin staff take the turbulence in their stride. Mincing up and down the aisles like roustabouts on the fair, walking around the Waltzers trying to impress the girls.
We strike up a conversation with Lee from Maesteg who is sat next to us. (Hello Lee if you’re reading. Apologies if it’s actually – Leigh.)
And three hours later, we land in Podgorica and kick the back doors open (you didn’t wash your mind, did you?)
Our taxi dude is friendly and helpful, although because we were two hours late, the drive to our apartment is a bit like the chase scene in the film Ronin. He’s got another pick up to get to & is double busy!
Our apartment host is patiently waiting for us. Before he shows us the apartment, he tells us the best things to see, do and drink, then shows us around the apartment. I have to say, at twenty quid a night, it’s a bargain. It’s clean and modern with air conditioning, although the telly seems to be stuck on showing endless reruns of football.
Then Megan displays one of the many traits that made me fall in love with her. She looks deeply into my eyes and says; “let’s go to that bar we spotted one hundred yards away”.
And so we did. And stayed there till they turned the lights out. It wasn’t a lively place, just a few locals sat outside quietly drinking beer and eating pizza. But it was just what we needed. An early night (well, early morning) so we could be up early to explore the most boring capital city in Europe. Allegedly. We will be the judge of that tomorrow.
At least we are here. As we go to bed Wonky Sheep are still waiting for a courtesy plane to turn up.