Burning the candle at both ends: a jam-packed day including lakes, picnics and football. And beers
It’s a funny old game. If your team scores first and the opposition equalise, it feels like you have lost. But if the opposition scores first and your team equalises, it feels like a victory.
But I’m getting ahead of myself here. The football was at the end of a very busy day. So let’s rewind.
The morning started with coffee. This time we had bought milk that we were certain was milk. It wasn’t. It was yogurt. Again. It went straight down the sink, bypassing the upset stomach phase, and we had black coffee instead.
We managed to leave the apartment to walk into town, without getting lost, and find the pick up point. We had booked this trip today for several reasons. Firstly, it’s a half day trip, we didn’t want a full day. Secondly, we didn’t do Monday because the cable car is closed and we didn’t pick Wednesday because we didn’t know what shape we would be in after the game. We don’t just throw these trips together you know, they are meticulously planned. Ish.
Turns out that not only is the cable car closed for maintenance every Monday, it’s also closed the last Tuesday of the month. Today, happens to be…. I don’t really need to complete this sentence.
But no matter: it’s warm, it’s dry, the sun is trying to shine, and and we are off out of the city with twelve other Wales fans and two Irish comrades. We head off in two minibuses. The tour guide drives one, and talks to the other van by having his phone on speaker phone. Simple, but effective.
We start off with the guide’s life story, then a history lesson. There’s a lot to take in. I love the Balkans and have visited most of the former Yugoslavian countries in recent years. The area’s ancient history is complicated and hard to absorb in one sitting. But whereas most of Western Europe has settled down and long-since decided where its borders are and what language they are going to speak, the Balkans have been in a state of flux until quite recently, with some underlying tensions still floating around.
Our guide refers to the country as Macedonia. He is a bit aggrieved that the country had to change its name to keep the Greeks happy in 2019. But he is proud of the fact that the country is a melting pot of ethnicities and religions and everyone gets on swimmingly. Well, most of the time. Mosques stand next to churches with no grief between them.
Interestingly, he makes a point of saying the different communities do not ‘tolerate’ each other: that would imply they just put up with each other. They ‘cohabit’ and treat each other all as neighbours.
We drive out into the sticks on severely potholed roads. Oddly, the drivers go to great lengths to avoid potholes, even if it means driving into oncoming traffic.
We eventually arrive at Makata Canyon. It’s the oldest man-made lake in the country. It was built to supply electricity to Skopje and to irrigate local farms. The Canyon is narrow so the dam is not very wide, but the water is quite deep.
There are dudes hiring out canoes and, after paying a small fee, we are climbing aboard a little boat with an outboard motor. We pootle our way up the reservoir noting occasional rustic shacks and boats that look like they have come off second in a fight with a crockerlion.
After twenty minutes we are waved off the boat onto some really dodgy steps that lead up to the entrance to a cave. The fittest of the gang get to the entrance and find the cave in darkness. We have to wait for the captain of our ship to walk up and fire up the diesel generator for the lights. The Dana Rogof National Show Cave of Wales this is not.
We descend into the bowels of the earth, take some photos of illuminated stalagmites and stalactites, then make our way back to the boat. The fact that we are all alive and no-one broke any bones falling over dodgy steps was more down to luck than judgement.
The guide points out another cave, which we can’t go down. It’s flooded. Divers have so far gone down 240m, but didn’t have enough gear to go further. They weren’t expecting it to be that deep. Another exhibition with a bigger snorkel is planned.
We then pootle back down to the dam. All in all, a jolly pleasant experience and a refreshing break from the inside of pubs.
We then head to an ancient Byzantine church, The Church of Saint Panteleimon, built 1164, which was oddly part of a hotel complex until recently, but is now part of a monastery.
There are some interesting paintings on the walls that our guide claims were the first works of art anywhere in the world to depict human beings showing emotion. They show several women & apostles weeping over the body of Christ.
The roof collapsed in the 16th century due to an earthquake, so the frescoes at the top of the church and on the reconstructed ceiling are several hundred years newer than the lower half.
In the grounds of the church there are great views over the city. In the distance we spot mountain cows. Next to the church we spot goats up in trees.
En route to the next stop the guide notices me taking photos of an old double decker bus. Apparently there had been double deckers, similar to those in London in use until the 1960s, when an earthquake resulted in the bus garage coming down on top of them crushing most of the fleet.
In 2010 the government decided to bring them back, but London busses were no use, because they are right hand drive, so a fleet of two hundred and seventeen left hand drive versions were purchased from China. The Young City Masters are a bit more angular and functional than their British cousins. At a cost of five hundred million euros, just like the statues, many questioned if the money could have been better spent.
Tantalisingly, next stop is the cable car, which is closed. But by way of compensation, our guide breaks out food and wine. Which was nice.
Apparently Macedonian wine used to be shite, but now it’s alright. The government offered scholarships to students to go abroad to learn how to make wine. Hundreds took up the offer. Some of them even came back. Before long the wine industry had pulled up its boots and was making wines that don’t make you blind. It’s now quite a sought after wine, but they don’t have the capacity to make a lot of it, which makes it expensive. No expense spared on this trip though and our cheese baguettes were washed down by a cheeky white.
Our final stop is basically a viewpoint overlooking the city and we learn more history of the city than my addled brain can absorb.
After out half day tour finished – to be honest, it wasn’t far off a full day – we hit the pub.
The Red Wall has well and truly landed now and there’s red shirts and bucket hats everywhere. We dive into the nearest pub to drop off point, as feet are starting to complain about overuse. I learn a bit about darts. Every time one fella goes the toilet or the bar the entire pub chants his name. Apparently Robbie Cross is the fourth best darts player in the world at the moment. I had a piss next to him at one point. Not bad for a boy from Cefn Fforest.
Eventually we start wandering down the river towards the stadium, stopping off at a sketchy looking riverside bar full of, mostly, Macedonian fans. There are a few Welsh in there though, including Les from Mold, who we keep company for a while. Eventually we wander to the stadium and find a pub attached to the ground called The English Pub. After contemplating finding somewhere more Macedonian, then deciding it has the advantage of literally being part of the stadium, we plot up and order food.
As the pub fills up we spot old friends and are soon joined by Posh n Becks, who have been clothes shopping to replace their clothes that are still in Warsaw.
Eventually we head into the stadium. Dispite having been drinking next to the ground for three hours, we only just make it in time for the anthems.
The Tose Proeski Stadium only has a capacity of thirty two thousand but looks much bigger. It feels more modern and away fan friendly than most East European stadiums I’ve visited. Both home fans and away fans are making a lot of noise. However the stadium falls silent before kick off for a minutes reflection on the sad loss of the fifty-nine that died in the night club fire last week.
Silence over, the game kicks off and we are given a display of ninety minutes of mediocre football with neither side capable of hitting a cow’s arse with a banjo.
We have to wait for the ninety first minute for a goal, and the home end erupts while the away end collectively put their heads in their hands. It’s too late to pull anything back. Or is it? A few minutes later the home end goes mild as Brooks tears them apart with a ninety sixth minute equaliser. It’s a one-one draw but it sort of feels like a win. Ish.
We are held back by riot police for ages before being pushed back towards the city centre where all the pubs were closed. Not sure if this was because football fans were in town or if it was because it was now approaching midnight.
We head back to the apartment and collapse in a slightly exhausted heap.