TO THE SEVEN
STARS AND BACK by Philip Taylor (MFC Exiles Club Newsletter 8) |
Glasgow Airport's proximity allowed me to awaken less early yet check in before most of the Motherwell support on our recent trip to the Kouvola region of Finland.
In an area unknown to most, would we watch Motherwell perform something unknown to all? Against MyPa overcome a 3-1 defeat at home.
For the first time I was visiting Finland; supporting Motherwell abroad; travelling by supporters' bu. Would these reasons alone make my trip worthwhile?
Having linked up with Stuart Harvey at the
airport, we were efficiently conveyed to Helsinki on board our Sudan
Air Ops Europe plane. there my questions were beginning to be
answered. It was as sunny and warm as in Glasgow. The cottages
hiding amongst the trees evoked happy memories of outback
Canada's peacefulness. the forest would open up periodically to
reveal farmland before woodland once again enclosed our route to
Kouvola. yet one feature never hidden was how flat Finland
looked.
On the railway line to St. Petersburg in the former Soviet Union, Kouvola is a major railway terminal, a museum exists to support this fact. Army cadets mill around the station area in uniforms eerily reminiscent of WWII Germany.
However when entering Kouvola the time warp takes you back decades. 1950's architecture predomiates, and at the risk of sounding too much like the Prince of Wales, makes the village (even Helsinki is a village to the Finns) drab and featureless. One exception surrounds the impressive Culture Centre still smelling of being newly built it introduced the oldest houses in Kouvola, now used as museums.
The village sells itself on one other feature. By shutting the streets to cars in summer, Motherwell supporters could take to the bars that form in the middle of the road. One in particular got more than it bargained for. Our claret and amber (and black and white) tops were not colourful enough so Carluke can be proud of its flags bedecking the outside of a kiosk bar thereby reinforcing our presence.
The nightlife occurred in two spots. Either the exotic bar with dancers displaying the "talents" of exotic Estonia!! The boys from the press looked on. Or else in the hotel's comfortable bar where the members of the Fourth Estate were all too ready to air their views - "Is 'Big Eck' looking for another goalkeeper?" As an "exile" it amused me to note BBC'S Richard Gordon's perplexity whilst chatting to a group of 'Well supporters, not one resident in Scotland.
Much football was talked about before retiring to bed in the small hours of Tuesday morning to refresh in time for breakfast where the talk of resumed. Nobody in our group spoke Finnish so asking the hotel's staff to translate the morning paper's build up to the game was my only option. This was done with growing enthusiasm, translating in increasing detail and volunteering to return to find further accounts to relate each time Stuart and I passed the reception.
This enthusiasm reflected the warm hospitality we all encountered. From the "village" drunk on Monday afternoon through to the MyPa fans who could afford to commiserate with us at the final whistle.
For some, contacts were made to continue this new found friendship. For all, the numerous memories of what was oh so near!