FRANK McNALLY'S EURO 2012 ROAD TRIP Days 4-6THE FIRST impression of Poland, when you drive into it from Germany, is that the country must be empty. The roads are much the same – it's like a continuation of the autobahn all the way to Poznan. The surroundings don't change either: the same corridor of tall, skinny trees for 100 miles either side of the border.
But once you hit Poland, the traffic disappears. On the German side, articulated trucks are bumper to bumper in the slow lane; it’s always busy in the middle and if you venture into the fast lane, you risk being hit by a Porsche doing 120mph. Whereas in Poland, you have the road to yourself, or nearly. You might see a lorry every two or three miles.
The impression of emptiness lasted as far as the first (and only) roadside McDonald’s between Poznan and the frontier where, on Saturday afternoon, a legion of Irish campervans had pulled in for food and zlotys.
Poland became gradually populated thereafter. The empty look disappeared completely an hour later when we wound through the crowded streets of Poznan towards the even more crowded Campervan Village.
Space would have been scarce in the village whatever happened, but the last-minute collapse of one of the other city campsites – closed down by officials for not complying with standards – sent a wave of refugees in its direction.
By Saturday night, in terms of population density, the village was starting to look like the old Warsaw Ghetto.
The hosts scrambled a few extra shower and toilet units to deal with the strain. They must have ordered extra beer too – it flowed all night and was still available yesterday morning for those people – not unusual in football-fan villages – who enjoy a pint over breakfast. Even so, from the toilets to the molasses-speed broadband, the facilities were stretched.
It was no place for the faint- hearted. Whether it was any place for women, faint-hearted or otherwise, is a question still being debated by two close relatives of mine, part of a female minority amounting to an estimated 1 per cent of the camp population.
Despite the good roads that lead to Poznan, many of the travellers arrived with epic tales from the road. Take the lads travelling from Tubbercurry in the now-famous converted ambulance.
There was no mistaking them when they pulled in. As planned, they were blasting Irish football ballads through the adapted siren, a sound every bit as alarming as you’d imagine.
Only the rest of the journey had been improvised. Their Rosslare- Cherbourg sailing was cancelled at the last minute, so they had to go to Fishguard instead and make a six-hour drive across Wales and England, where the cross-channel ferries were also all delayed because of bad weather.
Even the original schedule had been cutting it fine.
Happily, the decommissioned ambulance was used to dealing with stressful situations and delivered them safely to the campsite where, last night, the condition of the occupants was said not to be life-threatening.
Then there were the lads from Limerick, travelling in a 25-year- old van. They forgot to replace the dipstick when they left and lost their oil in the first 10 miles. Later, dipstick restored, the engine developed a leak anyway. There was nothing for it but to keep going, slowly, and top up as they went along. After much coaxing, that van made it to Poznan, having left a trail of oil back to Limerick.
Only the odd Croatian-coloured vehicle passed us en route and the Campervan Village is 100 per cent Irish – so it came as a shock to discover that the opposition were here in big numbers.
They were outnumbered and out-sung in the old town square on Saturday night, but by yesterday morning, the Croats were in control there and doing most of the singing.
This is probably a reflection on the different hours kept by the rival fans. The Irish are not at their best early in the day.
Here in the ghetto, they drank and sang into the very late hours of Sunday morning.
By that time the few campervans that contained wives, daughters and girlfriends had one thing in common with many of the male supporters on site – they were well and truly locked.