The Prophet of Lyon

The little time I spent in Lyon left me with the impression that it resembles Cluj - maybe a Cluj 100 years into the future, but nonetheless some sort of Cluj. The city's topography, with its perched 5th Arrondisment, and the Place Bellecour, which bears a striking resemblance to Piata Unirii, down to the mounted horse statue, helped cement that notion. But this is not what this post is about.

On the 19th of June we made our way to the fanzone located in the aforementioned Bellecour. We walked down from the 5th on the Avenue Point du Jour to the Rue de la Favorite, and finally, somewhere in a little street, we ran into some kids playing in an alley on the side of a small building. We were dressed in Romania fan attire; jerseys, flag, clown hair, and good cheer. "Allez les Jaunes!" I chanted. But I was wearing the red Romania jersey and that probably didn't make much sense.

One of the kids eyed us suspiciously. "D'ou etes vous - where are you from?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. When I told him he said, "You're going to lose, Romania is going to lose! Portugal is going to win the Euro! Le Portugal va gagner!" I did what any sane person who'd watched Portugal play, and struggle with ties, against Iceland and Austria in arguably the most accessible group of the competition would do. I laughed in that little bastard's face. I laughed and went on my merry way, chanting "ROOO-MA-NIII-AA!"

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