So, last Friday, we attended the Italy-Costa Rica game in Recife (dramatized here).
I woke up early (I've been getting up between 5 and 6 a.m. all week), and blogged a bit, which helps me assimilate all the new info.
We love the Easy Taxi app, and summoned one from our apartment where we have WiFi. The taxis arrive in under 5 minutes, so we barely had time to summon the elevator and get downstairs. Downstairs we had no internet to track its location, so knowing if our taxi was coming was a bit vague, but it worked out.
We had gotten directions from a local friend, who suggested we take a taxi to the subway station a few miles away. He advised against walking to a closer station, saying it would require passing through a "fovella" (slum).
Taxi took us to station easily (about R$10, or $5 US), and there were many World Cup volunteers there, ready to assist. For R$7.50 (under $4 US), we each got a roundtrip subway ticket, which included a bracelet for the bus transfer closer to arena.
We took first subway, which wasn't too crowded, to the transfer station in city center.
Along the way, we chatted with many Costa Rican and Italian fans, including an American couple wearing competing jerseys (he from Costa Rica and she from Italy).
At the transfer station, we lost contact with the crowd heading towards Arena Pernambuco. I let our teens lead the way, and they wandered out the turnstiles towards the street, not realizing that you don't exit a subway if you still need to transfer to another line.
I yelled "stop" before they went through the turnstiles, but it was too late. My wife and I exited as well, so as not to get separated in the crowd.
Some nice attendants gladly let us back in through an open gate. The staff was very helpful and friendly (see here for details on the Brazilian preparedness), but I was annoyed.
I brought my kids over to a corner and basically started yelling at them that they need to pay more attention to signs and their surroundings. (We had already had several pre-trip security briefings about watching your valuables, avoiding handling money and cell-phones in public, etc.).
The day before, my kids were at the beach with Brazilian chaperones, where all sorts of vendors come to sell things. Despite buying a dozen snacks, etc. from vendors, they never saw any money change hands, thanks to their hosts' skill at concealing overt cash transactions. Apparently, American crack dealers and patrons slipping a $20 to a maitre d could learn a thing or two from the average Brazilian.
So there I am growling at my kids when a Brazilian TV crew approaches to ask if we love Brazil. Several embarrassing dance steps later, I'm in a conga line while my kids are being interviewed on national TV. Some Brazilian friends said they saw us on the news (Globo TV?) We'll undoubtedly never get the tape, but I'm told my daughter has had her 15-minutes of fame already. Does mine await?
Anyway, we eventually rushed to our train towards the Arena. The subway car was packed like a NYC rush hour. Ariel couldn't stand the heat, nor leave the kitchen, and felt quite faint. I should have asked some guy to cede his seat, but opted to hold her up for the last 20 minutes of the ride.
Reaching the subway station for the metro, we de-trained, and rested on a bench while hydrating until Ariel felt better.
There were many buses waiting to transfer us a few miles to the stadium, which is built in what looks to be a very poor area, basically in the middle of nowhere, about 30 minutes outside of Recife. There are three professional teams with stadia in the city center, but maybe they are too small to host WC games?
Stadium was very relaxed. See details on the logistics here.
The match between Italy and Costa Rica wasn't a barn-burner, but it was a fun experience nonetheless. We were in an Italian section with some passionate fans, and we gestured and fumed at every call that went against Italy. In the end, the Cost Hicans prevailed 1-0.
My family was thrilled by the experience, but I knew that the much more exciting matches lay ahead.
After the match, we had about a 40-minute wait for the bus from the stadium, which isn't as bad as it sounds. The weather is perfect, and there are many interesting people to talk to in any language you can fake.
We resolved on the return trip to wait at the front of the line, even if
it meant missing a bus or subway, to assure a seat on the next one. We took bus back to subway, and subway back to city center transfer station, still about 20 minutes from home.
We decided to get out and walk to find a restaurant, but it was getting dark (it gets dark before 6 here in the winter). We wandered across a bridge and chatted with an equally lost Australian couple about my age. They had little interest in my age, so we chatted about other stuff too. How they navigated Brazil for two weeks without any local contacts and not a word of Portuguese, is beyond me.
Like Joseph Conrad, I led them further up river in search of a restaurant until their eyes widened with every step. Clearly uncomfortable with pressing forward, they decided to turn back.
We realized there were no restaurants in this part of town (just street food, but we wanted to get off the street).
We have come to consider "Shopping" (malls) oases of security and peace. After asking about five shopkeepers, we finally made it to one of the many tourists malls.
We each picked a different buffet in the food court. I picked the one that serves towers of bear, up to four liters. In truth, they all serve beer, but I liked their buffet, and they were friendly, and they carried my tower of lager across the food court for me.
It was a long but exciting day.
We took a taxi home (luckily there was a reputable taxi stand just outside the mall) and R$30 ($15 US) later, we were back home, safely in our apartment.
Boa noite!
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