Recife - Monday June 23

After an exhausting Sunday in which we watched (on big-screen TV at FanFest) the US tie Portgual...we weren't too ambitious on Monday morning.

We slept in and looked forward to the Mexico-Croatia match in the late afternoon.

We took a cab to the metro station, then the metro to city center, then another cab to a local mall ("Shopping" in Portuguese...seriously). Oh, we saw our Brazilian Ru Paul friends at the metro stop. After yesterday's museum education, we recognized one of their hats was in the style of Luiz Gonzaga. I motioned to his hat and said "Luiz Gonzaga" and they squealed with delight, as if it was an Elvis sighting.

Our plan was to watch the  Chile-Netherlans game on a small screen at the mall while eating lunch. The metro attendant who spoke perfect English took one look at us and advised we take a cab rather than walk through town. We found a cab out front, but in Brazil, nothing is straightforward. Two other cars were having a face-off in a one-way road. Our cabbie had to do a 17-point turn and go the wrong way up the one-way loop to get us away from the station.

There is a saying in Boston..."Most traffic accidents are caused by two cars trying to hit the same pedestrian." Boston ain't got nothing on Brazil; almost hitting buses, motorcycles, and pedestrians is par for the course on every cab ride.

Turns out, the mall was right next to FanFest, so the kids watched the game on the big screen while we searched for a way to get some Brazilian cash (Real, plural Reais, whose symbol is R$ or just $).

FanFest was nearly deserted compared to the FratFest it was the night before.

Getting cash in Brazil is quite a challenge. My bank card didn't work in my bank's ATM (I think it has something to do with 4-digit PIN codes vs 5-digit ones). None of my credit cards worked, despite bearing the Maestro and Cirrus logos.

Luckily, we found a "Cambio" and it was good old American greenbacks to the rescue! It was running about R$2.25 per $1 USD (since dropped to R$2.20) but we were happy with the $R2.10 we received, which would give us enough cash for the day.

We ate lunch, watched most of the Netherlands game, and took a taxi back to the metro.

From there, we repeated our earlier march to the arena...metro to shuttle bus to walking to seats.

We met many happy, friendly Mexico fans. The Croatians were a bit edgier. Mexico was all but guaranteed to go through to the next round, but Croatia was likely out of the tourney.

At the game, it was a sea of green. The Mexicans sang constantly and laughed frequently. My daughter's favorite part was speaking a lot of Spanish with the other fans. An ugly fight broke out at one point (thanks for the amazing video, Eric!), but that was the only violence we've seen at the games in Recife. (All the noise you hear in the background is the other fans just cheering for the game.)

Mexican fans were enjoying it immensely. Croatia, not so much.

Here is a story I call: "Don't f*ck with Mirko Cro Cop"

I was trying to get to the men's room at half-time, but the line was really long. As I stood there contemplating my bladder capacity, a guy and girl dressed in Croatia jerseys both went into the women's bathroom. The guy just looked clueless. Women in the bathroom entrance started pointing to him to leave...I was standing by the sign with a picture of a woman on it, and I just pointed to it to make sure he knew it was the women's bathroom. He looks at me, and without pausing says "F*ck you. F*ck you! What are you, f*ckin' security!?!" It was then, I recognized him as the oft-sighted Druncus Americanus. A local attendant (woman) pointed him towards the men's room. He gave her no flak. Walking away, he turned around and screamed one more "F*CK YOU!" for good measure. The heavily armed police 20 feet away didn't bother looking up during the whole incident.

I figured it best to just pretend I didn't speak English...which put me in the majority.

Back to our main story line...

But it was Brazil's night and on the way home, we saw many celebratory bonfires.

Arriving at the metro stop closest to our home, we decided to take a taxi to a restaurant that had been recommended.

Breaking our "Only use Easy Taxi" rule, we found a cab outside the metro station. He didn't know how to get to the restaurant, but we found a cab that did.

The driver did not turn on his fare meter. He motioned with two fingers and I knew he wanted R$20 as a flat rate. I said no and pointed to meter but he ignored me. He knew the restaurant we wanted to go to, so we reluctantly got in.

He got us to the restaurant quickly,and I estimated the fare to be about R$10. We got out of the taxi and looked in the restaurant for someone to speak English but couldn't find one. I gave the driver R$10, and he asked for more. We played dumb and went into the restaurant. He followed us in and showed $5 US (asking for $5 US more). The restaurant staff dealt with him. I don't know if they just gave him the cash (it was a high-end restaurant that was very service-oriented). My son was worried for the rest of the night that the taxi driver would be waiting outside. Moral of the story, get out of the cab if the meter is not turned on. Pay the extra R$10, because the driver will follow you into the restaurant and make a scene.

Anyway, we managed to have lovely dinner (our first real sit-down dinner at a European-style restaurant). Service and food was impeccable, but it took my son 2/3 of the meal to find his appetite.

Enough drama for one day...trusted taxi home in the pouring rain, and collapse into bed.

Boa noite!