Our trip is winding down, but the Round of 16 is just getting started.
Yesterday's Brazil game featured both figurative and literal fireworks.
Today, we plan to get part-way to the arena to watch the Netherlands-Mexico match-up at 1:00 before heading to the last game we'll watch in Recife, Costa Rica vs ersatz Cinderella, Greece.
We meet our friends, Nina and Bia, near FanFest in central Recife.
There is a big screen in the courtyard, but it is hot in the sun and we're hungry. So we opt to watch the game in the adjacent food court, where there are several small screens and many Mexican fans.
There are six of us, but I have only four tickets to the game. Our friends plan to accompany us out to the stadium to just see what it is like. The World Cup may not return to their country for another 64 years. May they live to see it in 2078!
On the way through the crowd, I spot some Germans selling an extra ticket at face value. Lacking any marquee teams, and with most Ticos having already seen a game in Recife last week, the game is not in high demand, but some people are still holding out hope to recoup their investment.
An obvious scalper asks me if I'm Greek. Although my complexion resembles Chobani, no one has ever mistaken me for being Greek.
We head inside the mall where there is an ice rink. A dozen Brazilians, who cheat death at every turn, are wearing helmets as they stagger around the small rink, just in case a hockey game suddenly breaks out. (Old joke: "I was at a boxing match the other night and a hockey game broke out.")
We make our way to the food court and pull together a table for six...five chairs on one side and the odd chair on the other, so most of us have a better view of the flat-screen. The anthems are playing. Someone asks me to sit down, in a mall food court before the game has even started, because people here care that much about soccer, and he wants an unobstructed view.
We take turns watching each others bags as people pick their meal from the myriad choices. No one is enraptured by the game, but this is one of the biggest matches to date. Mexico has been playing well of late, and Netherlands is likely to make it to the Final in Rio.
The partisan crowd occasionally oohs and ahhs. I'm busy getting food and really don't watch the match. I'm planning an early exit to try to get extra tickets for this afternoon's match. I sneak back down to FanFest but find no viable sellers.
We will leave the mall and the televised game about midway through the second half to allow time to take mass transit out to the stadium. I am surreptitiously facebooking like crazy trying to find some tickets for my friends. It is unclear how badly they want to go to the game and at what price.
A bedraggled middle-aged blonde woman searches about for a seat in the food court, asking if people are using various chairs. Somehow, we have an extra and invite her to sit with us. She is German but speaks fluent English and a good bit of Spanish. She tells us she is following Germany's MNT around, and has been staying in hostels by herself. Our Brazilian friends have little idea what she is saying. We've seen many solo male travelers and many women accompanying them, but it is still a heavily male environment. My mind races at the thought of a late 40's (early 50's?) American woman following the USMNT around Brazil by herself. It doesn't seem possible. She has a glazed, hippyish look, but other than being in Brazil alone, she seems perfectly lucid.
She is catching a flight that night at 2:00 am to see Germany play in another city and is skipping this afternoon's game in Recife so as not to miss her plane (the seven hour buffer seems plenty, and nothing else about her seems risk averse). She tells us of a friend she met in a hostel who is giving away three tickets to today's game. My friends' ears perk up (at least the one who speaks some English). How much are the tickets?! Yes, they are free as in beer, but the German frau's friend may have given them away already. He is supposedly at FanFest next door. She will try to find him and bring him back to the food court.
It is really time to leave, but Mexico has made the first match of the day interesting with the go-ahead goal (1-0) vs the favored Netherlands. We really should go.
My son asks if we can watch the end of the match. The food court is suddenly rapt, but the clock is winding down. With less than ten minutes to go, can Mexico pull the upset? No, it is not to be, but an earth-shattering comeback is in the offing. Netherlands equalizes late in the game and then scores the game-winner on a PK in stoppage time. Opa! Good thing too, because we didn't have time to stay for overtime.
We head downstairs and find the German woman at FanFest. No luck, her friend is not there. We head to the metro that will take us to the stadium. We walk through neighborhoods we wouldn't chance without a Brazilian escort. Our tourista-ness rubs off on them and they become targets as well. We cross a bridge and admire the view, and our Brazilian friends haggle on our behalf for some sunglasses outside the metro.
We make it to the last metro stop and get a shuttle bus to the arena itself. Immediately, there are people selling tickets, and my Brazilian friends are clearly trying to find some. They know many things about Brazil, but they aren't really familiar with ticket prices and the availability, which varies wildly from game to game.
No, we won't pay full price we tell the first few offerers. A nice Hispanic man offers us tickets at about 2/3 face value. No, my friends say, too expensive, especially with the weak Real. It is still 30 minutes before kickoff, which isn't a lot of time to find our seats, especially if there is a problem with the tickets.
We stride closer to the stadium. The Hispanic gent still hasn't sold his two tickets. I offer him half price and he reluctantly accepts. American greenbacks to the rescue again. I ask, "These tickets are good, right?" He speaks fluent English and says, "They have my name on them!," which he appears to take very seriously. His sacred oath that the tickets bearing his name are valid seems good enough. I ask him to count the money, and we complete the transaction.
My son and I will sit in the two extra seats. My wife, daughter, and two friends will sit in our original four seats.
I explain to my Brazilian friends that we have procured tickets for them. Bia understands immediately and is smiling ear-to-ear. She is very excited to see the game. We all hug. They have been such great hosts, it will be wonderful to watch the game with them. Nina seems unclear on why we are hugging. It takes a few more minutes of translation, and as the facts-on-the-ground wash over her, her face suddenly breaks into a huge smile.
We laugh and take pictures as we head toward the security lines. Best investment of the trip.
I make sure each of the four tickets gets the four women into the stadium. They haven't been checking IDs, and there is no problem. The ladies are inside and smiling broadly. My daughter asks for her glasses and camera from my bag, and we part ways.
My son and I ("Manuel" and "Efren" for the moment) need to enter at a nearby gate. I remind him to speak only in Spanish. I high-five my son as we pass through the turnstiles. He reminds me to play it cool until we are around the corner out of sight.
We find our way to our seats, where we have a lively conversation with an American and Australian.
The Australian leaves with about 5 minutes to go in regulation but comes back when he hears the stadium roar at Costa Rica's equalizer.
The match turns out to be one helluva game. It goes into overtime and finally penalties. We definitely got our money's worth.
It is already well past 8 pm. We make our way back via shuttle buses and metro trains. On the way back, our friends arrange for us to meet their families at a nearby restaurant. I hear my friend refer to us as her "familia americano," when talking to her sister by phone. I smile. We arrive around 9:30.
Their family is wonderful. The younger generation all speak English, as do some American friends of theirs, also visiting for the World Cup. A grand time is had by all. My kids are happy to speak some English, as all the language barriers can be difficult at times. But they are happiest talking about Tosh.0 and not having to translate the cultural references.
Our friend's nephew drives us home, but not before inviting my son to play soccer with him tomorrow.
It is past midnight. Our German acquaintance has missed the fun but not her flight. She will arrive at 6 am in Porte Alegre, in plenty of time to see Germany beat Algeria in the cool evening air.
Another soccer-heavy day tomorrow.
Boa noite!
No comments:
Post a Comment