We then hung out with my cousin for a minute before returning to home base to prepare for the game. We met the maids who decided to catch a ride with us.
It was then time to change into fight gear, complete with face paint, vuvuzelas, and flags.
After a round of pictures, we stuffed the car with babies, diapers, flags, and wild fans, and were off to Soccer City.
The one complaint (of very few) I have about driving around the city for the World Cup is the painful lack of signage. When one sign shows parking, only to find out that this particular parking is for those who purchased Park and Ride tickets, and even though the sign says nothing about pre-purchasing.
So after one too many turns, stops, and lights, we finally found parking, got on a shuttle, and made our way to the stadium. Needless to say, the term minority was oh-so appropriate. We were a touch of Orange White. Green in a sea of yellow and green. It was interesting.
Getting into the stadium was a breeze. We took lots and lots of pictures of our group, but also of many random fans who were trying to make sense of this very curious group of fans. 1356 pictures later, we walked into the stadium. The atmosphere was electrifying. Soccer City had morphed into a Selecao meccah. When the announcer went through the Brazil roster, the crowd was wild. Then came a great moment: the announcer started the Ivorian roster with Drogba. At that point, the entire Soccer City erupted into a frenzy of deafening cheers, a cacophonic vuvuzela tuning match, and all this for a good few seconds. At that very time, the sense of pride that engulfed me (and I bet a few others) was only as overwhelming as the pace of my heartbeat.
A special mention here for the true stars of this whole experience. Mariam and Caleb have handled this trip head and shoulders above and beyond our wildest hopes. I lost count of how many people wanted to take pictures of this curious bunch. The kids were true champs, and it was a blast sharing this experience with them.
Despite the lopsided score, the iffy refereeing (he was French for crying out loud), and a choppy finish, this game will undoubtedly remain in our minds as one of best memories. Being in the presence of such great players, with such great people, and in such an amazing venue all contributed to enhance our time here. I do hjave to say though that I hope the Ivory Coast sends out better fans next time because the ones who were there, were a joke. Yves and I made more noise, got that side of the stadium more excited, and supported the team way more than the few hundred or so so-called fans, dressed in silly orange Siberian blizzard gear, who were sitting around the stadium in clusters. Pathetic.
We could not seem to take enough pictures with fans. People were amazed when they saw Yves in full gear, holding Mariam, with Adis and her wig next to them. By then, Caleb had found a way to finish his bottle and fall asleep in the comfort of Kim's back. Truly special.
The ride home was uneventful, save for the stop at Wimpy (the local Steak and Shake/McD's) off the motorway, where we witnessed a car swirving widly into the exit ramp (known here as a chicane), and hitting a post that essentially prevented it from rolling over and ending in a ditch several yards down. Apparently here, people would rather all rush to someone's help before even thinking about calling for help.
While most of us quickly drifted to sleep after we got home, a few of us watched replays after replays to soak it all in.
A truly unforgettable evening.
Mathieu
It's just fantastic that you saw this game! We watched some of it on TV and we were thinking of you, but we didn't know you were actually there!
ReplyDeleteI was explaining the game to Allie (even though I don't fully understand soccer). I said, "Look, the yellow team has the ball and now the green team is trying to get it." Then I asked her, as a test: OK, which team has the ball now. We saw a couple of scores, so that was exciting (for Brazil, sorry!)
How was the noise factor from those zuzuela thingies?