Memories of the World Cup in South Africa
The lights were turned off, there was virtually no one in the stadium and watched the video scoreboard. "Goodbye", said. A year ago ended the Football World Cup in South Africa. Then I thought that this was partly electronic bounce and mine. Curious, I'm still here.
I have thousands of memories associated with the event that brought me to southern South Africa. I once told him, but was in November 2009 in Buenos Aires, where he had gone with the desire to see if she had opportunity to stay there to live, and watching a football game on TV I thought "football!”. Three months and a half later flew to Cape Town and started to live here. How it all began, as they begin the best plans, those in which barely have time to put them on the map.
The World Cup was a flurry of excitement and freedom. Sorry for those who believe that football is just a ball trying to push eleven types. The World Cup is in my heart the night that after the Spain-Portugal ended up at the Cuban bar in Cape Town watching an average Spanish team got drunk at five o'clock surrounded by ladies of paid and unpaid. I remember the ethical discussion I had with two friends tell journalists about whether or not to tell. And we decided we did not spree with them until the small hours. Great Eduardo. You also see people walking down the street at night, fearless, while the terraces of the bars were filled with hours that just walk around shadows and sidewalks are candadas. Is listening to white South Africans groups ask how much is the minibus am. Never had caught many of them transport mainly reserved for blacks.
Three months and a half later flew to Cape Town and started to live here. How it all began, as they begin the best plans, those in which barely have time to put them on the map.
It also hear singing, with mixed colors, the anthem of South Africa. See them and surprise parties celebrating seeing who had been eliminated. They did it because they had managed to beat France. Defeat without defeat for the mud who builds houses. You remember how your party started, the day before it begin to roll ball, when noon came thousands to dance and play their vuvuzelas in the middle of the street. They celebrated that something was celebrated. No dancing, jumped.
You remember that police control in Swaziland where we stopped for speeding and just making pictures with the players as we said they were going to Spain. You see games in Brazil with most flooring company, Nayara y Michelle, bebíamoss mojitos while bad in a place that drove them crazy because the South Africans had thongs dancing samba. It is the party to which I invited my friend Delphine from France. You remember Natasa, my girl, that Bosnian, rojigualda dressed and wondering which way to attack Spain.
It is the silence and the day crying Uruguay Ghana eliminated. That day I understood more than ever what it means for Africans African concept. At the quarter-final was played the pride of a piece of land that runs from Ras ben Sakka (Tunisia) Hasta Cape Agulhas (South Africa), points north and south of the continent. BaGhana BaGhana encouraged people to their African brothers. The silence after the defeat was only, that night they celebrated as when South Africa was eliminated. (Imagine a European country en masse wearing shirts of his "brother" of continent. Do not do it, waste no time).
That day I understood more than ever what it means for Africans African concept. The silence after the defeat was only, that night they celebrated as when South Africa was eliminated.
Is the arrival of my friends Alberto and Dani and the spectacular trip we took from Johannesburg to Durban and back to Johannesburg on the trail of the coveted Cup. The car we went free after the Spain-Germany three strangers and left us on the other side of town without asking anything. It is the woman who wrote in the sand beach the hotel that we reserved her son, we stopped fishing and lost an hour of your time, to fetch a bed.
Is sms wrote to Del Bosque, the day before the final, thanks to Alberto had to chance your number. He knew nothing of us, did not know us, and had time to reply to an anonymous sms saying that we send will have three gorges with this sentence: "Thanks, enjoy the game ". You listen to my friend Dani tell Karembeu, the night we met before the final in a bar in Johannesburg, that "I had no fucking idea" as the guy told us that Spain would win only Torres and put gesture of "why balls then ask me anything". It is the interview that made us the three Indian television, crazy and fun, and which ended with a Finn who was very drunk singing opera while we put the reporter Spanish scarf over her head (the guy sent me the link of the video telling me that the video had been repeated several times in the channel and we were out at some zapping in your country). It's getting a bit old after the final spree, at five o'clock, Johannesburg airport and fell asleep on the chairs of the gate to Cape Town with a smile on my face remembering when months ago I told a group of friends "I'm going to South Africa to see Casillas lift the Cup". It's an excuse to live and travel for almost year and a half in Africa.
Comments (2)
ricardo
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Great, Java, great
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Ann
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Well hala, home, the party a year ago that ended…. If you ECHA less.. I think the team is good this year madrid. I do not know football as…
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