It is now Day 11 of the World Cup Tournament and we are
holding up well considering the pain and suffering we are putting ourselves
through, alongside the constant physical abuse our bodies are taking. Each day over
the past 11 days we have been subjected to as many as 3 televised games, some
of which we have been able to watch from the comfort of our ocean-side apartment,
in between cooling dips in swimming in the pools or hours of idle swinging in
the hammock. But for some matches, particularly
for those involving teams we actively support, (this list of teams grows at
each World Cup), these matches have had to be watched in a bar, just for the
added atmosphere and camaraderie you understand? Mercifully we have found a bar
not more than 7 short minutes walk away, not just any bar, no, not some tucked out
of the way bar on some non-descript side street, but probably the biggest, busiest
and loudest bar on the whole waterfront in
Live match days are no better..... All of our games here in
Fortaleza start at 4:00pm, and because we nearly always want to watch the preceding
game at 1:00pm, we have to leave the apartment at 11:00am. This involves a 20 minute
walk in the nearly midday sun to the bus staging area, which should under no
circumstances be attempted without the right precautions being taken, which generally
means buying at least 2 cans of beer from the street vendors on the way. The
bus trip itself is about 45 minutes and is sometimes riskily attempted without
a beer..., a situation that is immediately remedied when we get off the bus
with the assistance of more locally provided street vendors. From there it is a
short walk to a bar we have begun to frequent, with adequate seating, a large
screen TV and another supply of beers, (although on one trip they did
run-out..!!). Arriving about 12:30pm, it is
here we set up our base camp to
watch the early game for the next few hours, endlessly whiling away our time
with more beer, and the occasional local delicacy of a meat product in a deep-fried
doughy ball. Once the early game is finished, we start our approach to the Castelao
Stadium, an almighty edifice of glass and steel that seems almost like a mirage
looming large through the heat haze in the distance. Queuing, more queuing, and
we are in, we have reached our ‘El Dorado’, and the sense of anticipation increases
as we make our ascent with nothing but a view of grey concrete, which is soon replaced
by a deep sensation of achievement when the view opens out into the verdant hue
of the pitch lying majestically below us. We watch the game.....
Unless we are rushing to see the later game, we will mill
about our seats for a short while to allow the crowds to ebb away and discuss
the match we have just seen. Slowly we will descend the narrow walkways, drift
down through the darkened bowels of the stadium, finally spilling out on to the
concourse and then to the road beyond. A pit stop at our bar for re-supply is
nearly always called for, even though the searing heat and temperatures may
have dropped a degree or two with the warm
blanket of darkness now falling. We
steal ourselves for the rugby scrum that is the queue for the bus back to the
city, but we are now all old-hands at this inhumane lottery and with patience,
luck and a beer-in-hand, we can generally score a seat or two on the bus. There
is nothing left to do when we get back to the city but to find a restaurant, a
cold bottle of wine and maybe a finely cooked morsel, before returning to the
apartment for a late night swim and then bed......
Such dedication to the hard job at hand. You would not do it any other way :-)
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