Only Two Years?

Heartbroken after the game last night, I decided to sell my tickets for the Quarterfinal match in Soccer City.  Shady business in the mall, but no cops in sight.  While no part of me wanted the US to lose last night, I am happy that the only African nation is still alive.  Not happy enough to watch them play at Soccer City against Uruguay. 

George - who I met at the Algeria game - flew up from Cape Town to meet me in Rustenburg and use my extra ticket.  While the South Africans had backed the US in all of their games up to this point, there was an expected change in loyalty against Ghana.  Accompanied by many bitter Brits who thought they'd be watching their own team, the bulk of the crowd was behind the Black Stars of Ghana.

I just arrived in Bloemfontein - smack dab in the middle of this country - for my second couchsurfing experience.  I'm sold, by the way, on this mode of travel.  Gerhard and his friends were splendid hosts for 4 nights in Pretoria, even picking me up at 4am this morning upon my return from the game (I told you Rustenburg is awful).  It's not very often you find a group of friends in another country that you know would easily fit in with your group of friends back home.  Gerhard and company were educated but humble, fun but not crazy, and always made for great conversation.  Over the course of 4 days, we talked a fair amount about race relations in South Africa.  "To fully understand it, you'd have to live here for two years," said one roommate.  I would be thrilled if I could begin to comprehend such a complex issue in 2 years.  I'm even nervous to attempt to tackle the issue in a blog.  Maybe next time.

Heading to Lesotho tomorrow for 3 days.  Hitching a ride with three sad Brits (lost to Germany 4-1 today) and a hitchhiking legend from Russia.

When grown men cry

Crazy things can happen at a World Cup.  The US team had already packed their bags, ready to hop on the next flight home.  Only injury time was left....4 minutes.  Landon Donovan somehow found the back of the net as the crowd went wild in disbelief.  It wasn’t a pretty goal - just a putback after the last of several close shots.  but it was a goal.  1-nil.

I went into the stadium with George, a tall soccer fanatic from California who made me ashamed to admit my limited knowledge of the US players - their club teams, hometowns, strengths, etc.  We met just minutes before the game when we combined our extra tickets to make a pair to sell to a father and son.  This, naturally, occurred just minutes after my hour-long scalping debut in South Africa culminated in two police officers escorting me behind a police truck to interrogate me regarding my extra ticket.  I was trying to sell it for under face value, but I quickly learned this still can get you arrested.  They didn’t accept a simple “I didn’t know” nor an apology.  They kept me for a long 5 minutes, looked through my bag, and ended by saying “I am a man, you are a man.  We can arrest you right now.  You must not sell that ticket.”  I asked if I could give it away, which became my plan as they let me go, shaken up and on the verge of tears.  

There have been no reports of arrests for scalping, so I figured it was just a scare tactic.  Mission accomplished.  It was only by chance that I ran into George and sold the ticket in under a minute for a crisp ben franklin on my way to the gate.  He was a fast-talking, beer-drinking, blackberry addict that could not have made for better company for this game.  After the game he was not the only fan who broke down.  Across the aisle was a man clutching his son, crying uncontrollably, tears smearing the red, white, and blue face paint.

George took my number and may use my extra ticket with me in Rustenburg.  which reminds me.... i’m headed to Rustenburg.  ugh.  It should be another amazing game, with the US to face Ghana, the only remaining African nation in the first World Cup on African soil.  I didn’t want to go back to Rustenburg.  It’s cold, ugly, nearly impossible to get to/from the venue, and it messes up my travel plans for the next 10 days.  But the US advanced with the most exciting boring goal I have ever witnessed.  It's impossible not to be high on victory right now.

Race relations continue to fascinate me here.  Soweto 2 days ago and all-white gatherings last night are also worth their own entries, but I’m trying not to write a book here.  

Alone in Africa

Mike had to go back to his cubicle in Minnesota so i am now on my own, without a car, without a companion, without an idea of what to do next.  so it goes.  I'm staying with Suz and Tony in Joburg for a couple more nights before 'running solo' will really set it - riding buses, walking around aimlessly, maneuvering stadiums, etc.

Before he left, we went back to Ellis Park to watch perhaps the best game of the tourney thus far.  After the game, Suz congratulated us on a US victory.  When Tony got home he lamented a tough loss for the US squad.  In fact neither was true.  Tony apparently just watched the first half, when Slovenia stunned the US with 2 goals.  Half of their population of 2 million appeared to be in the stands.  Suz must have stopped watching when the US capped an amazing comeback with a last minute goal to go ahead 3-2.  With beer flying everywhere, strangers hugging each other, and vuvuzelas reaching unprecedented levels, we noticed that Slovenia was taking a goal kick.  The ref called a foul on the play.  no goal.

On a different note, we got a glimpse of south africa under apartheid over the last few days.  At a bar in Graskop we met a chubby middle-aged white man with apartheid still flowing through his veins.  The first red flag was when he said he wanted any result that would be bad for bafana bafana - unheard of in these lands.  Then, as the French team was introduced, he was disgusted that so many non-French players were on the team.  "they should all go back to africa."  I responded in my head, "you're white, perhaps you should go back to europe."  i remained tight-lipped.  Then he argued with Mike about the vuvuzelas being a 'cultural thing.'  He insisted they were a 'black thing,' apparently unaware of the realities of his country.  He left before the Mexico-France game was underway, and everyone in the bar seemed relieved. 

Two days later, we went to the Apartheid Museum outside of Soweto, which was amazing, chilling, and overwhelming.  I can't help compare race relations here to those in the US.  Perhaps more on that later.... 

I didn't lie.  This is us at the game on saturday.  We saw Brazil struggle to get past Kim Jong Il's soldiers last night.  In fact, the last time I was with so many North Koreans was in Castro's birthtown in rural Cuba. 

We left Joburg at 5:30am this morning, driving from the megacity to the rolling hills and rhino-crossing signs in northeastern SA.  We went to our favorite stadium yet - pillars in the form of enormous orange giraffes - to watch Chile squeek past Honduras 1-0.

I've discovered that all i have to do to make a stranger smile here is say "Go Bafana Bafana!" Translated as 'boys boys' the people are so proud of their soccer team they appear to be right up there with mandela.

...heading to God's Window and Blyde River Canyon tomorrow morning...

oh, i just discovered how to read comments on this thing.   i love it.  hearing from you makes me smile.  GO BAFANA BAFANA!!

Safari vs Soccer

Okay, so I convinced the lady at the internet cafe to stay open an extra 15 minutes so i could write a line or two.  Each day of this trip has felt like the most amazing day of my life, only to be topped by the following day.  US v England was everything it was hyped to be, plus pure chaos before and after the game trying to find parking, then our cars.  Americans celebrated the draw while the Brits dropped their heads. 

Safari exceeded my lofty expectations.  Last night we watched 2 lions eat a wildebeest from 15 feet away.  Seriously.  Giraffes, elephants, rhinos, you name it.  We saw a rare porcupine, ready for battle.  Warthogs, zebras, and so much i can't imagine what it was like.  I had to remind myself that this wasn't a zoo.  The animals could come at us at any moment.  Or run away....and keep running.  But generally they did neither.  Except for the angry elephant.

Off to see Brazil v North Korea tonight.  wow.

Soccer is under way...

My first full day here was spent going around Alexandra, the township that Mandela called home when he left the transkei (down south).  It's said to be very rough, high crime, etc. but my experience quite pleasant.  I was told that locking the car when we parked was not necessary.  Maybe it's just world cup fever, but there were only smiliing faces ready to greet foreigners.  The vuvuzelas - the buzzing horns you hear as you watch the games - are everywhere.  In order to avoid going crazy, i decided to join the ranks, and by the evening i was blowing my vuvuzela out the car window. 

Mike and I heading to a fan park with our hosts to watch the opening ceremonies and the opening match.  In the middle of 20,000+ fans - mostly locals - I started to envision what a stampede would look like.  So cramed my feet were falling asleep,  no moment was greater than when South Africa took a 1-0 lead and everyone found a way to stand up and hug everyone around - strangers and all.  even after it ended 1-all, the vuvuzelas accompanied us all the way home.

Brits v Yanks tomorrow.....

Touchdown in Africa

It took 2 long flights.  The first was under 3 hours, but was spent trapped between a window and a broad-shouldered, stumbly man with bloodshot eyes.  His clammy hands and swollen fingers gave way to unwashed clothes, a few days without a shave, and an oily face.  His dead stares told me he knew he smelled of stale beer, he knew he was a wreck, and he was sorry.  It didn't make the flight any easier for me, however.  The flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg was nothing short of jubilant, with cheers upon takeoff and landing, and soccer jerseys and sombreros in abundance.  yes, sombreros.  most of the fans were Mexicans, heading to see the opening match friday against the host country. 

My face paint made it through, despite being 4 liquid ounces.  My one checked bag - my large backpack - is still in Atlanta.  Ugh.  So here I am, at an internet cafe in joburg, unbathed, wearing the same clothes i put on tuesday morning, teeth unbrushed, wondering when i will start emitting an odor similar to the guy next to me from msp to atl. 

world cup fever is everywhere.  i can't wait to shower.  cheers.

My attire for Saturday

This is what I'll be wearing while I mock the Brits.  Oh, and i'll have a US jersey on, of course.  USA!!!!  Their empire is long gone.

Comments

Can someone try to post a comment and email me if it doesn't work?

thanks.

Packing

Last day of school = Travel to Africa.  i'm taking a half day tomorrow to get to the airport in time to take my shoes off, get body scanned, and hopefully avoid another case of TWB - traveling with a beard - that often results in a thorough search of my belongings.  Of all the things they might check my bag for, I'm most concerned about the masa flour - tough to x-ray.  Or will my red and blue face paint be more than 3.4 ounces?

It hasn't hit me yet, but on saturday i will be at a game the New Yorker claims is "expected to draw one of the largest audiences in the history of televised sports."  USA vs England.  They've sought revenge for 60 years, since we last played them in the 1950 World Cup.  Some say it was the greatest upset in World Cup history.  Now known as "Miracle on Grass."  Word on the street is that the Brits are riled up.  And here i am, with my US jersey, an Uncle Sam hat, a red-white-and-blue lei, and red and blue face paint.  seriously.

T minus 6

The question for the class was "How many siblings do you have?" When explaining why she changed her answer from 2 to 5, a student interrupted herself - "well, see, my family is confused."

I'm gonna miss these kids. and their confused families.

so 4 people have told me to continue writing, but only 1 appears to have visited at all. Do you not realize I can see the hits? I'm assuming you're waiting until I have some substance to write about. But what if it never shows up? I mean, soccer goal here, zebra there, but what's this trip really have in store?