By the time I arrived in Belo Horizonte for the Costa Rica – England match, England was already out of the tournament. Who would have thought that Costa Rica would top that group…over Italy, Uruguay, and well England. No matter. I was to meet a dear friend, Tricks, who over the years had become an online penpal of sorts. We had been class-mates in classes 5 and 6 at the Havel School in Berlin, Germany. He an English army brat, I a diplomatic kid.
I was relieved and excited to eventually meet up with him and his Argentinian friend with whom he had spent the previous twelve months surfing the Americas. Imagine that.
Belo Horizonte proved to be much fun and the best nightlife in my Brazilian trip. As told by a local “we don’t have a beach, so we go to the bars.” Apparently the city has the most bars in the country. I came to realize how much beer a person can drink. From sunrise to sunrise, the beer kept flowing. I cannot even drink that much volume in water. My company would board public buses with beer in hand…in broad daylight. It was surreal. At night, the streets were wet with beer and piss. I guess if you have to go you got to go. I was privy to a few male genitalia for this reason. <whistles absentmindedly>
The other observation was just how much kissing there was. At every corner, at any time. Teenage couples, gray-haired couples, women, men, all were kissing, and I don’t mean just a peck here and there. I mean a get a room already kind of kissing, an oh my do you come up for air kinda kissing, a my oh my where can I get some of that kinda kissing. A guy would just grab a girl passing by in the crowds and next thing you knew their tongues were locked in action. Most nights, the crowds were young. I mean teenage to mid-20s young. Apparently, the drinking age is 18 and many start before that. They would walk the streets with blood-shot eyes, sprawling over each other, wine bottle, beer can, or Jell-O shots in hand. So, often you would hear shouts of “beijar, beijar, beijar” which means “kiss, kiss, kiss” as a couple, strangers or not, were egged on in their passionate embrace. Jeez, I would have liked to be a teenager here. Just saying.
But enough about that. I’m supposed to be blogging about the delightful English fans. The match itself was not too exciting. Knowing that there was zero chance of England advancing took away the excitement. But despite their poor performance in the tournament, the English players (except Rooney who quickly exited the field) got a standing ovation full of song from their fan block for several minutes afterwards. Then they themselves clapped for their fans for several minutes too. How awesome. I should mention though, that that fan block never did the wave. What’s up with that? They did though sing a full rendition of Hey Jude close to the end of the game, probably annoying the non-English around them.
We went to Savassi Square to watch the Columbia match after returning to the city. I don’t even remember who they played as there was no way to focus on the TV. The English fans were at it, erupting into song every few minutes and eventually dancing as they got more inebriated as the night went on. At first, they were sparring off with the Chilean and the Costa Rican fans, but it soon became clear who was king of football anthems. They were so hilarious. They sang songs such as “We are going home, England is going home“, “If you love England, shoes off/sit down/stand up” to which our Argentinian friend did the opposite, “I’m England till I die, I know I am, I’m sure I am, I’m England till I die”, “Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be. We’re going to Terminal 3. Que sera, sera” and of course “God Save The Queen”. They even picked on our Argentinian friend a bit, singing about the Falklands. Tricks got into the action just a tiny bit taking off his shoes at one point, and even I sang and clapped along. Goodness, I love the World Cup with all its excitement and camaraderie and I’m so grateful for being here in Brazil where the passion is strong.
At one point, some dude climbed a young tree and essentially gave us an acrobatic pole dance before falling to the ground with a branch that could not hold his weight. No worries.
Someone else picked up the branch and waved it along to the beat of the songs being sang before the police arrived on the scene to confiscate it. They are not called hooligans for nothing. Standing on tables and chairs, throwing beer all over the place, kicking a beach football around, it was just madness. At the end of the night, the square was a mess, broken plastic chairs and tables around. Hilarious and great evening that was.
A lover of mangoes. A woman - smart, without pretense, lefthanded, Afropolitan - navigating this thing called life. An unapologetic believer in social justice and karma. Choosing to radiate positive energy and be true to myself. Here, my musings.
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