And Then There Was One...

At last we were down to the final 2, a German side that had swept Brazil aside and a dogged Argentina that had, in contrast, seemed to have had to battle through all of their games.

The experts on the street were tipping Argentina, although they weren't what you would call impartial observers.

How can you not believe him?

Seeking Divine Intervention

Rio was now full of Argentinians.  Many had apparently driven 40 hours to get here.  The yellow shirts of Brazil had been replaced by a sea of blue and white stripes and they had been heading down to the beach all day, arms loaded with musical instruments and cases of beer.

Rio Fan Fest Main Screen

We decided to watch at the second screen at the fanfest, as this was the easiest one at which to get a viewing spot, although it was smaller than the main one.  This of course assumes that it's working, which wasn't the case at one of the earlier games!  There were no announcements or signs - just a few thousand baffled spectators!







Somewhat surprisingly, the fan fests haven't been the greatest here.  Neither of the screens are large enough, or high enough, for the tens of thousands of people watching, especially when everybody has to then make their way down the beach to the one working screen!

Second screen - sure it was bigger before...

This time fortunately, the screen was on although, to me, it looked like it had been replaced with an even smaller screen.  Of course, I could have just been standing further away...  In all seriousness though, we had no idea what was going on.  We never saw Argentina's goal ruled offside and so watched the game assuming they were leading!  We were somewhat surprised when it went to extra time! 

Off-field drama this time had featured three people being fished out of the ocean by helicopters and the crowd being subjected to the surging raids of gangs of children.  There would suddenly be a lot of movement in the crowd and the next thing you knew, there were scores of children running into the crowd.  They would tear in and then a few moments later, you'd see them all racing back down the beach, no doubt having snatched something from some unfortunate soul.  After a few such forays, the police made their way down towards the water and then the hunters became the hunted, as they melted into the crowd to avoid detection, anxious eyes over their shoulders.  There was a visible feeling of relief as people could just get back to watching the match.

Eventually, as everyone knows, Germany scored a beautiful goal to hit the front in what had become an attritional struggle.  One last free kick from an exhausted looking Messi sailed over the bar - so no Messi-anic miracle this time - and with it went any lingering Argentinian hopes.  So, to the great disappointment of the vast Argentinian contingent, the great joy of the suddenly audible German contingent and, no doubt, to the great relief of the Brazilians, who had been dreading their arch-rivals winning on their home turf, Germany were world champions.

 As the crowds made their way off the beach, one woman was shouting "Go home!" at the Argentinians and on another street, the owner had thrown open his balcony doors and was playing "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" at full volume.  So, not quite the perfect hosts, and, later, as annoying as they might have found the Argentinian fans, I think they'll find this kind of joy rather hollow!

For us, we're now in Salvador, 2 hours (by air) north of Rio.  It has a nice old town with cobbled streets - even our hotel was built in the 17th Century -  and it's a great place to relax, because, you know, this has been hard work!  And, for me, that will be it.  We'll have one more night in Rio before returning home.  So, I'll sign off now and thanks for putting up with my ramblings!

7 [Insert Expletive] - 1

Well that wasn't meant to happen!  I mean I was reasonably sure that Germany would beat Brazil with or without Neymar but seven goals, the first five in such quick order that it wasn't clear if we were watching action replays!

We'd made our way down to the Fan Fest site on Copacabana beach and got ourselves a spot, near the back (fortunately, as it turned out) but with a good view of the screen.  Even as we waited, ominous black clouds rolled in, veritable portents of the disaster that was to unfold. 

Buying the latest in with the in-crowd-chic rain-gear from the "capa" vendor, and convincing ourselves that these were more stylish than garbage bags, we braced ourself for the storm.

 And in rolled the goals.  The first, so straightforward a tap-in from a corner that it didn't seem real but if that was surreal, a total state of shock and numbness came over the crowd as four more went in within 18 minutes, two of them with such astonishing rapidity that the coverage and the crowd could not work out what was happening.

Suddenly, there was a roar, but it was nothing to do with the football.  It was a wave of people screaming and running.  And it looked like they were running for their lives!  We, as I say, were luckily at the back, so we had time to join the fleeing throng without too much panic - more just a state of bewilderment but as gunshots sounded, it became clearer!

People stream away from Copa

Lines of police (and there were many of them about) were making their way down towards the waterfront.  Most people seemed desperate to get onto buses and taxis and just get of there.  Apparently, and I only found this out the next day (in the SMH ironically enough), there had been a mass robbery by one of the armed favela gangs. 








In the meantime, having walked a couple of blocks behind the beach, we stood with some stunned locals to watch the end of the game.  In fairness to the spectators, with the exception of one guy who was really very upset and/or very drunk, they all stayed to the end and applauded the German performance, which, lets face it, will go down in history as one of the all-time great world cup displays. 

This morning though, while more subdued, the city is more back to normal.  As I sip my coffee and read about yesterday's events, sporting and otherwise, I hear a couple of locals laughing and you know that despite "the national disgrace" and "the great shame", for most people, life goes on.

Don't Go Jumping

We left cosmopolitan Buenos Aires for yet more jungle, this time Iguazu, which sits near the Argentine-Brazilian-Paraguayan borders.  

Walking into the national park, you are struck by how quiet and remote it feels and that's in spite of the many tourists.  A short ride on the miniature train and then a stroll down some pathways do not cue you for what you are about to see.  The few streams you cross are actually quiet but when you catch your first glimpse of the waterfalls, your breath is taken away.  They are much larger, in how far they extend, than you imagine. 

You have little sense of the size or the noise until you're almost right upon them.  Not the ideal place to go canoeing then...

The views are simply spectacular.

There are even rainbows in the mist-clad waters.

Walking along the lower reaches, sees you slowly getting soaked by the mist.



 Taking a less ethereal approach to getting wet, we also took a speedboat ride up to the waterfall's edge and were duly soaked very promptly.  You could not keep your eyes open with the water lashing you!

Elsewhere, although it's hard to tear your eyes away from the water, there is quite an array of wildlife in the park.  We saw a lot of these furry critters.  Judging by the number we saw trying to scramble onto cafe tables would appear to like chips.  We saw one ant go down though, so at least they're not just eating junk food.  They are Coatis and are part of the racoon family although one drunk American didn't worry about the details - "I'm gonna have some beers at the bar with those badgers!" he loudly proclaimed as he clambered off the speedboat.

Said American was later seen indeed consuming more beer but also, more alarmingly, with a bow and arrow in his other hand.  This he duly unleashed from time to time into the open grass area in front of the cafe.  So much for Responsible Service to Archers....Fortunately, an Argentinian girl declined his invitation to put an apple on her head, despite his, admittedly not entirely convincing, assurance that he was a good shot.

We spent the best part of day here and I now have many, many, photos of water to sift through. 

How it used to look

A Tale of Two Matches

I've mentioned that it's cold in Buenos Aires.  I realise that it's probably about the same temperature as Melbourne (or today, Hobart) but then I don't have any warm clothes...  And it's not just me thinks it's cold.

Anyway, cold or not, it was back down to the fan-fest area to watch Argentina take on Switzerland.  By now, we knew the drill.  Get a good spot with an uninterrupted view and wait for someone to stand right in front of you...

The Argentinians make a great deal of noise during their national anthem but they don't sing the words - they chant "Oh, oh, oh" to the tune of the anthem.  Watch the team - they also don't sing the anthem although sadly, they don't jump up and down and chant "Oh, oh, oh", which would look pretty cool.

I'm actually rather sad about this because it's come to my attention that my name is in the Argentinian national anthem.  See 4 lines up from the bottom - pretty sure that's me doing something for eternity with Laurel...

The game was another nail-biting affair, with the winning goal only coming in the 118th minute, just 2 minutes before the dreaded penalties.  Messi, finally, had some space in front of him, surged forward and slipped a pass through to di Maria, who duly slotted it home and, given that, by some counts, di Maria had previously lost the ball on 50 separate occasions, this was by no means a certainty!  So, it was yet another jubilant but very relieved fan-fest crowd that streamed out of the park.

This hadn't left us with a lot of time before the next game started, an intriguing fixture between USA and Belgium.  Thankfully, we decided to watch this one indoors - I couldn't have taken another 2 hours standing outside!   So, we made our way to the Alamo sports bar - an appropriately named bar if I've ever been in one.

The bar was packed and a voucher system was used to procure jugs of beer.

Americans are raucous sports fans.  Even as their team is patently being outclassed, they are chanting:

"I!
 I believe!
 I believe that!
 I believe that we!
 I believe that we will win!
 I believe that we will win!
 I believe that we will win!"

It's more martial than most of the more familiar chants, very intense and, for me, more a statement of personal affirmation than a team thing,although it has some serious people doing it.  I could have also definitely done without the "Don't F&#K with the USA" number although, come to think of it, that one might sound good coming from the State Department.    Throw in all of the uniquely American phrases,  "Come on rookie" or "Come on old timer", as the case may be, along with mention of the game going to PK's, and suddenly you're not actually sure what sport you're watching!  That said, it was great fun and not like watching any other team.  Little wonder that their fans and their matches were immensely popular during the tournament.

Just possibly, no-one's a winner

We had a few Argentinians standing nearby, who were just loving the atmosphere and occasionally broke into a more melodic Argentinian song which was well received.  Someone had even brought a football to the pub, you know, in case we wanted to get a game going...  In all seriousness, after polishing off several jugs, they were going to play football somewhere, albeit, as they confessed, very badly...

But, sadly, as has increasingly been the case in this world cup, the underdogs went down and this was in spite of their keeper making a record 15 saves during the game.  Remember the Alamo, indeed!


Post Script - I know this is late and even more recent scorelines have alreay consigned these matches' outcomes to pub trivia oblivion, but when most of the time is spent trying to get an internet connection, wi-fi being some kind of distant dream, it's hard to stay current...

Many Hours to Manaus

Manaus, located in the Amazon, had posed problems for us even before we had left.  Basically, we had been unable to book an internal flight flying tfrom within Brazil, but we were able to do so from Buenos Aires.  Strangely, enough this flight involved layovers in Sao Paolo on the way there and Rio on the way back, so it was hard to see how the domestic flights were not available but who can decipher the murky world of aviation?  To further confound things, the flight was altered a couple of times, the second time being a much later departure with a 6 hour layover (from 2.00 am) at Sao Paolo airport.  This effectively wiped a day off our trip, but we decided to continue with it.

Manaus is a city of over a million people, so it's not the rubber-trading outlier station that it would have been a hundred years ago but it is, I'm told, still surrounded by jungle in all directions for 1000 miles.

The good thing was that Brazil were playing, so we got to watch that in the town's main square,  

beneath the main theatre, Teatro Amazonas, which must have been a truly remarkable building when it was first built in 1896 - culture in the jungle!

The fans were a lot more raucous than those in Buenos Aires but this could also be because alcohol was allowed here...  There were a lot of horns - I can't say "blowing" because most of them were hand-pumped - hooting.  I have no respect for a hand-pumped horn.  I believe that the amount of noise being made should be proportional to the amount of effort put into making it and hand-pumping seems to bypass this.

Jubilation or sheer relief?

Brazil, as has been the case throughout, were unconvincing and after a Chilean shot cannoned off the crossbar latein extra-time, it remained locked up at 1-1 and onto penalties.  Thankfully, for the locals, Brazil prevailed and the place erupted!

Where we would have left from...

It had been our plan to go on a trip up the black Rio Negro where it meets the brown Rio Solomoes (the upper Amazon) and the two waters run side-by-side without mixing for about 6 kms.  Unfortunately, like everything on this leg, the trips were booked out...

Everybody sleeps

In fact, the next day, Sunday, the town was like a ghost town.  Streets were strangely empty, all the shops were closed.  The few people visible were snoozing...










So, we head back to Buenos Aires - a 2.15 am departure - without seeing all we would have liked.  Meanwhile, a quick look at my weather app tells me that it will be about 8 degrees in Buenos Aires...and that's in the daytime.

Buenos Aires or Brrr, Brrr, Cooooooooo-ooooooold!

The plane lands at Buenos Aires and everybody claps.  This happens throughout Central America too (but strangely not Brazil - it must be a Spanish thing).  I actually find it very disconcerting when it's been a trouble-free landing.  It makes me think that my life has been in great danger and that I haven't been paying attention.

The first jolt to the senses on arriving in Buenos Aires from hot Cuba and Panama is that it's cold.  Maybe up to 14 degrees in the daytime and only around 9 or 10 at night.  Not having a jacket, I basically had to resort to wearing a shirt over a t-shirt.  Not that this makes a lot of difference, as a brutal roof-top bus-ride was to prove a couple of days later.

The second impact that the city makes on you is its sheer vastness.  Some 15 million-plus people live here in 48 districts but it was also a city built on a grand scale.  Wide avenues run through the city - in fact, one of them, is the widest in the world - and there is a 280 acre park on one end of the city.  The whole city was,federalised about 15 years ago, so it's technically a state in itself.  Needless to say, walking anywhere here takes time but it is a great city to walk around.

Our first couple of nights are spent in San Telmo, an arty but run-down suburb.  It's apparently the home of tango in Buenos Aires (although, strangely, I seem to be hearing the Smiths wherever I go) but even better, around the corner from our hotel, there's a brew pub outlet...

My kind of chocolate wheel

At last an IPA!  And then a Stout...suddenly I'm not feeling the cold.

Of course, there's also the smell of meat being grilled everywhere.  An impromptu steak sandwich, which actually comprised 3 steaks between 2 pieces of bread took some eating!

Everything said about the steaks is true.  The meat, and the food in general, is just delicious!  And washing it down with a Malbec just seems very civilized.

We took the opportunity to watch Argentina play their last group game at one of the big-screen areas in the city.  The first thing to note was how polite Argentinian fans were.  The opposing team's anthem was applauded by a few people.  Good play was clapped rather than accompanied by raucous cheering.  In fact, it all seemed rather like a day at the cricket in England.  That said, the place did erupt when a goal was scored and, with Argentina's penchant for letting Nigeria equalise, goals were needed.

Weight of expectation not shown

There was almost a sense of expectation rather than trepidation when Messi placed the ball for a free-kick and, sure enough, he calmly slotted into the corner beyond the reach of the diving keeper with the ensuing, elongated, "Goooo-aaaaaalllll!" Cometh the hour, cometh the man, indeed!

Interestingly, having listened to the Spanish commentary, I realise that Messi, is probably the only player whose name I pronounce correctly.  There may be a PhD in the importance of having a an easy name to say and being famous...


As mentioned, we took a rooftop bus tour, which was a great way to see the city, and to get frost-bite.

We were given giant headphones, which mainly served as ear-muffs but did mean you had to endure a deafening piece of tango (I assume) which was on about a 2 minute loop non-stop for the 3 hours, only interrupted by fragmented English commentary on the sights, which in turn was interrupted by Spanish advertisements and instructions not to smoke.  I've also come to the conclusion that in every piece of music there's a part that sounds like Moon River...but that could be just because I heard this segueway 84 times...

It is a great city, although my travelling companion, Dr. Paul, informs me that Argentinians have the highest rate of psychological consultation in the world.  I'm sure this is connected to all that clapping when planes land.

Too much to possibly be able to describe

 


 

On the Buses...Finally

Well, you'll be glad to know, we made it out of Havana on our third attempt.

We saw a couple of the smaller towns with their beautiful cobbled streets, had an overnight stay in, and a walk through, the mountains near Trinidad before stopping at the enormous Che Guevara mausoleum, complete with a very prominent poster for Hugo Chavez, on the way back but it was a very serious place, more them showing us propaganda than allowing us a proper gander...

It wouldn't be Cuba though, without one last hiccough.  When we got back to our (new) hotel in Havana, they had no electricity in the the rooms we'd been booked into.  It was explained however, that they'd moved us to a better hotel nearby.  They then organised for the porter to wheel our bags the six blocks to the hotel, while we walked along behind trying not to look like colonial stooges.  And, to be fair, the alternative place was impressive, overlooking the Plaza d'Armas.

The first book-seller starts to set up in Plaza d'Armas

So, a last mojito/daiquiri in one of Hemmingway's haunts before heading back to Panama, which, I must say, has lost its allure, now that I've discovered that Panama hats are actually from Ecuador.  And from there it would be just a single night stay before flying on to Buenos Aires.

And so ended our Cuban misadventure, but it was great fun and definitely a place to come back to.  Meanwhile, in spite of my belief that a mojito does cover most of the food groups, I do need to reacquaint myself with not drinking rum cocktails at lunchtime...