World Cup Brasil 2014
Saturday, June 14 (Minneapolis > Sao Paulo)
Departure day, the anticipation several years in the making has now finally arrived.
Packing for this trip has been so easy, compared to my most recent bandy trip in the dead of winter. Aside from not needing to pack all of my referee uniform, skates, helmet, etc.; this trip will require minimal amount of clothing.
1300: depart home and stop for lunch at the Andale Taquiera Mercado - a growing tradition before any trip. A plate of Ahlambres carnitas and a couple of Tacos Al Pastor are shared between me and my mom. The taquiera is packed with local Latinos enjoying a Saturday afternoon with their friends and families.
1410: arrive at MSP to find an extraordinarily long line at the check in. No sign yet of Andy, so I get in the queue. A short time later, he arrives, and we sneak him thru to join me so we can check in together.
1530: cleared security after the body scan and full pat down. Something in/on my carry on bag set off the sensors. After an extensive search with the wipes and additional pat down I am thru and off to the gate lounge anticipating on time departure for Newark. Our United Embraer 175 is a small jet, with little overhead bin capacity. Therefore, AJ and I drop our carry on backpacks at the jetway, making the cabin a little more comfortable for us all.
2020: arrive at EWR where we have a short layover before the overnight flight to Sao Paulo. I am still trying to get myself organized with my travel documents and such with the new travel pants for this trip. Unfortunately, this second pair is slightly different with fewer zippered pockets and I am struggling to maintain my traditional organizational routine. I become nervous when I am unable to find my passport and boarding pass and begin to rifle thru my carry on. Increasingly agitated and much to AJ's chagrin, I finally realize that I have put the documents back in my money belt. Doh! I am notified by my travel partner that I have been docked one demerit. Damn! I have been trying so hard to regain my former status (scoutmaster - a moniker coined by Jim Crist a fellow traveler to the World Cup in South Africa). I lost my status after a previous debacle on route to World Cup Qualifier in Kansas City when I forgot the group tickets at home. Luckily, we were only thirty minutes down the freeway. This delay seriously cut into our chance for BBQ at Oklahoma Joe's and will follow me for years to come. All of my travel companions are now tasked with observing me as I work to regain my previous stature.
2200: we are on board and ready for departure. Dinner will be provided on board the United Boeing 767, then we'll take a sleep aid in order to arrive tomorrow morning in Brazil.
Sunday, June 15 (Sao Paulo > Natal > Pipa)
0820: we arrive at GRU a few minutes early after an uneventful flight (the best kind). We must collect our bags before we clear customs and check thru to Natal. There is zero inspection of our luggage by security/immigration. We are happy not to have to explain our two large hockey gear bags stuffed with about 250 custom scarves that we hope to sell to the traveling USA supporters. This is an ambitious task set before us, but we must maintain our motivation to reduce the load that we have to transport across Brasil over the next couple of weeks.
We've checked in for our Azul Airlines flight to Natal and now are in search of the FIFA ticket collection center in the main terminal. The small office is easy to find, and there is a small line of traveling supporters from all around the world anxious for the tournament ahead. FIFA ticket kiosks similar (or maybe the same) as provided in South Africa work exceedingly simple. Insert the credit card that was used to purchase the tickets several months ago, and the kiosk prints each of the tickets on the spot. I am able to quickly navigate the touch screen and soon have tickets in hand. Andy, on the other hand, had his credit card compromised in the previous couple of months and was unable to navigate the kiosk. He then had to go into another small office where they quickly remedied the situation and we were both on our way from Terminal 1 to Terminal 4 to catch our next flight to the northeastern city of Natal where USA will play Ghana tomorrow night.
1200: we're in the small departure lounge for domestic flights. The aircraft arrive out on the tarmac where the passengers must walk out and up the stairs into the planes. Our Azul Airlines Airbus A319 arrives and we'll soon be on our way. AJ and I decline to get up and stand in line for boarding and just wait to be near the last aboard. This is OK, however, the overhead bins are full, so I have to fit my carry on under the seat in front of me. AJ squeezes his into the last remaining space overhead. This makes for a very slightly uncomfortable three plus hour flight, but it is "fique tranquilo" - brazilian vernacular roughly translated as - it's OK, no problem. We have emblazoned this slogan upon the reverse side of our USA supporters scarves. Fique tranquilo is the mindset of USA fans upon being drawn into the Group of Death with Germany, Portugal and Ghana. I hope these scarves catch on and we are able to sell them like hot cakes both here in Brasil, at the several watch party venues in and around Minneapolis and St. Paul and via the internet store. The goal is for any profit from the sale of these scarves will be donated to the Sanneh Foundation. Tony Sanneh was the star of the 2002 World Cup in Korea/Japan where he was magnificent in the USA victory over Portugal and Luis Figo.
1600: arrive at NAT after about a three and a half hour flight. At the luggage carousel Budweiser have a small kiosk and are offering up free cans to the arriving passengers. Of course there are a couple of strikingly beautiful girls to distribute the iconic American beer. Most of the passengers are taking advantage of the free beer - shocking, I know. AJ and I both decline, as we know that we still have a long day in front of us; which includes driving our rental car to rendevoux with Pam to deliver the tickets that she purchased from us, and then continue our drive an hour down the coast to our tropical beach town of Pipa.
With our luggage collected, we head for the Avis/Budget rental car desk, where AJ has reserved our compact manual transmission vehicle (Fiat UNO). Adjacent is the currency exchange, so I wait in that line to exchange our greenbacks (US$) for the Brazial Reais (R$). The exchange rate is 2.12 to buy and 2.34 to sell. Therefore when we convert the cost in Brasilian Reais to the dollar it is just about half (0.47).
It is winter time now in Brasil, and the sun has set about 1700, so we are off in our little car to try to exchange tickets at the US Soccer Fan Party in Natal. We begin navigating into the city, but encounter an unexpected roundabout just a kilometer outside the airport and no indication of the highway we are looking for. As it turns out, this new airport opened only 15 days ago, and my Google Map has incorrectly published directions. We return to the airport to get a map from the rental agency and continue on our way in search of the night before party in the city of Natal. We have no idea what is in store for us as we begin to navigate the dark streets of this major urban city.
AJ is behind the wheel of our Fiat, the hatch back trunk is full with one gear bag of scarves, the rear seats are both full with my Kosa bandy gear bag plus our two carry on packs. There is no way that the four of us would be able to travel in this car with all of our luggage. As I said, the streets are dark and traffic is heavy as we begin our trip into Natal from the new airport. Signage is exceedingly difficult to read and street signs are almost non-existent.
We are able to make our way into the middle of the town, but get turned around several times as we try to find streets to correspond with our tourist street map. After at least an hour, we are ready to give up on finding the party spot (and also understand from a mis-informed US fan at the airport that the party has been cancelled due to flooding). I break out my US phone, and make what will surely be an expensive phone call to let Pam know that we are giving up on trying to meet up for delivery of tickets tonight. After leaving a message on her phone, I receive a text indicating that the party is ON.
Andy and I are now quite hungry not having eaten anything except a small granola bar since breakfast. We pass a very brighly lit restaurant, Habib's, and I decide that we need to stop here, relax, eat and re-adjust our mindset before continuing on. I leave AJ with the car, for one of the doors will not lock and go inside and get some dinner for us. Two burger meals with fries and small Coca-Cola cost R$28 (US$13). We sit in the car and decompress a bit.
We decide to give it one more go after further study of the dodgy roadmap and I am confident that we can find our way to the US Soccer fan party. We set out again, and are able to find the major road that we need. Since it is pitch black outside, it is hard to orient to major landmarks, buildings or direction. Eventually, we find Avenue Ayrton Senna (named for famous Formula 1 racing driver), and from here I have confidence that I can navigate us to the venue. We make one wrong turn, but again, I have confidence that we will recover and soon be on the highway BR101 and locate the party. Sure enough we pass a street near the destination, and there is a long line of taxi cabs dropping off/picking up US supporters. With Pam's tickets in hand, I leave AJ in the car and head into the temporary nightclub set up by US Soccer. I fear what I know to be the situation at these events - a mass of drunk guys and blaring music. I have told Pam that I will chirp out my bird whistle to help her find me - and I am afraid this will be to no avail in the rising din blaring from the PA system. I do not know Pam, but she sent me a photo of her and her friend Sarah. I study the photo for a moment after passing security and presenting my RSVP and steady myself for what I told AJ was going to be a very brief attempt at the exchange. To my surprise, there is a gal with glasses similar to Pam standing near the entrance, and I approach her. She, too, has been given photo of me and we make eye contact and I ask if her name is Pam. She brightens her smile and gives me a hug. I deliver to her the tickets that she and her friends bought from our crew in the nice FIFA package and am back out of the venue to the waiting car. JOY! We were ready to give up on being able to make contact and were dreading having to wait and waste part of the next game day trying to pass off the tickets.
2200: back on the road after barging thru the long line of taxicabs, we make our 'retourno' (U-turn) on the BR101 highway and begin heading south to Pipa where we still have to meet up with Charlie and Bill. Several hours ago, we were able to make another very expensive phone call to Bill who said that he and Charlie were in downtown Pipa watching the game and would be awaiting our arrival. With at least an hour drive ahead of us (navigation willing) I was beginning to think that we would never be able to find our little BnB in the tourist paradise of Pipa.
2300: we are approaching Pipa and the signage is dodgy. We have some written instructions indicating to follow the route toward Ares, which entails another retourno on BR101 (main highway). As we are approaching the exit a police vehicle is coming up from behind with it's flashing lights on, so I pull to the left (wrong) side of the road and slow down to let pass. The cop car slows and rolls down the window as the four officers inside give us 'gringos' a good look over. They proceed and exit just ahead - the same one that we are too take. As we are preparing to take the roundabout back toward the Pipa exit, we see an arrow toward Ares, so we continue around the circle. As it happens there are five or six police/military vehicles with their lights flashing, the road blocked with cones, automatic weapons and a group of locals cordoned off on the side of the road next to a sugar cane field. I pull up with a smile - how bad can this turn out, I think.
Of course, there is nobody who speaks a word of english, we neither do we their Portugese. I point to my map and indicate we are traveling to Pipa. They see the map and think we are going back to Natal. A short exchange later after having pulled one of the local perps aside to attempt at translation, they understand that we are headed for Pipa and that we should follow one of them who will guide us. So here we are, heading back south on BR101 toward Pipa in the middle of the night and following a police car with it's lights flashing. A precious moment indeed that AJ captures with a video snippet and humorous commentary.
<INSERT VIDEO HERE>
After about five minutes we exit the highway, take a frontage road for about a mile before making the 'retuouro' at an underpass and head back into this small town. We follow the flashing lights thru the narrow streets surprisingly congested with pedestrians at almost midnight on a Sunday. Eventually we are thru this small town and out on a rural road with our police escort. Another five or so minutes down the road the police car pulls to the side of the road and beckons us to approach - they have guided us far enough along the way, and we can take it from here ... we think and hope so. The signs to the tourist beach town of Pipa are relatively well marked and we continue along passing many small villages where there are people out and about now well after midnight which we find quite strange.
We continue winding our way thru this narrow two lane road with no shoulder and speed bumps at every village until we end up passing a resort with a entry all light up. I decide to go in and ask for directions. There is a flight crew just preparing to depart for their next trip which is an indication that it is indeed well into the middle of the night. We are told to continue along the road which will lead directly in to Pipa.
Eventually, we arrive in Pipa and it is a ghost town or so it appears, and we assume that Bill and Charlie will have left the bar where they were watching the game, and I thought we'd be sleeping on the beach until morning. But to my surprise, we come down the main street which is completely closed for the night to find a massive street party where I have to slow to a crawl and eventually stop or risk running over one of the drunk soccer fans staggering/dancing to the blaring music. All of a sudden, we hear someone yell, ANDY! It's Charlie and Bill sitting up in a bar looking out over the spectacle. Charlie comes running down, gives Andy a hug thru the window and then does his best Starsky and Hutch slide/roll across the hood of the car and tumbles across and onto the cobblestones. He bounces right up and comes over to me, boy am I glad to see him!
1230: I work my way thru the crowd of people who are cheek to jowl in the street around the corner and up the steep hill around the corner to park. The guys pay their bill, and we somehow cram us all into the tiny Fiat and head for our little cabin. Quickly we unload, and AJ and I are in desperate need of a cold beer to take the edge off of what has been a very long day and a half of travel. We enjoy a couple of local Skol beers R$5 (US$2.35). As we are sitting and enjoying the street party below full of US and Argentine fans, there approaches a small troupe of musical performers wearing matching red sequined clad track suits with "Home Team" printed on the shoulders. They are a bunch of US fans strumming a pair of ukuleles, beating out rhythms on washboard and singing a wonderful little ditty that goes like this: "Estados Unidos, Beat Ghana"
<INSERT BILL'S VIDEO HERE>
Our traveling squad of 1st Minnesota Volunteers are now all together and we are beginning to relax. We have another round of beers before walking back to our place and settling in for bed at about 0230.
Saturday, June 14 (Minneapolis > Sao Paulo)
Departure day, the anticipation several years in the making has now finally arrived.
Packing for this trip has been so easy, compared to my most recent bandy trip in the dead of winter. Aside from not needing to pack all of my referee uniform, skates, helmet, etc.; this trip will require minimal amount of clothing.
1300: depart home and stop for lunch at the Andale Taquiera Mercado - a growing tradition before any trip. A plate of Ahlambres carnitas and a couple of Tacos Al Pastor are shared between me and my mom. The taquiera is packed with local Latinos enjoying a Saturday afternoon with their friends and families.
1410: arrive at MSP to find an extraordinarily long line at the check in. No sign yet of Andy, so I get in the queue. A short time later, he arrives, and we sneak him thru to join me so we can check in together.
1530: cleared security after the body scan and full pat down. Something in/on my carry on bag set off the sensors. After an extensive search with the wipes and additional pat down I am thru and off to the gate lounge anticipating on time departure for Newark. Our United Embraer 175 is a small jet, with little overhead bin capacity. Therefore, AJ and I drop our carry on backpacks at the jetway, making the cabin a little more comfortable for us all.
2020: arrive at EWR where we have a short layover before the overnight flight to Sao Paulo. I am still trying to get myself organized with my travel documents and such with the new travel pants for this trip. Unfortunately, this second pair is slightly different with fewer zippered pockets and I am struggling to maintain my traditional organizational routine. I become nervous when I am unable to find my passport and boarding pass and begin to rifle thru my carry on. Increasingly agitated and much to AJ's chagrin, I finally realize that I have put the documents back in my money belt. Doh! I am notified by my travel partner that I have been docked one demerit. Damn! I have been trying so hard to regain my former status (scoutmaster - a moniker coined by Jim Crist a fellow traveler to the World Cup in South Africa). I lost my status after a previous debacle on route to World Cup Qualifier in Kansas City when I forgot the group tickets at home. Luckily, we were only thirty minutes down the freeway. This delay seriously cut into our chance for BBQ at Oklahoma Joe's and will follow me for years to come. All of my travel companions are now tasked with observing me as I work to regain my previous stature.
2200: we are on board and ready for departure. Dinner will be provided on board the United Boeing 767, then we'll take a sleep aid in order to arrive tomorrow morning in Brazil.
Sunday, June 15 (Sao Paulo > Natal > Pipa)
0820: we arrive at GRU a few minutes early after an uneventful flight (the best kind). We must collect our bags before we clear customs and check thru to Natal. There is zero inspection of our luggage by security/immigration. We are happy not to have to explain our two large hockey gear bags stuffed with about 250 custom scarves that we hope to sell to the traveling USA supporters. This is an ambitious task set before us, but we must maintain our motivation to reduce the load that we have to transport across Brasil over the next couple of weeks.
We've checked in for our Azul Airlines flight to Natal and now are in search of the FIFA ticket collection center in the main terminal. The small office is easy to find, and there is a small line of traveling supporters from all around the world anxious for the tournament ahead. FIFA ticket kiosks similar (or maybe the same) as provided in South Africa work exceedingly simple. Insert the credit card that was used to purchase the tickets several months ago, and the kiosk prints each of the tickets on the spot. I am able to quickly navigate the touch screen and soon have tickets in hand. Andy, on the other hand, had his credit card compromised in the previous couple of months and was unable to navigate the kiosk. He then had to go into another small office where they quickly remedied the situation and we were both on our way from Terminal 1 to Terminal 4 to catch our next flight to the northeastern city of Natal where USA will play Ghana tomorrow night.
1200: we're in the small departure lounge for domestic flights. The aircraft arrive out on the tarmac where the passengers must walk out and up the stairs into the planes. Our Azul Airlines Airbus A319 arrives and we'll soon be on our way. AJ and I decline to get up and stand in line for boarding and just wait to be near the last aboard. This is OK, however, the overhead bins are full, so I have to fit my carry on under the seat in front of me. AJ squeezes his into the last remaining space overhead. This makes for a very slightly uncomfortable three plus hour flight, but it is "fique tranquilo" - brazilian vernacular roughly translated as - it's OK, no problem. We have emblazoned this slogan upon the reverse side of our USA supporters scarves. Fique tranquilo is the mindset of USA fans upon being drawn into the Group of Death with Germany, Portugal and Ghana. I hope these scarves catch on and we are able to sell them like hot cakes both here in Brasil, at the several watch party venues in and around Minneapolis and St. Paul and via the internet store. The goal is for any profit from the sale of these scarves will be donated to the Sanneh Foundation. Tony Sanneh was the star of the 2002 World Cup in Korea/Japan where he was magnificent in the USA victory over Portugal and Luis Figo.
1600: arrive at NAT after about a three and a half hour flight. At the luggage carousel Budweiser have a small kiosk and are offering up free cans to the arriving passengers. Of course there are a couple of strikingly beautiful girls to distribute the iconic American beer. Most of the passengers are taking advantage of the free beer - shocking, I know. AJ and I both decline, as we know that we still have a long day in front of us; which includes driving our rental car to rendevoux with Pam to deliver the tickets that she purchased from us, and then continue our drive an hour down the coast to our tropical beach town of Pipa.
With our luggage collected, we head for the Avis/Budget rental car desk, where AJ has reserved our compact manual transmission vehicle (Fiat UNO). Adjacent is the currency exchange, so I wait in that line to exchange our greenbacks (US$) for the Brazial Reais (R$). The exchange rate is 2.12 to buy and 2.34 to sell. Therefore when we convert the cost in Brasilian Reais to the dollar it is just about half (0.47).
It is winter time now in Brasil, and the sun has set about 1700, so we are off in our little car to try to exchange tickets at the US Soccer Fan Party in Natal. We begin navigating into the city, but encounter an unexpected roundabout just a kilometer outside the airport and no indication of the highway we are looking for. As it turns out, this new airport opened only 15 days ago, and my Google Map has incorrectly published directions. We return to the airport to get a map from the rental agency and continue on our way in search of the night before party in the city of Natal. We have no idea what is in store for us as we begin to navigate the dark streets of this major urban city.
AJ is behind the wheel of our Fiat, the hatch back trunk is full with one gear bag of scarves, the rear seats are both full with my Kosa bandy gear bag plus our two carry on packs. There is no way that the four of us would be able to travel in this car with all of our luggage. As I said, the streets are dark and traffic is heavy as we begin our trip into Natal from the new airport. Signage is exceedingly difficult to read and street signs are almost non-existent.
We are able to make our way into the middle of the town, but get turned around several times as we try to find streets to correspond with our tourist street map. After at least an hour, we are ready to give up on finding the party spot (and also understand from a mis-informed US fan at the airport that the party has been cancelled due to flooding). I break out my US phone, and make what will surely be an expensive phone call to let Pam know that we are giving up on trying to meet up for delivery of tickets tonight. After leaving a message on her phone, I receive a text indicating that the party is ON.
Andy and I are now quite hungry not having eaten anything except a small granola bar since breakfast. We pass a very brighly lit restaurant, Habib's, and I decide that we need to stop here, relax, eat and re-adjust our mindset before continuing on. I leave AJ with the car, for one of the doors will not lock and go inside and get some dinner for us. Two burger meals with fries and small Coca-Cola cost R$28 (US$13). We sit in the car and decompress a bit.
We decide to give it one more go after further study of the dodgy roadmap and I am confident that we can find our way to the US Soccer fan party. We set out again, and are able to find the major road that we need. Since it is pitch black outside, it is hard to orient to major landmarks, buildings or direction. Eventually, we find Avenue Ayrton Senna (named for famous Formula 1 racing driver), and from here I have confidence that I can navigate us to the venue. We make one wrong turn, but again, I have confidence that we will recover and soon be on the highway BR101 and locate the party. Sure enough we pass a street near the destination, and there is a long line of taxi cabs dropping off/picking up US supporters. With Pam's tickets in hand, I leave AJ in the car and head into the temporary nightclub set up by US Soccer. I fear what I know to be the situation at these events - a mass of drunk guys and blaring music. I have told Pam that I will chirp out my bird whistle to help her find me - and I am afraid this will be to no avail in the rising din blaring from the PA system. I do not know Pam, but she sent me a photo of her and her friend Sarah. I study the photo for a moment after passing security and presenting my RSVP and steady myself for what I told AJ was going to be a very brief attempt at the exchange. To my surprise, there is a gal with glasses similar to Pam standing near the entrance, and I approach her. She, too, has been given photo of me and we make eye contact and I ask if her name is Pam. She brightens her smile and gives me a hug. I deliver to her the tickets that she and her friends bought from our crew in the nice FIFA package and am back out of the venue to the waiting car. JOY! We were ready to give up on being able to make contact and were dreading having to wait and waste part of the next game day trying to pass off the tickets.
2200: back on the road after barging thru the long line of taxicabs, we make our 'retourno' (U-turn) on the BR101 highway and begin heading south to Pipa where we still have to meet up with Charlie and Bill. Several hours ago, we were able to make another very expensive phone call to Bill who said that he and Charlie were in downtown Pipa watching the game and would be awaiting our arrival. With at least an hour drive ahead of us (navigation willing) I was beginning to think that we would never be able to find our little BnB in the tourist paradise of Pipa.
2300: we are approaching Pipa and the signage is dodgy. We have some written instructions indicating to follow the route toward Ares, which entails another retourno on BR101 (main highway). As we are approaching the exit a police vehicle is coming up from behind with it's flashing lights on, so I pull to the left (wrong) side of the road and slow down to let pass. The cop car slows and rolls down the window as the four officers inside give us 'gringos' a good look over. They proceed and exit just ahead - the same one that we are too take. As we are preparing to take the roundabout back toward the Pipa exit, we see an arrow toward Ares, so we continue around the circle. As it happens there are five or six police/military vehicles with their lights flashing, the road blocked with cones, automatic weapons and a group of locals cordoned off on the side of the road next to a sugar cane field. I pull up with a smile - how bad can this turn out, I think.
Of course, there is nobody who speaks a word of english, we neither do we their Portugese. I point to my map and indicate we are traveling to Pipa. They see the map and think we are going back to Natal. A short exchange later after having pulled one of the local perps aside to attempt at translation, they understand that we are headed for Pipa and that we should follow one of them who will guide us. So here we are, heading back south on BR101 toward Pipa in the middle of the night and following a police car with it's lights flashing. A precious moment indeed that AJ captures with a video snippet and humorous commentary.
<INSERT VIDEO HERE>
After about five minutes we exit the highway, take a frontage road for about a mile before making the 'retuouro' at an underpass and head back into this small town. We follow the flashing lights thru the narrow streets surprisingly congested with pedestrians at almost midnight on a Sunday. Eventually we are thru this small town and out on a rural road with our police escort. Another five or so minutes down the road the police car pulls to the side of the road and beckons us to approach - they have guided us far enough along the way, and we can take it from here ... we think and hope so. The signs to the tourist beach town of Pipa are relatively well marked and we continue along passing many small villages where there are people out and about now well after midnight which we find quite strange.
We continue winding our way thru this narrow two lane road with no shoulder and speed bumps at every village until we end up passing a resort with a entry all light up. I decide to go in and ask for directions. There is a flight crew just preparing to depart for their next trip which is an indication that it is indeed well into the middle of the night. We are told to continue along the road which will lead directly in to Pipa.
Eventually, we arrive in Pipa and it is a ghost town or so it appears, and we assume that Bill and Charlie will have left the bar where they were watching the game, and I thought we'd be sleeping on the beach until morning. But to my surprise, we come down the main street which is completely closed for the night to find a massive street party where I have to slow to a crawl and eventually stop or risk running over one of the drunk soccer fans staggering/dancing to the blaring music. All of a sudden, we hear someone yell, ANDY! It's Charlie and Bill sitting up in a bar looking out over the spectacle. Charlie comes running down, gives Andy a hug thru the window and then does his best Starsky and Hutch slide/roll across the hood of the car and tumbles across and onto the cobblestones. He bounces right up and comes over to me, boy am I glad to see him!
1230: I work my way thru the crowd of people who are cheek to jowl in the street around the corner and up the steep hill around the corner to park. The guys pay their bill, and we somehow cram us all into the tiny Fiat and head for our little cabin. Quickly we unload, and AJ and I are in desperate need of a cold beer to take the edge off of what has been a very long day and a half of travel. We enjoy a couple of local Skol beers R$5 (US$2.35). As we are sitting and enjoying the street party below full of US and Argentine fans, there approaches a small troupe of musical performers wearing matching red sequined clad track suits with "Home Team" printed on the shoulders. They are a bunch of US fans strumming a pair of ukuleles, beating out rhythms on washboard and singing a wonderful little ditty that goes like this: "Estados Unidos, Beat Ghana"
<INSERT BILL'S VIDEO HERE>
Our traveling squad of 1st Minnesota Volunteers are now all together and we are beginning to relax. We have another round of beers before walking back to our place and settling in for bed at about 0230.
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