The Red, The White and The Flood

The following is a description of the events that occurred on Thursday, June 26.

   I woke up with butterflies in my stomach around 8:30.  We didn't get to sleep until 2am as our friends Raquel, Joel, Zach and Scott came in at midnight and we stayed up chatting and watching condensed match replays of games we've seen twice already.   Iara and Isabella, our hosts, came to the apartment every morning to cook us breakfast.  An absolute feast.  grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, eggs, fruit, coffee, juice... more than we can possibly handle.  Neither one of them speaks more than a handful of words in English, so communicating is very difficult.  Thank God for Google Translate.  We got out of the apartment at around 10:30 after trying to communicate with Iara to figure out the best route.  She took Zach and Scott to the taxi station before looping back to pick us up.

   We got to the main road and had to go rather slowly, there was 3-4 inches of brown water streaming down the street. After backtracking to get on the main road, we finally turned left onto the street next to the beach and drive north for a couple slow kilometers.  We had to pick up the tickets, so turned left on a very busy road.  It wasn't promising.  Cars packed in the street.  Motorbikes with half of their wheels submerged spraying excess water onto our windshield.  We got back on track after picking up the tickets at a hotel, crawling only a car length or two every minute.  Finally a group of kids splashed their way through the middle of the traffic to yell and signal to Iara not to drive past the next block, as the flooding was too severe for her car to handle.  What a fun day for these kids – no shirts, obviously with good intentions, just having fun together directing traffic during the heaviest rainstorm in Recife in years. There was over 3 inches of rain reported that morning before 9am.

   The back streets would actually end up being better anyway. Until we hit the next main street.  This is where it got even more interesting.  Hitting more traffic, we were able to cut through to get onto a street that would take us close to the train station.  We turn right and look in front of us to find the street we want to be on – no cars on the road.  That would have been very exciting, the only problem is that the road was also flooded, over a foot deep.  Another group of 4-5 kids fumbled into the screen, this time teaming together to push another compact car through the river to the next street. They succeeded in getting the car to the other side of the road, smiles from ear to ear.  A quick wave and it was off to the next struggling driver.  Bennett, Raquel, Joel and I couldn’t believe our eyes.  We ended up cutting through a gas station and stop to contemplate entering the river.  Joel suggested the sidewalk.  So that happened.  Barely getting off the sidewalk back onto the safe street, we were finally near the train station.

   We ran up the train and were well on our way to the stadium.  About 10 stops, a train transfer followed by another six or seven stops and we were at the stadium stop.  The train ride was crazy, as we were packed to the brim with other Americans, not because we were all stressed, sweaty, ticked and wet, but because of what was outside.  Flooding everywhere, as we had already seen, but the ride showed a whole different part of Recife that we had not yet been introduced to yet.  Slums.  The real slums.  Bennett and I didn’t need to say anything to each other, just a quick glance to make sure we were seeing the same thing.  Scattered pieces of wood, metal, cardboard even comprised the structure of the houses.  Plastic roofs if they were lucky.  Houses the size of my closet.  Many raised up on stilts to handle this exact event.  My guess is that many people living in this area were soaked inside of these shambled boxes.  No wonder there is so much crime in Brazil – the salary for a minimum wage worker is $760 Reis(Brazilian Currency) a year – equal to about $360 dollars.  Expenses and cost of living is lower than USA, but not by a significant amount. Here is the best picture I could get. There was another section that was much, much worse.

   After the slums, we got to the stadium stop, which was still about 3 km away. Busses next, racing the hundreds of other fans to get onto the first bus at 1:20pm for the 1:00 game.  As we finally got a glimpse of the first stadium vendor at the bottom of the hill about a half a kilometer away, the bus started slowing down, and pulled into a stop.  Moans and groans accompanied everyone’s realization that we had to walk the rest of the way.  We got off the bus, and I looked to Joel.  “Want to get a move on?”  So we ran.  Half a kilometer to the bottom of the hill, then another half a kilometer to the stadium entry.  I divvied out the remaining tickets to my friends and we finally got inside.  We’re on the 4^th level, opposite side of the stadium.  Soaked, sweaty, scared and excited, we put our heads down and ran some more.  As I passed the sign for the second tier, I picked up the pace.  A little glimmer of hope – a burst of energy overwhelmed me.  I realized what just happened, what I had just been through and where I was going.  I’m about to watch USA vs. Germany in the final group stage match in the World Cup in Brazil.  A couple yells and shrieks of encouragement and we were all nearing a sprint as we got to our section.  The numbering was horrible, and two different stadium personnel pointed us up the wrong staircase after showing them our tickets.  We finally sat down, but only for a minute.  Bennett and I shared a quick moment of embracing and celebration before devoting our full attention to the game.  35^th minute.  Let’s get started.

   The game was rather boring, honestly.  Two teams understanding their fate – USA trying to not lose 4-0, Germany trying to at least tie.  Once Muller scored, nothing really changed.  The majority of the 55 minutes of the game was devoted to soaking in the experience, taking pictures, checking with the American behind us for score updates for the Ghana/Portugal game, looking around at the fans and cheering.  Once Ronaldo scored for Portugal in the 80^th, minute, the American celebration of a 1-0 loss had begun.  Once the final whistle blew, we all celebrated.  Americans and Germans embracing one another, taking pictures together, singing, dancing, and drinking.  We sat around in our nosebleeds and hung out with everyone else.  We slowly made our way to the 1^st level, where we found a German group of Germans celebrating in German soccer songs.  Their call and repeat was really cool, I got a few seconds of it on video.  They also did a chant where they all yelled “get down” or something in German, then jumped up at the same time and started singing again.   After another 10 minutes of recruiting a big group of Americans for the below photo, we slowly made our way out of the stadium so we would miss the rush of people getting out of the stadium.

   Stopping for a beer outside from the vendors at a roundabout, it was a big party.  Mostly Americans, but scattered of everyone, a few people were taking advantage of the warm temperature and intense rain, the grass area inside the roundabout was quickly turned into a Brazilian slip n’ slide.   After a few minutes, Bennett says “should I do it?”  He really didn’t have a choice after those words.  So I joined him.  I won’t show the video, but here's the after affects.

   We apparently one-upped everyone else, but the other two slip-and-sliders spent some time hanging out with us.  We ended up hanging out with drunk guy to my right for a long time that night.  I gathered that he was actually kind of cool once he sobered up... five hours later.  As we were walking back to the bus with drunk guy and his sober friends, we got to talking to a guy that had a GoPro on a stick, he got our slide on video.  Turns out, he is a player on a certain Seattle Seahawks Football team(the Pro-Bowler asked to stay private).   We took the bus with drunk guy, Seahawk and Seahawk’s brother the dentist back to the train.  We got some great USA chants – Yanks go marching in,  I believe, USA, We Love Ya just off the top of my head.  The bus administrators in front of us were blown away at the energy everyone was bringing.  Germans led one chant, then we led one. Back and forth it went. I'm going to try to load a video when I get home, but it's not coming up properly today.

   After getting off the bus, It was a crammed walk up the ramp to the entrance of the train.  Lining the streets were a bunch of locals – kids of all ages, mostly, all yelling and screaming USA and “America”.   It was really cool.  The eight stops, train transfer and other 8 or 9 stops was quite another experience, details aside.

   We took a cab to the Fan Fest area to sit and relax a bit.  There was still a good amount of other people out and about, as it was only 5 or 6 by then.  The sun was gone and after relaxing for an hour or two, we were ready for the next chapter of the night.  We cabbed back to a bar called The Underground pub which was a mix of people from the states, England and Brazil.  I bought a Budwiser and Jack Daniels because it felt right.  We spent more hilarious time with Seahawk and his crew, met new people, sung a couple more USA chants, and Bennett and I had a great time chatting with Bea - a Brazilian girl that speaks good English.  She also went to the game with a friend, but unfortunately had German gear on.  We talked about Portuguese and American words and their meanings, creepy guys at bars, and we all took turns bragging about our significant others.  By the end of our chat, she was in full support of the USA.   A job well done by us.

We headed home at around 1am with a good buzz of alcohol, pride and amazement.