My first football match

I am not sure if those Ancient Greeks, Romans or even the medieval European peasants who started kicking around a ball ever thought it would become such a big game. Perhaps they did. But I doubt very much that they envisioned the fireworks, riot squads and toilet paper apparently essential to a football match here in Mendoza.

I went to my first football match last Sunday. I have watched the game on television once or twice and I think anyone who is remotely conscious during the World Cup can just about understand the concept of getting the ball through a net to gain points. So the football itself was no surprise. It was everything around it that took me aback.

Before even embarking on the short walk to the stadium in Parque San Martin I had been warned by many that football was a dangerous game - not for those playing but for the spectators who may be pushed around, mugged or even smacked in the face.

A seething mass of police cars, officers on horses and flashing lights were enough to make me slightly concerned for the safety of my spectacles however we carried on following the sea of blue and white uniformed Godoy Cruz supporters.

Smelling the familiar whiff of Choripan, I bought the obligatory completo to placate my nervous stomach and followed everyone into the stadium. Although not before a police search on the way in.

Estadio Malvinas Argentinas (ahem, time to switch from my English accent and attempt an appalling Australian one) is bigger than I expected, seating just under 50,000 spectators and was built for the World Cup in 1978. Apart from that the stadium was not used for any big matches, as Mendoza did not have a team in the first league. That was until recently.

Godoy Cruz made its way up to the Argentine Football First Division in 2006 and since then Mendoza’s Stadium has been put back on the map. Last Sunday’s match, I was informed, was a bit of a milestone for Godoy Cruz. They had never reached so far in the First Division and so obviously there was palpable excitement in the air.

Supporters thundering big drums, tooting their trumpets and setting off bangers and fireworks made for a colourful tribal procession into the stadium. One half of the stadium was full (obviously the Godoy Cruz side) and on the other end there were only a handful of supporters for Buenos Aires’ Banfield team, who had been smuggled in through the other entrance and were camouflaged in civilian’s clothing to avoid any trouble after the match.

The football fans got busy putting out their banners and flags, while setting off more bangers and fireworks as kick-off approached. Four sets of riot squads moved out to guard the corners of the pitch and sniffer dogs sat hesitantly on the sidelines. Loud boos and whistles heralded the entrance of the opposition and then cheers, whoops and newspaper confetti were thrown as Godoy Cruz walked on - it felt like a pantomime that was only missing a dame.

After a huge build-up the football started. They played well and the goals and almost goals were exciting but to be honest I was more riveted by the action off the pitch, and I wasn’t the only one.

An onslaught of what looked like toilet paper was thrown at the pitch and Banfield’s goalie spent most of the first half tidying up. Water balloons were hurled at the riot squad (although I seriously doubt it was water…) and everyone started jumping and shouting all sorts of obscenities in Spanish.

We were winning so I am not sure why it was necessary to call anyone a ‘c*ncha de madre’ but everyone seemed to feel that way. I found myself stood in front of the loudest supporter of them all who felt impulsed in a tourettes-like manner to shout every obscenity under the sun down my neck every two minutes. Thank you for expanding my vocabulary.

During half time we all sat down to rest our feet and vocal lungs and then it was back up again to shout, jump and avoid all the dangerously low-flying fireworks and water bombs. Godoy Cruz won 2-0 and everyone left happy and peacefully, content that their bad language and toilet paper had nailed the game.

Actually, I bet the Romans would have loved it. I did.

Mendoza!

Arriving in Mendoza after a breath-taking, although slightly tiring, journey over the Andes we moved to our hosts house in Godoy Cruz. A young family with a couple of adorable children, we instantly clicked - so much so that we spent three weeks there!

We enjoyed the wine festival by getting involved in some festivities and of course trying lots of wine. After one particular wine fueled night we fell asleep and managed to sleep straight through the earthquake, apparently no-one else on the street did but we didn't feel a thing.
That morning we headed up to the mountains for a weekend of camping in the Andes. Finding an abandoned train station we all set up camp there and made a giant asado. After a surreal night we woke up to visit the areas of interest: the mountains, lakes, Chilean border and the Puente del Inca.
Puente del Inca is a beautiful natural bridge formed by mineral deposits and is surrounded by an extremely sulfurous river. People dump all sorts of things in the river to petrify them (bottles, toys and even shoes) and then sell these useless objects to tourists. Interesting.
It was a slightly unlucky trip resulting in a bumped hire car, broken digital camera and diarrhea but good fun all the same.
After a couple weeks sorting out teaching and writing work, we found a house to move into and are sharing with a nice mix of South Americans and Europeans. It feels like we have found home, well for a while at least.

Pichilemu, Chile

Next we headed to Pichilemu on the coast further up north by bus, stopping off for the hugest hot dog on the way.

The small coastal town was in full swing for the weekend as it is the best surf spot in the country and one of the most popular beach resorts for Chilean tourists.
It was more how you expect South America to be- dirt roads, donkeys, countless shrines, tacky funfairs and lots of exciting looking food.
We spent a week relaxing at friendly Jose's house, cooking with another family, enjoying enormous BBQs with plenty of rum and trying to understand the fantastically entertaining Chilean Spanish.
We visited the huge salt flats, punta de lobos surf spot and generally enjoyed soaking it all in.
A week later we hitchhiked to Santaigo (very common practice here) and spent the night in the city before heading over the Andes back to Argentina just in time to miss the earthquake.