Wednesday, Sept. 10, 2003 - 7:50 p.m.
Bolivia vs. Columbia
This morning Helene ran to the bank to get money for the jungle trip. I decided to wait to go to the jungle, since I was fighting a cold and still had sore fingers (still couldn't take my rings off!). I really wanted to go to the jungle with Helene, despite the fact that she was only going for one day. When she returned she told me she couldn't get any money either, so she was not going to go to the jungle after all. I was sorry she'd miss the jungle, but glad to have another day to hang out with her. We went out for lunch and afterwards, decided to return to the hostal to get a few things before going out sightseeing.
As we were entering the hostal, Raul and another young guy were coming out. Raul had a large Bolivian flag on a stick, the other guy, named Grover, who also works at the hostal, was wearing a Bolivian flag as a cape, tied around his neck. Raul, who has very good English, reminded us there was a football (soccer) game that day by saying "Bolivia vs. Columbia for the World Cup. 50 Bolivianos...Are you coming?"
Helene and I looked at each other for a moment. 50 Bolivianos? That's less than 10 dollars! We made a snap decision to go, rushed up to our room, grabbed some money & camera and dashed back outside to join them. We caught a cab to the stadium, spirits ran high. Along the way, in afternoon traffic, we learned a little more about the game. I'd thought the game had already started, but it really began in 15 minutes, at 4pm. Raul said he didn't think it would be crowded because he said most people couldn't afford 50 Bolivianos for a game. It's true, I read that after Guyana, Bolivia is the poorest country in S.America. That's why it's so cheap.
Soon we were hurrying along the side streets next to the stadium, trying to get past the police barricades to buy tickets. Since we didn't have tickets, we weren't allowed entry and had to keep walking until we found a place we could enter. We crusied down the street, hearing the roar of the crowd inside. It was 4pm exactly. We headed towards the stadium and found the place where they were selling tickets. It was pure chaos. Only one small ticket window out of a hardware store was selling tickets and people were pushing and yelling, bills in raised hands trying to get to the window. We sort of stood there in the facade of a cue, not wanting to enter the "mosh pit" of people, mostly middle aged men. It reminded me of the student protest-turned ugly that I got caught in the middle of in Sydney, Australia 5 years ago. I was none to eager to relive the experience, keeping a safe distance from the mayhem.
At one point, a man emerged gasping from the crowd, several tickets in hand. People immediately globbed onto this person, wanting to buy them from him, including Raul. I quickly handed him cash for Helene and I. Hurried excited voices, paper money flying and in one quick moment, it was over. Raul's dissapointed voice rose from the aftermath, "Too late!" He moaned. We didn't have the money in time to purchase the tickets.
Helene and I marveled at the disorganization and crazyness of the ticket buyers. Then the police stepped in with sticks and started barking at the crowd, ordering them to form a line. I scoffed. Latinos are notorious for not respecting a cue, so why would they suddenly comply in the frenzy of buying tickets to a huge sporting event, the most popular sport on the continent? I recognized that we were going to be unable to reach the ticket window ourselves.
I was surprised for several reasons. While there may have been other small outlets selling tickets elsewhere, in Cuenca they have many windows surrounding the perimeter of the stadium (not all are always open, but they would have more than one window open for such an event). Also, in Cuenca, there are always tons of scalpers, people milling about selling tickets, usually for only 50 cents more than the actual cost. There didn't seem to be any of that here. I could tell Raul and Grover were getting discouraged and soon after Raul suggested we go to a restaurant or bar with a TV and watch the game there. I was really disappointed and so was Helen, having not ever been to a football game in S.America. I suggested we persevere, there could be more people who emerge selling tickets, but at this point the two guys had already started walking away. I looked back on the chaotic crowd one more time and then followed them.
About half a block later, after walking past people selling all sorts of soccer stuff, Grover bounded into the street where a woman was huffing up the hill with tickets in her hand. Like a swarm of bees, immediately she had people surrounding her, everyone was talking at the same time. Raul was right in the mix, he still had my money and managed to secure us 4 tickets for 90 Bolivianos (about $12) each, almost twice what we expected to pay. But we didn't care, we were elated! We were going to go to the football match after all! Helene and I quickly got Bolivan flag stripes painted on our cheeks & then we ran to the stadium like there were wings on our feet and in our hearts.
We entered another mass of people at the gate, flashed our tickets and pushed thru the crowd to get in. The others got in before me and then police officers blocked my way, not differentiating between me and others who didn't have tickets. Put on the spot, my Spanish faltered, but after I moment I was allowed entry. We were all searched, they took Helene's plastic water bottle and the stick that held Raul's flag. We hurried inside, the game had already begun.
As we crested the stairs into the stadium the crowd roared and then I saw the field and the game and the crowd in the bright afternoon sun. It was a glorious sight. The stadium was maybe twice the size as the one in Cuenca and almost completely full (except for the first few rows in front on the lower level, we were on the second level). It looked like everyone was rooting for Bolivia. People had flags and hats and soccer jerseys, a sea of red, yellow and green, the colors of the Bolivian flag.
We found a seat and were mesmerized by the events of the field for the next hour and a half. The score was 1 to 0, Bolivia, when we arrived. People were shouting and sometimes blowing horns. I got high on the surrounding energy. Bolivia wore green, the Columbians (who were a little more aggressive) wore their flags colors, yellow, blue and red (same as Ecuador).
Within about 10 minutes Bolivia scored another goal and everyone left to their feet, shouting and waving their flags, blowing their horns and confetti and pieces of paper flew in the air. Some streamers were thrown out on the field and a few smoke bombs of yellow, red or green were lit and thrown on to the track surrounding the field. Then the crowd began to chant "BOH-LEE-VYAH! BOH-LEE-VYAH!" It was magic. This game was definately the best football game I'd ever been to.
I learned that the football game happening when I arrived in Puno was also for the World Cup (Peru vs. Paraguay in Lima. Peru won). I wondered at that time if Ross and James were there at the game, their flight didn't leave until 1AM the next day, that night. I learned later that their Cusco to Lima bus broke down so they weren't able to go to the game. However, they were able to get to Mexico alright.
Throughout the game the Bolivians played hard and it seemed every 20 minutes or so they scored a goal. Our seats were near one of the field, so during the second half we had a nice view of the Bolivians making great goals. Near the end of the game it was apparent that the Columbian players were really tired (it makes sense since they were playing a professional soccer game at 3,632 meters!). I think the Bolivians have not only the home court advantage, but also the advantage of being accustomed to the altitude. Raul told us later that the Colmbians never complain about the altitude when they play in La Paz, although other countries do.
It was no contest, the Columbians never managed to score a goal. The final score was 4 to 0, Bolivia. But it still was a blast of a game. Helene and I kept our face paintings the rest of the day.
