A few weeks ago I realized I would be tooling around Europe during the World Cup finals, and that one of my stops was favored to win. I changed the plans so we could be in Madrid for the finals, just in case they made it and . . God willing, actually won. I could not be happier, since (as everyone should know) that did happen. Madness. Complete and utter madness.
First of all Madrid was more than just world cup parties. We visited the Prado museum which introduced me to a new favorite painter, De Goya. He paints portraits of people how they actually looked rather than making them more attractive, and the realism is striking. We also saw the Reina Sofia modern art museum, which houses the Geurnicia (sp?) by Picasso. The Royal Palace was the coolest house ever, and I want to live there. Madrid also had the greatest street performers. These were not your average guy playing a guitar - it would be a guy playing a guitar while shoved inside a puppet and making the puppet play for him. These people really worked for their money. Some other good ones we saw were: a toilet, out of which a different animal popped out each time someone flushed money down, and man dressed up like a dragon (complete with 6ft wings), some guy who covered himself in red clay and sat with another statue all day, an asian man serenading puerta del sol in spanish, a belly dancer in a full outfit (she was ok).
Blah blah blah. On to the World Cup. Things we pretty quiet on Friday and Saturday. We bought t-shirts (my first souvenir since I've been in Europe. Baller). Mine says (in Spanish) Spain vs. Netherlands world cup final Fifa 2010. It's awesome. On Sunday things started to get crazy pretty early. Everyone was wearing their Espana shirts all day, running around in flags and blowing vuvuzela. I really hate that musical instrument. Random cheers would flare up in the street throughout the day. Maggie got more and more anxious as the Spanish got louder an louder.
We asked the guy at the hostel where they were putting big screens up, and he told us everything was at the Real Madrid stadium. We wanted to get there early to get a good spot . . . the metro was insane, with people just running around and screaming. However, when we got to the stadium there was nothing there. Nothing but a bunch of confused angry fans and vendors who had set up for the crowds. Apparently out hostel guy was wrong. After speaking broken Spanish, English, and Italian with a few people, we found out Colon was the place to be. We basically ran back to the metro while I fumed. I couldn't be too mad though, since half of Madrid thought it was there too.
We got of the metro at Colon and stumbled upon a sea of red and yellow. Just thousands and thousands of people. It's hard to find the words to describe that view. There were a bunch of screens set up, so I took off to find a good spot. We jostled our way into the hot, sweaty crowd to a descent spot. Everyone around us was smoking, drinking, and screaming. I think I smoked two packs of cigarettes second hand. Fans were on top of bus stops, signs, statues, whatever. Some girl climbed a tree and people just threw alcohol at her, trying to knock her down. It was disgustingly hot, and being in a crowd of people unable to move because it is so packed just made it worse. But it was Madrid, and this was the WORLD CUP, so it was worth it. There is now sangria and red/yellow paint all over my clothing, but I'm just embracing it.
Everyone was getting antsy as the game progessed into the second half and the score was still 0-0. Spain was dominating, but still could not get that goal. Everytime it came close, the crowd went nuts. Everytime there was any attempt at a goal, even if it was a horrible shot, there was ridiculous applause. Teenagers all over were drinking more than they could handle, and a bunch of kids were getting sick.
The game went on and into 30 minutes overtime. I would be horrified if it went to penalty kicks, because that is just annoying for the finals. The crowd was starting to get anxious. Finally . . it happened. Spain scored! Everyone lost their minds. I have a video, but the first half is super shaky because I just started running and jumping around into the crowd. I have never seen so many people so excstatic at the same time. It felt amazing to cheer and shout with everyone. Even the waiters in the nearby restaraunts came ran out into the square. That was it - Spain had won the world cup. We bolten to the metro station so we could join the big party in Puerta del Sol. Everyone one the train was just screaming and playing the vuvuzelas. When we climbed the metro stairs to Sol, what we encountered was pure madness. People running around wearing flags and carrying beers, dozens people jumping and swimming in fountains, people climbing any and every structure. I just ran into the fray, but I had to come back for Mags and Kate. We bought some beer from some guy on the street, and joined the party. We just walked the streets and cheered with everyone. I climbed a lamp post and made friends with the people who helped me down, although one turned out to be a creeper so we ran off. People we just selling beer all over . . and it was cheap. No shortage. We basically just went with the Spanish crowd and did what everyone else as doing. Back in Sol I climbed a big lion statue and made friends with everyone up there. There were a bunch of people climbing this scaffolding, but Kate and Maggie grabbed me and refused to let me go up. I was just in a climbing mood! I really wish I had gotten on that scaffolding haha. The party continued all night, and we stayed out for the best of it. Everyone was just so happy, and this was one of my favorite experiences thusfar. I really don't know if this will ever happen again, unless the U.S. pulls it together and wins one of these times . . . or if Italy wins again ;)
When we left our hostel at 7am for the airport, there were still a bunch of people out and drinking. Everyone on the train was silent and looked horrible (those going to work). A few drunk people got on singing, but at that time it wasn't entertaining. Especially because I was trying not to throw up.
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