El Classico, part 2

OK, the girls are asleep (for now) so I can continue the adventures of an idiot (me) standing between two groups of fanatics who want to kill each other (Racing and River fans).

So we last left our heros at the Racing game where it was sold out and filling up quickly. The supporters for each side were singing songs back and forth much like the old "WE GOT SPIRIT HOW 'BOUT YOU?" cheers from high school. Only much much louder. And with profanity. And really really derogatory, with references to parts of each other's mother's anatomy. And not about how ugly she is.

The climax of all the singing is pretty much the kick off. Now, what I should mention is the whole week the papers have been talking about every tiny aspect of this game. The recent history between the clubs most important to the match is that Gallardo, River's playmaker and captain, according to some sources was responsible for getting Merlo (then River's coach) fired. Merlo then got a job with Racing, where he is greatly loved. So whenever Gallardo touched the ball, all the Racing supporters start booing and whistling. An entire stadium of people whistling at you when you get the ball is pretty daunting. But I have to give Gallardo credit - he seemed very composed and creative on the ball regardless. In fact, during the second half, el Burrito (Ariel Ortega) went to take a corner and all the Racing supporters started throwing stuff at him - lighters, coins, broken glass - nothing too bad.... So Burrito (every player has a nickname here, he got his because when he was a kid he kicked a ball so badly they said he kicked like a donkey...) walks toward the ref with his hands out like "Dude, what the f? I can't work in these conditions!" Gallardo (or la Muneca - only with a ~ over the n) steps up and takes the corner kick. Now, given how much the fans are yelling at him, I got to give him a lot of credit - again - for showing the cajones to play through the rainstorm of hooligan paraphenalia.

Oh, and whenever Burrito touches the ball, the people around me start calling him Borracho - which means drunk. 'Cuz, you know, it sounds like Burrito, and the fan group is called Los Barrachos del Tablon, and if I have to explain this to you then maybe you should move on....

So late in the first half, Racing goes up 2-1. Bad news for River. But Los Borrachos del Tablon take it in stride and continue singing songs about how much they love River and how big of a whore the Racing fans are. Or their mothers. Or their - well, you get the picture. Only then Racing scores again in the second half to make it 3-1. All four of these goals were amazing. Racing scored all three of them against the run of play, and River's goal was like straight out of a video of the best goals of the last 10 years. At least from my angle, and bias. I bet if I saw the replay I'd be embarassed for saying that. Good thing the stadium doesn't have a big screen. I like my viewpoint more.

So after they go down 3-1, Racing starts defending with 9 players, and all the Racing supporters are really over the top with the singing and jumping and waving the arms and tempting fate by dancing on the precipice of the moat. And Tito and I sit comfortably in our chairs while the guy next to me is basically jumping up and down on my foot. With his 5 year old boy.

Let me tell you about them. I'll call the dad Papi. And let's call the kid Santiago (mostly because I like that name). So Santiago gets to the stadium with his dad, and he's pretty stoked to be there - he's got his Racing hat on and his dad is carrying a couple of his favorite toy cars. Because, well, obviously a 5 year old at a major sporting event needs his cars. Papi is dressed like a typical middle class - or possibly upper class - guy with his sports coat on. But it doesn't take long for it to become completely obvious that Papi is not just a fan. Clearly, he got kicked out of the Barra Brava for being to old, or because his wife threatened to kill him if he took Santiago into the throbbing mass of people standing behind the goal screaming songs about how much River fans run around like chickens. (River fans are called Gallitas - or hens. Boca fans are called Chanchos - pigs. I have no idea why, but there are like 5,000 stories for each.) So Papi, after every goal, jumps up and down basically on my lap while I try to bury my disappointment deeply in my hooded sweatshirt. Fortunately, it's cold, so I don't look conspicuous wearing my hood. But I do look conspicous not jumping up and down screaming my head off at each of the three - yes, three - Racing goals. And when River scored, I had to be content with turning to Tito and practically whispering "That was an amazing goal" while Papi screamed at the ref that he was too drunk to see that clearly he was offsides. Mind you, we are on the opposite end of the field, and have absolutely no ability to see if anyone was offsides, but Papi knows best. And now Santiago has a much bigger vocabulary. And then when River gets a few calls, and Papi starts describing parts of the refs female anatomy while jumping up and down on my foot, I'm thinking how nice it is that Santiago is getting his biology lesson while he is at the game. Of course, the word he used is also the word for a specific type of seashell, so Santiago may have just been curious why the refs mother had a collection of seashells.

But I had it all worked out. If at any point some Racing fan turned to me and determined that I had not shown the appropriate level of gratitude towards the team for scoring a goal, I planned on explaining in perfect English and horrible castellano that I was looking for a wing-back, because obviously I am a scout for a team - but if I were to get more specific than it would create problems because obviously if the team found out we were interested in a specific player they would start jacking the price. Each time Racing did something great, or the ref appeared to do something stupid, or River did anything at all, I rehearsed these lines carefully.

OK - this is getting long. Part 3 to come later, when I tell you about trying to leave a futbol game in Argentina. What? You think you can just get up and walk out? What are you crazy???

El Classico

For the uninformed, el classico in Argentine futbol is a big derby match. For those of you uninformed of British futbol, a big derby match is when two rival soccer teams from the same city play eachother. For those of you uninformed on soccer, it's like the World Cup, only bigger, but just for one city. Kinda' like the IRA in Ireland and the Ulster Unionists playing a rugby game. With weapons, of course. At least, before the IRA surrendered all their weapons, because I'm sure they can't get any weapons now....

What a bizarre tangent. I really have to do better at reigning myself in. So anyway, in Buenos Aires there are 6 teams in the city, and another 4 in the suburbs, and then another 4 in the province of Buenos Aires in the First Division. (I think that's right - it might not add up to 14, but it's a majority of the 18 teams anyway.) So instead of having just one classico (like Glasgow has Celtic vs Rangers - also known as the religious wars because it's the Catholics vs the Protestants, or the Papist pigs vs the hedonists), we have several. And then the really really big one, River v Boca, is the Super Classico.

Quick spanish lesson: In Buenos Aires, they don't speak spanish, they speak Castellano. In Castellano, we are slowly migrating to speaking English but with an Italian accent. So Super is now a word in Castellano. As is Delivery. I've got a friend who claims people say Thank You. I think he's drunk, and just hears things. He's American, so he may very well be drunk.

Back to the Classico. So Sunday Racing hosted River. (Tangent alert!) In futbol, you say the home team first. This is difficult for Americans, who give the visitors that courtesy. Now my father in law is a Racing fan, or as they say here, he's from Racing. I am from River (I married into River - Ana's brothers, mother, and mother's family are all from River). So naturally we went together. And naturally, when Tito bought the tickets, he got them for the expensive seats in the "visitor's section" so we weren't exactly sure if we'd be among Racing or River supporters. The truth is, the expensive "visitor's" section is always bought out buy the home team. The cheap visitor's section behind one of the goals is where all the visitor's fans really sit.

Racing is in a suburb just south of the city. Now, this particular suburb is very urban - very industrial. And Racing has a proud populist tradition, including naming it's stadium after their most popular fan: Juan Peron. (Unsure who Juan Peron is? He married a woman named Evita...) River's nickname is the millionares. Enuff said.

Getting to the game was interesting - we had to cross a bridge over the railroad bed that links up the Boca port. Crossing a bridge on game day is like trying to cross a bridge going into Washington at rush hour. So Tito and I planned ahead and left for the game a couple hours before kick off. And we got there in like 2 minutes. Oops. So we had a little bit of time to walk around the neighborhood, where I saw the hospital where my father-in-law met my mother-in-law. Yes they met at a hospital. No they weren't patients. They were med students. I guess Gray's Anatomy is true in Argentina, too.

So we walk into the stadium, and this thing is truly amazing. It's called the cylinder (because it's round) - well actually it's called Juan Peron, but it's nickname is the cylinder - and was built for the 1978 World Cup. This thing is amazing. It's one of the few stadiums in Argentina that doesn't have a huge fence between the field and the fans to keep them off the field. It has a trench. It took me a while before I noticed this, but around this immaculate pitch (british for soccer field) is this concrete trench that is deep enough that were you to fall into it (yes, there's water at the bottom like a moat - but no crocodiles) you would not be able to climb out on your own. And of course, fans were standing or sitting on the edge of the moat in order to be just a little bit closer to the field. Because, well, a true fanatic would never fall into the moat even during the most passionate of moments when everyone pushes forward after a goal is scored. Is that a tangent? I don't think so. Let me know if I go off on a tangent....

So since we are so early, and we go to our expensive seats ($15), I scope out the two most important things to note for later: food and bathroom options. Since we are in a section that can be delgated to visitors, it's blocked off from all the surrounding sections, and we have a bathroom just for our section. Score one for the convenience of short lines. Now the food. There's a guy standing right outside the bathroom (I'm not sure if that's good or bad) selling hamburgers. Well, technically, it's a hamburger. It reminds you of those disgusting things called hamburgers that you got in elementary school (if you were in a public school). If you were to be really really really hungry, you'd eat one. I did. I was hungry enough to finish it despite the fact that I don't think it was truly beef. Stadium marked up price? $1. So you need something to wash it down with, right? The guy had Coke. In 2 liter bottles. One 12 oz cup from his 2 liter bottle? $1. Apparently, that's where he makes all his money. (No, it's not cold, no there is no ice - but it was like 4 degrees celsius - or 40 degrees fahrenheit - outside, so I'm not worried about a cold beverage.)

Now, I can sit comfortably in my seat and wait for kickoff in two hours or so. Fortunately, there is a Reserve team game first, so we get to watch the reserve players play a full match - sort of. It was one really really long half, with unlimited subs. About half way through, Tito turns to me and says "Is it just me, or this reserve team game better than an MLS game?" Now I'm a big MLS supporter - DC United is my team, after all - but I have to admit that the reserve players had much better technical skill, tactical awareness, and played a very exciting attacking game that made some MLS games look, well, not so good. (Note to DC United - have a look at the right winger for River's reserve team!)

Because the Reserve teams are playing, the stadium is not very full, but the Barra Bravas for each team are there in full force. The Barra Brava is the term for the really die-hard fanatical fans who sit behind their team's goal, sing, wave flags, throw things at people they don't like (refs, other team's goalie, etc.), and generate an electricity in the stadium that is truly awesome. (Awesome in the true sense of the word - provoking awe - not in the surfer speak I usually use, which is just really cool.) During the reserve team match, and before the game starts, their songs generally have to do with the other team's barra brava. Often, the word puta is used. And a few other more colorful terms. Did I mention there was a 12 year old nearby who was jumping up and down, waving her arm, and singing all the songs? Including the putas and more off-color commentary? So this is really a family affair!

Incidentally, one of River's fan groups is called the Drunks at the Table. Well, in Castellano anyway. These are the guys who got barred from World Cup matches, fought with the police in Paraguay during the Copa Libertadores match, and allegedly trashed the players cars after the game against Racing. Allegedly. They say it was some guy named the Turk and his friends. I will bite my tongue for now on that little tidbit. As cool as it might appear to be a part of a group called the Drunks at the Table, I'm thinking I don't want to be a part of that particular fan group....

So, in summary, the fan groups here make the Hogettes (Redskins fans) look like a bunch of drag queens. Actually, I guess they do that themselves. Remind me to insert a picture of them here next to a picture of los Borrachos del Tablon.

So the stadium starts filling in, and we are clearly the least fanatical fans at the game. Tito, being a Racing supporter, is at least in the right place. I'm just determined to not jump up and scream my head off should River score. Hogettes might not like that much, but these guys would probably throw me up on the barbed wire fence that's separating us from even more die-hard fanatical fans for Racing.

This game is sold out. What that means is that they have sold a ticket for every seat in the sections where there are seats, and some ridiculously large amount for the standing room only section - which is like 3/4ths of the stadium. Except for the two sections between the River supporters and the Racing supporters - these two sections are completely empty in order to prevent fan violence. Even though there are barbed wire fences and riot police between them. Interesting comparison here - MLS counts attendance based on each ticket sold or given away (regardless if they actually attended the game). Here, they call it a sell out when two whole sections are empty in order to prevent the other oceans of fans from mingling. I wish I could describe the view I had of looking at the swarm of people jumping, singing and waving flags in support of their team. Oh wait, I think that's what I've been doing for the last couple of paragraphs!!!

OK, unfortunatley I have to finish this later because Sofia is now screaming her head off like a Drunk at the Table upset after the River loss.

SCHOOL'S OUT!!!!

So at the end of July and the beginning of August, all the schools close here for vacaciones. It's basically winter break with no holiday or, as far as I can tell, any particular reason. But it certainly rivals winter break in DC.

In general, Buenos Aires is a lot more kid friendly than Washington. There are a lot of activities, parks, and an overal kid-friendly atmosphere here than back in the District. But about a week before vacaciones we started getting inundated with advertising in all forms of different things that would be happening during vacaciones, which was convenient because I was starting to panic with the thought of trying to figure out how to keep Isa occupied for 2 whole weeks. I mean, I'm new to this whole stay-at-home dad thing and some days I'm completely at a loss of how to entertain her in at least a somewhat educational manner. I mean, 8 hours of television a day is a little too much, right? (Unless, of course, it's the World Cup - that is purely educational and cultural....)

So think about what you did during winter break - either when you were a kid or with your kids - and compare to what we did in two weeks. And please keep in mind that we probably only scratched the surface - there were a ton of things I wanted to take Isa to that were either too far or there just wasn't enough time. (And anyone who did something cool like go skiing in the Alps are immediately disqualified. No travelling allowed for this contest.)

First there was the Children's Book Fair. Now this might only sound fun to a librarian, but they had a TON of things for kids: face painting (that's almost obligatory here), indoor playground, guitar building for older kids, various arts and crafts, story-telling by various Argentine writers, a fun with science show, various dancing, singing, etc. etc. Oh, and probably every book in print for kids in various languages (yes, including swedish...). It was HUGE (an entire convention center) and also had symposiums for writers of children's books, and was going on for two weeks. We went for an afternoon and I planned on returning with Isa to do a lot more stuff, but never had the time.

Then there was children's theater. Isa went to the ballet (twice), and she saw at least 4 plays with various people. At one point she was going to the theatre every day with her abuela and various friends. And I'm not at all exaggerating when I say that if she went to every play in Buenos Aires going on for kids, it would take over a month.

A couple of times we went to museums. Isa really likes art museums (I feel like I'm cheating when she goes to the museum and she likes it - like I've tricked her into eating fruit instead of chocolate). So she saw Lichtenstein, I think Picasso, and a bunch of Argentine contemporary artists. She never made it to the Children's Museum which is supposed to be awesome, because we figured it would be too crowded.

Every mall (probably to attract your spending dollars) had various activities, so on rainy days we headed off to the mall for cooking class (this was a bit of a joke - one of them was how to make ice cream sundaes sponsored by the ice cream store), arts and crafts, and story telling. Plus the malls all have indoor playgrounds (some free, some not) that Isa ran around in even though it's cold and wet outside.

Oh - the movies! Isa saw Cars and an Argentine movie called Raton Perez. You see, apparently the Tooth Fairy had her passport revoked, and she is only allowed to take teeth in the US. In Argentina, there's a rat named Perez who comes and takes your teeth from under your pillow and leaves you either money, candy, or a toy. I think the candy is ironic. Regardless, there is a move that is half cartoon half movie (like Roger Rabbit) about Raton Perez. It's a long story, but at the end it gets kinda' scary for a little kid, so we had to take off. I was bummed because it was totally the big event for the day and Isa and I were going alone for daddy daughter time. She got scared and wanted her mommy. Of course.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Sof was rolling over and asking for Dada. At least one of them loves me.

Playdates - I met more parents from school during vacation than I met from dropping off and picking up Isa at school. She went to so many kids houses (and vice versa). At the last one, I wasn't sure how well it would go, and as soon as we got there, Isa turns to me and quietly says in English "Daddy, you can go now and come back and get me later."

So I went home and played with Sof. She loves me. Of course, I'm the one with the food in her world, so....

And of course she went to the club for her weekly gym class (for lack of a better description) where she plays sports-type activities and swims in an indoor pool for three hours. She loves it. Almost as much as ballet class she started today.

And there was a birthday party. I think I've written about birthday parties here. If not, I'll quickly summarize. Take the best kids birthday party you have been to recently in the US. Add fireworks on the cake, loud music, make it 3 hours with hired professional entertainers, and then give it a shot of steroids, and you might get close. The kids eat so much junk food and soda (3 year olds drink Coke here) that when the cake comes out, most of them don't want any. Can you imagine your four year old saying "No thanks, I don't want cake"? I can't. Isa usually eats it anyway. That's my girl!

But the icing on the cake of vacaciones was the arrival of the abuelas from Washington. Not only did they come bearing gifts (parents beware of grand-parents bearing gifts), but they wanted to spend a lot of time with Isa taking her to all these things that I probably will never know about. Just as it should be....

I can't help but feel like we got ripped off by growing up in America....