Via Madrid

June 10/11 Days 1 and 2

For so many years we had heard about South Africa's exotic beauty and bountiful natural resources. Over so many months we planned and prepared for attending Africa's first World Cup. Finally, finally, June 10, the day, arrives. Our evening Delta flight left Atlanta reasonably on time, avoiding a back-up from a passing thunderstorms line, a common summer hazard. We were airborne and JNB-bound! What sights, what experiences, what adventures awaited us in mysterious Africa?

We stumbled upon Madrid as a way station for Johannesburg transit. Non-stop USA flights are few. Madrid is well south in Europe, cutting a couple hours of travel time compared to the northerly neighbors.

Night air travel overseas to a foreign land comes with a mystical sensation. The planes hurdle through darkness for hours, and, finally, the breaking dawn reveals some faraway place, the earth and seas barely visible from on high.

The most distinctive feature of Madrid's airport is the miles and miles separating the terminals. There are no buildings in between, only undulating dry brown land with green splotches, and a spaghetti-like confluence of roadways. Only an aficionado of the Hong Kong cross-harbor tunnel approaches could appreciate the maze.

Executing our careful plan we headed straight for a day room at the Airport Hilton. The Delta aircraft's seats had not been designed for comfort, at least for taller passengers. We slept little, Brian hardly at all. However, a few hours' bed sleep and a good shower prepared us for heading to the city center in search of a venue to watch the opening match, South Africa v. Mexico. Off the Plaza Mayor, we quickly found a small classically-European tavern. The floors were wood planks, and the ceiling wood-panel squares, each with a separate inscription.

The patrons were overwhelmingly supporting Mexico. Indeed the whole neighborhood revealed a surprising number of persons wearing the trademark green Mexican national team jerseys.

We lamented South Africa's entering its own World Cup with one of its weaker teams. However, Bufana Bufana, the national team nickname, surprised with swift, effective counter-attacks. Mexico played deliberately, even sluggishly. Ultimately, with a superb strike off yet another counter-attack, the South Africans went ahead. The game was on! We imagined how World Cup fever instantly surged among all African fans! However, Mexico slipped behind the South African defense and escaped with a tie. Still Bufana Bufana counterattacked, and only a sturdy goal post saved Mexico from defeat.

We streamed out with the other fans into Plaza Mayor. There was amazingly little evidence of any Spanish fandom. As a world heavyweight, a tournament favorite and the reigning Euro 2008 champions, we thought we would see Spanish national team patriots everywhere. Dignified Madrid was surprisingly quiet, however.

We searched for an open restaurant, which is not so easy in Madrid even after 7:00 pm. Eventually we found a restaurant and ate seafood soup and seafood tapas, for which Madrid is known, though no sea anywhere close.

We finished, darted out and hailed a taxi back to the Airport Hilton Bar for France v. Uruguay. We found surprisingly little English spoken in Madrid, but the language local was so familiar to American ears, Spanish, of course. Rather a quaint touch, we thought.

France - Uruguay was a dud. FIFA's 19th century rules encourage playing not to lose and though the talent on both sides promised more, indeed nobody lost, a 0 - 0 tie. "If I ran the FIFA Zoo, I'd make some 21st century rules, that's what I'd do! I'd ruminate, I'd regulate and then I'd make a World Class World Cup, yes, that's what I'd do, if only I ran the FIFA Zoo."

Following that snoozer, we took the shuttle to the airport. Finally we found the World Cup atmosphere. For the Iberia flight to Johannesburg, fans gathered from all over the globe. We saw partisans from Algeria, Argentina, Brazil, Cameroon, Denmark, England, Germany, Portugal. And the USA. Surprisingly, we did not see one Spanish fan. Perhaps Spain's initial game being several days away, on Wednesday, was the reason. The Argentine fans were the most boisterous; two different groups unfurled large banners, chanting, and singing.

As we boarded the plane, our World Cup experience had arrived, though of course we were nowhere near the site. Our anticipation rose, as, at last, we were poised for the final flight, again through the night sky, across the Mediterranean and down the entire African continental length. Who could not be excited?