I say Soccer, You Say Football, and the Games Begin.

It's a bit of a teeter-totter of emotions, the month of June. The first exodus of expats out of Brazil happened just before the World Cup started, and as my friends were packing to go home I was happy for them, and jealous and annoyed. And the first day I sat in the park with the kid without our friends, I felt a bit of self-pity for myself, like the kid who slams into the ground when the friend jumps off the teeter-totter without notice. And the next day the World Cup started.

As I rode my bike home with the kid sitting in the back, the traffic was intensifying, and the sidewalks were emptying. The underground parking lot of our tower was full at 3 in the afternoon as our neighbors, all sporting their yellow soccer jerseys, were busy carrying up groceries and cases of beers for the Brazil vs Croatia opening game. In the surrounding towers we could hear people cheering, blowing horns and letting off fireworks in anticipation. We headed off to our friends' tower with our Brazilian flag and some snacks. Luckily they had booked their flight home the next day, so we could share with them the opening game. The game started, streets below were deserted and the neighborhood quiet, until Brazil scored. And the towers echoed thousands of people shouting, goooooooooooooooal at the same time, followed by a series of random firework explosions. What a thrill!

 

Neymar on the tube with our friends cheering him on!

Following the opening game, we've heard fans from all over the world shout out their football pride. One drunken Argentinian who was camping in a trailer van in front of our tower was singing his national anthem at the top of his lungs early one Sunday morning while I could hear a woman in a tower behind us yelling back at him "Bosnia"!! The television will be on most afternoons and nights for the next month and I look forward to the next Brazil game, as I suspect the atmosphere is going to get very intense.

Amidst all the excitement we missed "Dia dos Namorados", Valentine's Day, but remembered Canadian Father's Day.  And when I phoned my dad back in Vancouver, guess where my mom said he was? Watching a soccer game at a beer house with my brother. Perfect!