I woke fairly early and made my way downstairs for a glass of water and to catch up on home news on my phone so as not to disturb daughter child from her slumber. It was then that I realised that Sunderland, my team, were playing back in the UK. I sat and watched that on my phone trying desperately not to over celebrate as they ended up winning 4-0. It would have been a tough day for me if I had woken Costa Ricans up early!
One by one, the rest of the house joined me in the land of the living and we decided to head out for breakfast. We went to a local place called the Bread House which was very bright and modern looking and the inside gave off a vibe of colonial India for some reason. I think it was a combination of the furniture, the plants hanging from the ceiling or maybe the guy walking around the floor playing a violin to entertain customers.
Our waiter, Lopez, was a really nice young lad but it seemed to take a long time to get served. JP explained that, because we were English, he was scared of us as we were an unusual addition to the town and he felt intimidated by us. We did our best to be extra nice to him and make him laugh and I hope he was a little less nervous by the end.
I wasn’t feeling too hungry, maybe something to do with the half a ton of steak I had forced down my face the previous evening, so I just had a coffee and a slice of cake. I think Lopez was a little less intimidated by our group after that as I picked out a rainbow cake and faced a lot of abuse from everyone at the table as they suggested it was a gay pride cake and I was making a big announcement. Boy child wasn’t facing such problems with overfeeding, he followed up his barbeque with steak and gallo pinto for breakfast….living like a king and a local.
Our entertainment for the day was to meet up with Natty’s family and take in a football match. With Sunderland having won 4-0, would the football gods be with us for the day, I hoped so! Cartago versus Herediano was the game and it was a bit of a mismatch as Herediano were the bigger team and were expected to win pretty comfortably. It was also a local derby and so maybe it was going to be a little bit spicy.
I had been to the stadium before, many moons ago on my last trip to Costa Rica, and I was excited as this was like going to an old stadium in England before the money of the Premier League came to town.
We parked up and the feeling of anticipation and togetherness that you get at any game was very much present. I felt like we were in the middle of other people’s match day ‘process’ and the place that you park, the route that you walk and the things that you do and buy on the way to the ground all have a part to play in the result…it sounds crazy, even more so now that I have written it down, but football fans will understand.
We had tickets in the main stand and sat just behind the dugouts in the front row. A chap stood on the half way line with a remote control in his hand and controlled a four legged robotic and headless dog around the pitch. Not really sure why, but he seemed to be having fun.
The fans around us were passionate and cared. An old lady just to our right occasionally stood up and shouted aggressively at players, the referee or the small but vociferous group of opposition fans in the corner of the ground. The only word that I was able to pick out was ‘Puta’ which was not a word to be used in church.
As the game played out in front of us, the sun was beating down on us as various sellers of food and drink made their way around the fans selling water, crisps, mango, melon and all sorts of snacks that I didn’t recognise. There was no pie and no Bovril but, in that heat, that was a good thing.
One player really stood out, Marco Ureña, who played up front and was a proper old fashioned player, a ‘shit house’ to use the old fashioned term. He bullied the centre halves with his strength and aggression and would have made an excellent championship player in England; the fans would have loved him.
Millie, who isn’t really a football fan, is a fan of winding people up and watching people and so she was very happy. She decided to single out a player for Herediano and bully him from the stands, Hernan Faerron. At one point, as the players ran out for the second half, she shouted his name out and he turned to look to see who was shouting and she just shouted ‘Puta’ like the lady next to us. He didn’t seem too happy.
JP, who was sitting to my left, leaned across to Millie who was sitting on my right and warned her that Hernan Faerron was not to be messed with; he had previously jumped into the crowd to assault a fan that had been abusing him. This just seemed to egg Millie on a little bit more if I am being honest.
The kids were having so much fun that, at half time, they decided they wanted to visit the club shop and see what was available for souvenirs. They had just closed it and, after a quick conversation, a guy that looked important (as he had a walkie talkie) took us into the store. A couple of members of staff were busy counting up cash and clearly getting ready to leave but they had reopened the store just for us. Buying the cheapest pin badge in the store wasn’t going to be enough for such kindness and so both kids walked out of there with a brand new football jersey!
Around half way through the second half, with Cartago wining 1-0, my son turned to me and said ‘Dad, I am going to get Ureña’s top off him”. I laughed but there was a look about him that made me think that he was serious.
Cartago finished the game strongly and the momentum was very much in their favour. They scored a second and then Ureña put the cherry on the top with a third before being substituted with about 10 minutes remaining. The Cartago bench was just in front of us and, as he high fived his colleagues before sitting down, Tom shouted at him and he looked up. Tom made the internationally recognised gesture for ‘can I have your top please?’ and he looked puzzled as if anyone would want it and then nodded and pointed at the little gate next to the tunnel down to the changing rooms.
So, sure enough, little Tom set off at the final whistle to the gate and waited patiently while Ureña talked to the TV interviewers and, sure enough, he spotted Tom and took off his shirt and passed it to him. Insane.
It was dripping with sweat but had the smell of aftershave and fake tan on the collar. It turned out that the football gods were indeed with us that day. JP, Natty, her father and brother were all in disbelief, chatting about what Tom had managed to get hold of, as we made our way back to the car.
The car was full of chatter and smiles as we talked about the game and the crazy things we had just seen unfold in front of us. It felt like we were on a school trip we were all that giddy; a 3-1 derby victory can do that to you I guess!
We set off again, our destination being The Turrialba Volcano, high above us in the mountains. With every turn, and there were a lot of turns, the scenery got more and more beautiful.
This being a Sunday, I think a lot of people had had the same idea of taking a drive into the mountains. It seemed like every spare inch of grass to the side of the road had a car on it with families taking time to picnic in the sun and enjoy the crazily beautiful scenes around them. We were in the mountains and we could see Cartago below us and, often, clouds below us too.
At this height the grass was green and lush and almost Alpine in its feel. Large cows grazed the grasses and slowly chewed their way through the field. We were supposed to visit the visitors centre at the volcano but we didn’t realise that we needed to book tickets as there were limited places. It was a shame as it would have been nice to walk up to the top, but the little security hut at the car park was as far as we got.
We made our way back down the mountain and every time we passed a parked car, someone on a bike, a village, a café….anyone really, Millie shouted either ‘Vamos’ or ‘Azul Azul’ (the chant of the Cartago fans). It started off as a bit of a worry for JP as he thought his car might get stoned if we shouted at the wrong people, but it seemed like the locals had an idea that it was a crazy English family and joined in, shouting back at us with support and smiles and fist bumps.
I wonder today if those people went home, spoke to their families and said ‘you’ll never guess what happened to me today….”
With the light fading we made our way back down the mountain to a lovely little place called El Sitio. It is a cocktail bar and grill and we were meeting up with JP’s relatives for a catch up. They had kids roughly the same age as Millie and Tom and, after an initial hesitation when teenagers meet for the first time, they began to chat and get on famously.
Two families from thousands of miles away talking about how the kids are so similar with the same interests, sharing stories, laughing and joking. The world really is not as big as it seems sometimes. So many people just living their lives and wanting the same things, just with a different temperature!
For the third meal in a row Tom had steak (he was close to turning fully into a cow at this stage) and we had cocktails and beers until the sun dropped below the horizon. We took turns having our pictures taken on the outside gantry that had been built for this very purpose; the lights of Cartago below us sparkling like sunlight bouncing off the sea.
What a day. What a country. Pura Vida.
Itchy Feet and Titchy Feet 