Twenty minutes into the Ghana-Germany time and things are CRAZY. I struggle to think about a time where I've been in the midst of such a frenetic atmosphere of emotional highs and lows, and I come up with nothing.
There's a radio-sponsored party at the hotel bar, with the game projected outside, next to the bar itself. The viewers come prepared -- waving (or wearing) huge Ghana flags, sporting red-yellow-green afros, and blowing massively loud horns.
I've never experienced anything like it: every time Ghana drove towards Germany's goal, everyone was out of their seat, screaming, dancing -- even if the ball was nowhere near the goal. When the situation was reversed and Germany was in scoring position, everyone would again be out of their seats -- screaming, jumping, punching the air, punching walls, and wailing as though in literal physical pain. The fury was exponentially more frenetic and emotional than a Yankees-Sox game, and the noise louder than any concert I've been to. There was something so visceral and emotional about the entire experience that seemed to elevate the atmosphere so much more than a sporting match.
The emotional anger and fury came to a head at ninety minutes, when it was clear that even with extra minutes Ghana would not win. Screaming, punching, jumping.
...and then: dancing?! A live salsa band comes on (again sponsored by the radio station), and everyone just starts DANCING. It's incredible. After two years in India, I'm taken aback by all the flesh and sexy dance moves. My Indian colleague stands in awe. I ask her if she's ever seen salsa, and she answers: "once, on the television." It's a scene straight out of Dirty Dancing, where Baby finds the staff quarters where everyone shows off their moves, and Baby stands, jaw dropped.
I go to bed soon after, drifting off to the sounds of salsa outside.
Arriving early, dressed appropriately for the occasion. 
Hotel bar... it seems quiet and subdued, but this doesn't last long.
No comments:
Post a Comment