Viva la Espana! You can imagine the excitement and craziness here as Spain continued further and further through the World Cup bracket. Soccer is not just a sport in Spain, it is a religion. Futbol is one of the few things uniting a country that is incredibly regional (several different languages, strong regional cultural pride). I knew that if they made the finals, I had to celebrate in a major city, not a tiny village. Pushing really hard (about 70 km in 2 days), I arrived in Leon on the morning of the 11th. Already the city was a sea of yellow and red!
To watch the game, I went to a plaza in the city where el partido was being projected onto a large screen. Hundreds of fans crowded around, wrapped in Spanish flags, blowing on horns and banging on drums. Abuelos, children, jovenes, all types of people--booing in unison, cheering together, hoping for a monumental Spanish World Cup win. When finally la Roja scored a goal, a group of fans took off running down the street, waving banderas and hooting like banchees. I, of course, had to follow them. Running pilgram-style (more like a hobble, thanks to my blisters), I followed the crowd through the streets of Leon to the central plaza, where everyone jumped into the fountain. Splashing, yelling, high-fiving, throwing firework, banging drums, drinking vino. It was nearly a riot and I couldn´t help but marvel at the exuberance of this celebration (which would probably have been broken up by the police in the US). The entire plaza filled with fans and there were people climbing buildings, standing on top of bus stops and dancing in the streets. There were giant flags flying, a huge water fight broke out, men dressed like matadors danced together, old ladies hugged, firecrackers exploded. Incredible. The fiesta continued all night, but I finally returned to my hotel to fall back into bed at about 1 am.
One more note about the World Cup. In the US, you may or may not have heard about el pulpo (the octopus), but it Spain it was the hot topic. Apparently a women in Spain somewhere has a pet octopus. Before each Copa Mundial game, she showed the pulpo the flags of the two teams playing and gave the pulpo the chance to chose one. The pulpo has an 80 percent accuracy rate in chosing the winning team. Before the final of the World Cup, I heard Spaniards say things like "El equipo nuestro tiene que ganar. El pulpo lo dijo." ("Our team has to win. The octopus said so.") What a ridiculous and amazing superstition....
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