For our last full day in the city, the three of us had bought tickets to a match between Allianza Lima and Juan Aurich. We looked forward to the game with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Anticipation was in the fact that Peru was known to have exciting games with spirited fans. At the same time, we had heard that those fans had a tendency to get rowdy, violent actually. It was something to watch out for and one of the reasons that we had sprung for twenty soles seats in El Oriente to keep away from the ten sole area behind the goal, El Sur, where fans were the most hardcore.
I started the day with a ten mile run with Max and Ben around the park and then went to Tottus, the local supermarket to pick up necessary supplies. Ben and had planned on hitting La Museo de Naccion, which features Peruvian artwork, but Rico told us that we should make every effort to get to the game early, partly to avoid the violent crowd that arrived later. He also warned us that the neighborhood the stadium was in was bad and that we should be careful that the taxi taking us from the game didn't go the wrong direction--to somewhere else in town where we could be kidnapped and robbed. If we couldn't get a taxi immediately, Rico told us, we should take the first available bus and get a ride in a different neighborhood. With these, instructions, we were all feeling fairly paranoid as we arrived at the game.
To be sure, when we saw the part of town that housed the stadium, we saw the usual decrepit buildings and stray dogs but there was nothing approaching the destitution of the run we took through Cerro Rosalito. By the time we arrived, a fair-sized crowd of fans, vendors and scalpers had gathered outside the entrance. I turned down the offers of tickets and street food and went in.
Security was serious. First, we had to present our tickets and then got pat downs. Next a security guard waved a tube at me. I didn't understand at first but then saw that I was supposed to breath into it so that they could inspect my breath for booze. Fortunately, none of us had pre-gamed for the event, so this was a non-issue. The security measures in the stadium wouldn't allow alcohol sales, but there was plenty of spirit all the same.
In the ten nueva sol seats in El Sur, the rowdies were already standing and cheering for the pickup match below us. When the game started, they were just as fun to watch as the action on the field. They remained on their feet the whole game--stretching banners across the seats and stomping and clapping to various complicated rhythms. Most impressive was the fact that they could sing and kept singing for the whole game. I'm not talking about that ley oh ley crap belted out by boozy brits; these guys had real melody. They had the lyrics memorized to complicated soccer songs, and sang them with a depth of passion and skill that made the notes ring clear and unmuddied even though there must have been a thousand voices going at once. They had some sharp instrumentals on the horn and drums to guide the music. I even recognized one of the songs, Nunca te Olvidare from a Chicha CD I had taken out from the Union Library. Really. They had changed the lyrics so that instead of saying, I will never forget you, it said that Allianza would never lose.
The people in the stands where we were sitting cheered and clapped, but were far eclipsed by the El Sur crowd. The two sections had a barbed wire fence between them where police in riot gear stood at attention, sweating under the hot sun which broke through the fog for about an hour.
Despite, or perhaps because of the draconian security measures no riots or any other violence broke out. There were only two explosions in the stands. One, blew up over our heads around halftime. Another went of in the Sur stands shortly after Allianza scored a goal and a plume of smoke rose up from the cheering fans.
With victory all but assured for the home team, the crowd began its exodus from the stands. We went with the flow and got outside where we were able to quickly hail a cab. Fortunately, nobody tried to kidnap us or strip away our possessions. All things considered, it was an enjoyable, successful day out.
We capped things off with Pisco Cathedrals at the Bolivarcito, large glasses brimming with delicious fizzy green alcohol. Though we the hotel looked like it would be a tourist draw, as far as we could tell there were only Peruvians in the bar. That is until a pack of white folk settled into the table in front of us.
As the Pisco Cathedrals got lower, we became more interested, some might say obsessed as to guessing where they might have come from. They looked like they were wearing European clothes, but we couldn't peg them for any particular nationality. It was hard to guess because we couldn't hear what language they were speaking in over the bar noise. Over twenty minutes we guessed that they might have come from Sweden, maybe Israel or Eastern Europe. Finally, we gave up and concluded that they were probably boring Americans like ourselves.
But it was not enough. Ben and Max had already gone on spy missions past their table to see if they could overhear their conversations; now the responsibility fell on my shoulders to ask them flat out.
Hey, you guys wouldn't happen to be Americans would you?
The group looked at me like I was some kind of alien, and then one of the guys told me in pretty good English that they were Italian. I had planned on asking some more questions because I had been pretty sure that they were academics, but they gave off an unfriendly vibe so I went back and rejoined my own group of gringos for a round of beers.
Assholes.
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