La partita
Abbiamo vinto!! Forza Italia! I watched the game at Parco Sant'Angelo, a huge outdoor theatre, with probably a couple thousand others. There were also groups at every bar and restaurant in town, and at parties at peoples houses, watching it. You can't help but get into it because the Italians are so theatrical with their appreciation and displeasure. The resounding "Boooooo!! Brutto!! *various swearwords*" when Zidane performed his little headbutt number was overwhelming. Then again, I was just as loud as them. It's still a rotten thing to do, but in retrospect it's hard for me to believe exactly how outraged I was at that moment.
The kickoff at the end was one of the most intense moments of my life. There was a physically tangible amount of anticipation in the park, and explosions of joy for every goal the Italians made, and an even louder explosion when France missed. When we won, oh my gosh. Everyone hugging everyone, kissing strangers (I evaded this, though one of my girlfriends didn't) fireworks lit in that overcrowded space and simply held in hand. I have some freaking awesome pictures to show y'all. Afterwards, we all went to centro (Piazza 4 Novembre) for the most unbelievably huge party/concert I've ever seen. And I was right in the middle of it. They actually played a song by Rasmus. It made my night. Again, fireworks everywhere, some of which sounded like bombas, colors shooting into the sky, moshpit dancing, the works. My foot got stepped on so many times... Later, Kaitlin, Olivia and I followed Kelly to one of the best bars in town, Shamrock Irish Pub (I don't drink, but it's a very relaxed (and cute) underground bar) but we lost Kelly on the way. While waiting in vain for her, we were hit on by three very persistent 30-40 yr old Italian men. Summarized rundown:
Did you see the game? yeah. Beautiful, no? yeah, beautiful. Would you like something to drink? I don't drink. Can I have your phone number? I don't have a phone. Why not? I didn't buy one. Do you live at the hostel? No, I have an apartment. Can I have your phone number? (What?!) I don't have a phone! Do you want my number? (uh, no..) I don't have a phone. ...blablabla... You are very beautiful. Thanks. Will you meet me next week for a meal? Uh, I'm really busy. We can find a time! I have a boyfriend in the states. Doesn't matter, this it Italy! I can't. Why not? Can I bring a girlfriend? *Insert his semihurt, put-off look...* *american girls talk quickly* *Kaitlin says 'no, no', grabs my arm and Olivia's, and hauls us away very quickly.*
Okay, I don't feel like describing the rest of the nght in detail right now. There wasn't too much more. I went home at about 2 and washed the beer out of my hair.
The kickoff at the end was one of the most intense moments of my life. There was a physically tangible amount of anticipation in the park, and explosions of joy for every goal the Italians made, and an even louder explosion when France missed. When we won, oh my gosh. Everyone hugging everyone, kissing strangers (I evaded this, though one of my girlfriends didn't) fireworks lit in that overcrowded space and simply held in hand. I have some freaking awesome pictures to show y'all. Afterwards, we all went to centro (Piazza 4 Novembre) for the most unbelievably huge party/concert I've ever seen. And I was right in the middle of it. They actually played a song by Rasmus. It made my night. Again, fireworks everywhere, some of which sounded like bombas, colors shooting into the sky, moshpit dancing, the works. My foot got stepped on so many times... Later, Kaitlin, Olivia and I followed Kelly to one of the best bars in town, Shamrock Irish Pub (I don't drink, but it's a very relaxed (and cute) underground bar) but we lost Kelly on the way. While waiting in vain for her, we were hit on by three very persistent 30-40 yr old Italian men. Summarized rundown:
Did you see the game? yeah. Beautiful, no? yeah, beautiful. Would you like something to drink? I don't drink. Can I have your phone number? I don't have a phone. Why not? I didn't buy one. Do you live at the hostel? No, I have an apartment. Can I have your phone number? (What?!) I don't have a phone! Do you want my number? (uh, no..) I don't have a phone. ...blablabla... You are very beautiful. Thanks. Will you meet me next week for a meal? Uh, I'm really busy. We can find a time! I have a boyfriend in the states. Doesn't matter, this it Italy! I can't. Why not? Can I bring a girlfriend? *Insert his semihurt, put-off look...* *american girls talk quickly* *Kaitlin says 'no, no', grabs my arm and Olivia's, and hauls us away very quickly.*
Okay, I don't feel like describing the rest of the nght in detail right now. There wasn't too much more. I went home at about 2 and washed the beer out of my hair.