DAY 119: In the U.S.A., "football" refers to the classic American sport where teams of padded warriors duke it out under their coaches' plays, so they can ultimately work their way to the Big Game where Janet Jackson gets her boob flashed on national television. In the rest of the world, "football" refers to what Americans call "soccer," and it is an international phenomenon which brings out the obsessed craziness in most people. No where is football (soccer) more a part of national culture than in Brazil.

As if timing couldn't be more perfect, Lara and I had arrived in Rio de Janiero in time for Brazil's Caroica 2004 semi-finals. On that Sunday, it was the place to be, even if you weren't Brazilian. Luckily the Botofogo Easy Hostel made it easy to be a part of it, with tickets and transport for just R$50.

After a lazy morning, Lara and I joined the twenty or so others spread over two mini-buses to the Estadio Jornalista Mario Filho for the crazy madness of Brazilian football. We made our way through stadium traffic and found ourselves at the entrance of the stadium where thousands of fans across the street were already jumping and twirling their shirts in the air in support of the favored Rio-based team, Flamengo. The red and black uniformed team was up against another Rio-based team Vasco. The crowd was already cheering during the pre-match match of the minor leagues of the two teams.

Our group had decent seats in the upper tier with the thousands of crazed and fanatic Flamengo fans. Some brought huge banners to spread across their entire sections, others brought huge flags to wave around like they had just taken a fort, and those without props just waved their shirts in the air (picture above). Everyone knew the words to the various chants and songs to scream to the other side of the stadium supporting the other team -- everyone that is, except us gringos, but we improvised with the "ooh"s and "aah"s, the rhythmic clapping, the yelps, the arm swaying and occasionally, the doing of "The Wave." Lara who wasn't normally a beer drinker, got into the swing of things and bought cans of Brahma with me from the stadium vendors walking through the rows. It only enhanced the Brazilian football experience.

We watched the match with the rest of the group and although it was exciting -- way more exciting than just watching it on television -- it could have been crazier. The game was too easy for our favored team; they beat Vasco 2, nil. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a downer, but being in Brazil, I thought things would have been a lot crazier. In fact, for the two English sisters from the hostel, the most excitement of the day was when one got her camera stolen out of her pocket during a beer run during the first half.

AFTER THE VICTORY OF OUR TEAM FLAMENGO, the stadium cleaned out and took to the streets. It wasn't as rowdy as I thought it'd be, probably because they stopped serving alcohol at half time. A group of us went out after the game to fill the void at the pizzeria across the street from the hostel. Everyone but Lara and I seemed to take the rowdiness too far, yelling at the waiter or just bitching about the quality of the food.

"1981ers?" Lara whispered to me.

"Definitely." It was more supporting evidence of my theory that people born after 1981 were just rude and ungrateful of others -- although there are exceptions out there. Lara got so embarrassed sitting at the table with the big group that she just put her money in and left. I stayed a little bit longer but left after David the Aussie really starting belittling the poor waiter. The 1981ers continued to be loud as I left back for the hostel.

If only the concession stands at the football stadium served beer after halftime, perhaps the rowdiness of the westerners could have been put to good use.