Futbol

While Emily was visiting me in Montevideo, we went to a futbol (soccer) game at the estadio central (which also happens to be where Uruguay won the first World Cup in 1930 for all you sports fans out there).


The game was fun, although I felt a little out of place for three major reasons.

1. We were two women in a sea of testosterone.
2. We didn't know the cheers of the "barra brava" (aka. crazy futbol fans, mostly 19 year old boys with firecrackers and drums)
3. I dressed inappropriately. I knew our team's colors were blue and black because I made a specific point to ask someone which colors to wear. But, it was rather cold that night so I wore my red coat over my blue and black shirt only to find the other team showed up in red. Great.


And on topic of discomfort, my stomach was less than pleased with me that evening as well. I have never eaten a more greasy hamburger in my entire life. My stomach gurgles just thinking about it. The bread's only function was to sop up the grease from the burger. And the woman I bought it from touched my money and then touched my hamburger. Yummy.

But even more yummy was the torta frita (fried dough) we had afterwards. There's just something about sports stadiums and fried foods together--they're universal.