Footballing

I passed a lovely couple of hours wandering the streets of Valencia this morning. At least in the old town and the immediately surrounding suburbs, it’s a beautiful place.

But there was something in the air. There’s a sense of pregnancy. A sense of tension. Spain is in the World Cup final tonight and the local vibe is all about that. Everywhere you look there are people wearing the Spanish strip or carrying flags; and very occasionally there’s someone wearing an Argentina shirt.

Fountains have been fenced off to prevent people jumping in, there is the faint sound of horns beeping outside the pedestrian area where I’m staying, and the streets are strangely quiet, perhaps as everyone prepares for the game.

Argentina are not very popular here – partly it’s about how they got to the final, partly there’s an underlying issue that the locals see the Argentines are very bigoted and right-wing.

My chosen starting point for the Cup was a bar with people from my school. Maybe not full Spanish vibe, but a higher probability of a seat.

The second half, however, I went to the huge live screen in the main square. Unbelievably packed crowd, huge heat, no seat, and all atmosphere. Spain won…