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Bafana Bafana ....

…. Is the name of South Africa’s soccer team. We found a bar (amazing how easy it is to find a bar) and watched them beat France 2-1. A big upset over a team riven with dissention, that everyone hates (even the French). But it didn’t send all here dancing into the streets, because SA still failed to make it out of its group. Nosed out by Mexico.

NOTE TO ANDRES: This means that Mexico will play Argentina in the R/16 game—and we have tickets for it! I’ll scream for your team—even root against Messi, which breaks my heart—and give you a full report when I return to class. All in the past tense, so you and Patricia and Carlos and Norma can practice. (And Norma, I will cheer a little for Argentina).

The weather remains perfect. Nearly 70 during the day, frost at night. Haven’t seen a cloud in a week. Jo-burg remains a big friendly party. Everyone talks to everyone. We met a BP exec (maybe here in the witness protection program?) and a retired old NRA-hatted coot from ‘Frisco who say this is his ninth trip here, hunting “exotic animals.” We asked “What animals?;” he nattered off a half-dozen we had never heard of. Guess he wants to kill one of everything before he dies. NOTE TO GREG: I did not strip to reveal my Obama t-shirt beneath.

Tonight we stumble and fumble our way to Soccer City for Ghana v. Germany. NOTE TO CLAUDIA’s son: Deutschland uber alles. Before that, another bar, US v Algeria on TV.

No idea how to get back from the stadium:

“We’re going outside. We may be some time.”

Then, we’re off to Kruger for safari.

Posted by jfarq 00:35

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