The Friendly City...sans the Internet

PORT ELIZABETH--Having burned through most of my rand in Cape Town, I was hoping I could enjoy a day in Port Elizabeth on the cheap. But as one person told me on a bus ride Tuesday night: “You’re an American. The conversion rate makes you rich.”

In South Africa weather goes up the cape from west to east. Meaning, the rain and cold I enjoyed in Cape Town was also here in PE.

Our bus arrived a few moments before 7 a.m. With the rain exacerbating the chilly air, I was not in a mood to explore the city in search of breakfast before taking a taxi to my bed and breakfast. The first three times I called my accommodation to set up a taxi the phone rang for eternity.

After beginning to lose the veneer of patience and arriving within a dangerous proximity of showing how much of an American ass I can be when annoyed, I asked whether the bus company knew of a taxi service. In what can only be described as an angel looking out for me, a woman behind the Intercape counter told me she would catch a taxi for me that would take me to the Park Plaza Bed and Breakfast.

A conversation with the taxi driver allowed me to remember why I was in Port Elizabeth in the first place—to see a pair of world class soccer players in the World Cup.

Tuesday’s game between Cote d Ivoire and Portugal was the talk of the town. Featuring Didier Drogba and former World Player of the Year Cristiano Ronaldo, as well as other players who are known throughout the soccer world, the match was one of the most anticipated of the group stage.

I dropped off my big bag at the bed and breakfast and went to see the city and find food. The wind was whipping in off the Indian Ocean, making it paramount I figured out PE’s public transportation sooner (warmer) than later (chillier).

The Beachfront is a popular place with locals and tourists alike, so I spent a few hours there. I bought a brunch that was twice as much as I thought it would be because I didn’t speak clearly. So much for the South African perception that Americans enunciate more than they do; or the thought of me saving money during my day here.

I went to the hotel to take my first shower in two days. After reading my professor’s Facebook post about Cote d Ivoire this spring, I put on warm clothes and found as much orange and green as possible so I could show my support for the Elephants, even if my hands were in my pockets and my vuvuzela remained quiet.

(No one here asked me what FAMU meant, but it didn’t matter. I’m too proud a Ratter to travel internationally and not let people know who educated me.)

I met George, a Lisbon resident who lived for Jacksonville for three years, on a bus that took us to Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium. He showed me a couple pictures from the time he spent earlier in the week playing with a six month old tiger. We spoke about his team’s chances, Ronaldo’s penchant for unnecessary diving and how the U.S. surprised a lot of people with its draw against the Three Lions.

Our bus approached the beautiful stadium, which is no more than two kilometers from the bay, about an hour prior to kickoff.

George excitedly ran inside to see how his Portuguese side looked in training. Meanwhile, I meandered about taking it all in and snapping pictures of the stadium and the city in the background. I arrived at my seat—in the upper deck, but right at midfield—just in time to shoot pictures of both teams training.

Had I brought more clothes, I would have been more demonstrative about the contest. Nevertheless, I was very happy to be in a stadium with so many world class players. Fortunately, for me and the Elephants, Cote d Ivoire captain Didier Drogba recovered enough from an arm injury to take the field for the final 25 minutes of the match.

The game was a stalemate that ended scoreless. Neither team really tested the opposing goalkeepers as Ronaldo won Man of the Match almost solely on reputation alone.

It took a while, but I made it back to my bed and breakfast in time to catch the prime time contest between Brazil and North Korea. Knowing I had to give the bed and breakfast R625 for my room, I left at halftime in search of an Internet cafe or a wireless hotspot to make a seamless transfer.

But things were not as they seemed.

Port Elizabeth may have Internet connectivity, but it’s certainly not comparable to what is available in the United States. The more places I went, the more I became frustrated. Finally, after losing enough cool to chill the seaside city by myself, I stormed back to my hotel fuming at the prospect of the dearth of online options.

My girlfriend and I worked it all out. As I said my prayers Tuesday, I expressed thanks for the trials placed before me that day.

That adversity led to a conversation Wednesday morning that once again highlighted the differences between South Africa and America. This time it was South Africans who were wondering aloud why things were unintentionally complex.

The Tweet that made my heart sink

I’m completely new to this Twitter game.

I used to find the short messaging service the most inane waste of time until my girlfriend convinced me it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get an account to help my chronicle South Africa.

With few ideas about what to do and fewer people following me, I thought my foray into this social medium would be as gentle as the one I will have tip toeing into the Indian Ocean off the coast of Durban this month.

It didn’t take long for two things to come across my radar that made me change my mind and realize how fast word—and in these cases trepidation may spread.

First it was news that American forward Jozy Altidore sprained his right ankle in practice earlier this week. The 20-year old is listed as day-to-day with the injury and few people expect him to miss his team’s opener against England.

First it was news that American forward Jozy Altidore sprained his right ankle in practice earlier this week. The 20-year old is listed as day-to-day with the injury and few people expect him to miss his team’s opener against England.

The other news, which I found more depressing, despite being an American, was the arm injury to Cote d Ivoire captain Didier Drogba. There are conflicting reports about his condition. The Ivorian football federation has not ruled out the possibility the forward, and Vanity Fair cover model, will play in the tournament while other outlets are reporting he is done for the World Cup.

(Then again, how can one trust either source when it was originally reported the Ivoirians opener is June 13 instead of June 15?)

Drogba is the heart and soul of a team that some say have the talent to make the semifinals—or beyond. What was more heartbreaking to me was he was suspended due to yellow card accumulation for the Elephants only victory in the 2006 World Cup.

There are other teams whose captains will miss the tournament, but when one thinks of soccer in England or Germany Rio Ferdinand and Michael Ballack are not instantly the first men to come to mind. The two are very good players and may be in the conversation, but they do not mean as much to their team and their country as Drogba.

British media have castigated the 32-year old forward as a brooding brute on occasion, but there is little denying that Drogba is a predator in front of goal. He’s the type of person who can not only score goals, but win games—attributes many managers preparing for the World Cup would envy.

Of course I have a highly selfish rooting interest in Drogba’s health. I have tickets to see the Ivoirians opener against Portugal—and this guy.

One week to go!

It’s hard to imagine that in a week I will be waiting for my plane to take off from New York City.

All the work and the preparation for my big trip to South Africa is seven days away. Shoot, I’ve spent that much time watching soccer games over the past four years.

My parents were justifiably concerned for my safety. Other family members wondered aloud whether I could afford it. My girlfriend wanted to ensure I had a place to sleep. But for me, the one big thing that left me fretting many nights was finalized Wednesday.

How am I going to get tickets to the matches?

Through a Facebook group and an obsession with the FIFA website for ticket availabilities I was able to find tickets to all three United States matches and what may be the most intriguing match of the first round Cote d Ivoire vs. Portugal.

From watching in heartache in 1994 as the US had a golden opportunity against Brazil in the Round of 16, to the embarrassment of 1998. There was the joy of the 2002 quarterfinal berth and the disgust for the loss to Ghana in 2006 I have followed American soccer for quite a while. Being able to see my first US matches in person — at the World Cup to boot — is going to be special.

Or as the person I bought my US-England ticket from told me. The World Cup is the one chance to act unabashedly pro-American and have no shame about it.

There are some minute details to hammer out, but the concerns of my family, friends and cheerful supporters have all be answered in one way or the other. Now all that is left is to enjoy the trip of a lifetime.