And then came Cape Town. Beautiful, so much so that the fiasco that was Jo’burg has been more or less forgotten. It’s the middle of winter here, so it’s always threatening to rain. But when it does, it usually stops after 45 minutes or so, so there are rainbows all over the place.
I got in Monday morning and went to the apartment I’m sharing with three friends. We hit wine country in the afternoon. First up was Ernie Els’ vineyard. Nice views, nice wine, nice people.
We then went looking for a place with a TV so we could watch Japan play Cameroon. The place we found was nice enough—gorgeous grounds, okay wine and a dog who seemed to have the run of the place.
The ride back was interesting—a spectacular sunset gave way to a storm in which it hailed stones the size of Milk Duds sideways, but by the time we got ready to go to the Italy-Paraguay game, it was fairly clear (but freezing). Our seats were in last row, but we moved down for the second half (plenty of empty seats and the ushers aren’t exactly vigilant).
After the game (it finished 1–1, which meant I hit my 11-1 bet on that score; that’s another nice thing about Cape Town, the betting parlor on the corner), I typed up a terrible SI.com column on a Blackberry then started interviewing Paraguayan fans with some help from Evans, who speaks a bit of Spanish. (It’s for a forthcoming piece that ties in with The Hobbit.. What we discovered: Paraguayan fans are generally not experts in geography, and the president of the country is a former priest who, in the words of one fan, “has a lot of baby mamas.”