Fútbol, cerveza, y wifi
10/10/2009 at 23:56 from (21.527881, -105.282218)
Our last full day in San Blas was designated as internet catch-up time. We had agreed to write to friends and family, research the next hop (our plans were, surprisingly, still quite murky), and watch some soccer, if possible. We struck out late, as the sun rose high over another stifling day in San Blas. After a small lunch at La Parrillada (apparently, that's the name of Beba's place), Marijana and I headed over to Cafe Wala Wala (the restaurant with free wifi that we had discovered earlier) and indulged in some internet time and sodas.
After a few anxious minutes of searching online and battling a slower connection than my pampered self is accustomed to, I found a feed for the Argentina game (they were facing elimination from the World Cup, despite having perhaps the strongest team ever) and Marijana and I huddled around the tiny window on my computer. The Mexico vs. El Salvador game was on at the same time, so our waiter (who seemed to be the only person ever there, and was a cool guy to boot) hauled a television out of the back room, turned it to the game, and invited four or five of his friends from off the street in to watch.
Soon, my attention was drawn by the drama of their game, and they were intrigued by our similar reactions. When our waiter came over to bring me another drink, he saw that we were also watching soccer and invited us over to watch with the rest of the folks. We happily obliged, ping-ponging between both games as they drew to a close. Mexico, to the delight of the whole restaurant, crushed El Salvador. Argentina, though, struggled against a plucky Peru (who had no chance to move onward, but looked like the team that would deny mighty Argentina a berth), and the game was tied going into the final minute. At the very last possible second, Martin Palermo broke free and hammered home a breathtaking (although most likely offsides) goal and Argentina lived to breathe another day.
We celebrated with the restaurant crew for a little bit, then headed home to surf and play in the waves. We both caught dozens of waves, with Marijana even picking up a shorter board and working on turns. I stuck with my long board and managed a turn or two of my own, albeit slow and awkward. When we were too tired and too chafed to continue, we showered up, changed back into real clothes, and headed back in for an evening on the town.
We again met the crew at the bar next to Wala Wala (the owners of which were originally from Seattle). This time, we were joined by John (actually, his name is Darren, but we called him John the whole time without knowing any better), a traveler from the US who was staying at a hotel in town while he practiced surfing along the Playa Borrega. We talked and laughed and drank long into the night, eventually swerving home alongside Max, who had walked into town and needed company on the long, dark, lonely return home.
