We overheard two interesting tidbits at breakfast on our second day. One, that if the SA police pull you over and say that you must pay a fine that you should say that you have no money and wish to pay at the nearest station. Two, that Italy and New Zealand had a game this day only an hour away. Both bits paid dividends. We bought tickets to the game and a sublime experience ensued. We were (I driving in fact) pulled over by the police and, with a plea to the effect of the above, were let off with a "you're okay" and a thumbs up.
The game itself was middling at best. New Zealand played the game of their lives and Italy were, I'm afraid to say, boring. They should have done much better. But the live game in SA was worth every penny. The TV broadcasts show the Vuvuzelas as a noxious hum. In fact they bring a great vibrancy to the live games. The pulse of the game is high and unwaning. We sat only a few rows from the field, but it was the horns and the convivial energy of the crowd that made it memorable. We had a blast at the game. However, it wasn't until the shuttle back (to the park and ride) that the transcendent experience came. We were "trapped" at the back with a group of 20 South Africans. They sang. They blew Vuvuzelas. We danced. We laughed. It was wonderful. They were wonderful. I can without reservation say that they are a wonderful people. As we were getting off the bus one of them stopped me and said: "You are welcome in South Africa any time." It was an unnecessary, but touching, gesture, and indicative of the warm South African spirit.
As we waited for the traffic to clear, a group of 20 something South Africans welcomed us to dance with them. More of the same...
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