We had an invite this morning to see the England game in the company of some other English folk, so we did exactly that, taking the mickey out of the less than inspiring performance and gasping at Peter Crouch's thinness (and the refereeing) in an apartment on the 22nd floor of a massive block with great views of the city.

For the Argentina game we decided to revisit Pizza Napoles, our local pizzeria. There were about 20 people in there, and the biggest, most visible difference was what they drank. We had a beer with our pizza, and then during the course of the match, two coffees each. Most of the other patrons had a coffee or maybe two, or a coke, or maybe half a bottle of wine between two.

No one hurries you, there is no unspoken contractual agreement like in England where when you go to a pub you have to drink as fast as you can... They were pretty excited to win, and as we left the cars in the street were beeping their horns, and people were waving to each other, smiling and saying 'Un partido bueno' (a good game). I have to report Liz letting out a little 'yes' when Cote de Marfil (ivory) scored, as she said, they deserved it, but when England are playing Argentina in the final (if that's possible) we'll have to be a little more circumspect.
  ¶ 9:47 PM