World Cup Final in Banda Aceh

So, where were you during the World Cup final?

Okay, we lost the bloody game but at least I'll have a story to tell when I'm asked this question :)

I was in a small cafe in the middle of Banda Aceh, with some friends and coworkers. The game started at 1 a.m., local time. Paddy (a Scotsman - great guy) picked me up by motorbike, which is the main transportation means here in Banda; and we landed in this weird looking and extremely noisy cafe where people were cheering for, well, both sides.
Actually they started of by cheering for France ("Trizigui" :)!! But by the extra time they were cheering for Italy (sellouts!!!!).

The Acehnese are a fun crowd, though, very noisy, very cheerful, clapping their hands whenever one of their idols was on screen. They went crazy when Italy sent it Del Piero at the 85th minute, and it was an uprising at the 109th minute with Zidane's red card...

Was there with my war paintings -- a French flag on each cheek, I can tell you the Acehnese had a good laugh... -- sitting next to some chap who was kicking the floor like a 6 years old, wowed every time Italy got the ball, yelled at the players in bad english (they might listen to him, who knows..) and was punching my shoulder frantically when the Italians scored... Now I really understand why they split the supporters in the stadium: it's not for organisation purposes, it's to avoid murderous incentives...



It feels so weird to cheer in a foreign language!! Instead of "Allez les Bleus" the cheers was "Prancis, Prancis" (France, in Indonesian)! Likewise, I can't imagine any other cheer in Cairo except the "tam tam tam tam, Masr!"

So well, here was I, cheering for Les Bleus who managed to let us down... La honte. Grave. Went home at 5 a.m. after 2 sleepless nights, forced myself to go wash the flags off my face (I feel sorry for women who have to remove their makeup every night before to bed..) and woke up at 11:30 the next day. Monday morning. A great way to start the week, especially after taking a 10 days leave which occured 4 weeks after I started working... :)

Oh well. It was a good game in any case, the Italians played well and (almost) clean, though they only dominated the first half - during the second half and the extra time, France clearly had the upper hand.
And we won against Brazil - again. And Zidane was chosen best player of the Cup. I'll take that as a (small) consolation prize!

Funny how we feel so national when it comes to football. Life seems simpler on the football field, and what matters is the colour of the shirt you're wearing, not the colour of your skin. In 1998, when we hit the Champs-Elysees, no one asked me where I was 'really' from - we were all French, and that was sufficient. Le Monde has a good article today about this - but in a more negative, albeit very interesting position, whereby what was spontaneous in 1998 seems almost forced this year, as if we were all looking for a good reason to feel French today - after a rough year where most popular gatherings in France were, well, demonstrations or riots.

And it's funny how I feel the least french when I'm in France...