A World Cup Final to Remember in Argentina

The next morning was the day of the World Cup final. We left at midday once Will had finished work. We were heading back to the same bar that they had watched the semi-final in, and they said it would fill up quickly. By the time we got there at 1 pm, tables were already occupied and the bar staff were erecting the huge portable screen at the front. We ordered a drink and settled down. Kick-off was not for three hours, but we wanted a seat.

The beers were cheap and, despite the still-strong wind that blew up sand from the beach and threw it in our faces, the day was warm. As kick-off drew closer, the bar filled. The tables were long gone, and people started to stand around the back or sit on the floor at the front as the screen showed the pre-game interviews and footage. A local walked past with a huge papier-mâché trophy and plonked it near the screen to the excited cheers of the crowd.

I was a little conflicted about who I wanted to win. Part of me wanted it to be Argentina, just to see the atmosphere and the no-doubt crazy party that would follow. But after losing to them and seeing their dirty tactics on the pitch and inappropriate signs after the game, part of me wanted Spain to put them in their place.

In the end, I got both my wishes, after they set history as being the first team to play in a final without a single attempt at a shot on goal. Argentina’s poor performance during the match continued long after the Spanish victory. A fight broke out shortly after the final whistle blew, and they continued to do themselves no favours as they turned their backs on the celebrations while Spain lifted the trophy—very unsporting behaviour. I was secretly quite happy to see them lose; really, after all of that, it only seemed fair. Spain were clearly the superior team. It was a little sad to see the players conduct themselves that way, though; no doubt much of the world would now hold a very poor opinion of the country, which is not a true representation of how it actually is at all.

Having consumed a lot of beer at this point, we headed over to a restaurant behind the campers for some food. We had parked on the street very close by, which was also where we would be stopping for the night. Of course, none of us were in any state to drive, and things were only about to get worse.

As we ate our food, we spoke to some locals. We said it was a shame there was no party. Despite having just lost, they seemed in good spirits and assured us that there was indeed a party down the street. So, we finished up our food and went to see what was going on.

We walked down the mainly deserted street for a bit, seeing nothing. Then, at the roundabout, a police car blocked the entry to the road ahead. Everyone was walking this way. A little further on, the street began to fill up with people. We bought a bottle of Fernet and Coke (from a bus?!) to share between us. The place was packed. Some people had the backs of their cars open with enormous sound systems on display; others weaved in and out of the crowd selling drinks. From the atmosphere, you would have thought they had won! The street was full of music, singing, dancing, drinking, and the occasional mosh pit.

Then the heavens opened. Torrential rain fell, drenching the crowd in seconds. No one cared. The music blared on. The papier-mâché trophy appeared from somewhere and was tossed around above the heads of the crowd until the rain tore it into mushy pieces. We drank our Fernet and enjoyed the party. The rain seemed to add to the experience—it was something I definitely won’t forget.

Now, by this point, we were all definitely quite drunk. When the police began to break up the party, we headed back to the vans. The lads walked ahead while Stacey and I walked together. We were so engrossed in our conversation that we paid no attention to where they were or where we were going. After a while, I realised I had no idea where I was! Luckily, we knew we were parked next to the bar, and after asking a few people, we stumbled back in the right direction. The boys had reached the vans by this point, realised they had lost us, and gone back out looking. Stacey and I piled into Ruby, stripped out of our soaking wet clothes, and poured ourselves a questionable rum-based drink.

The boys returned and went into Solero. Stacey and I had a fabulous girls' night. We did each other's make-up and nails (with mixed success while drunk) and generally had a jolly good time. It’s been a very long time since I got to do anything like that, and it was really quite lovely. At around 5.30 am, we emerged to take some lovely photos of our hard work and check on the boys, who had also continued drinking—paired with rather a lot of weed. We didn’t get to bed much before sunrise that night, and no doubt we’d pay for it the next day, but it had been a night to remember.

It was nearly midday before anyone surfaced.

They had planned to cross the border, while we had planned to drive on. No one moved. We passed around the paracetamol and nursed our respective hangovers. Briefly leaving the vans to head to the supermarket was about all we managed. We ate tacos outside that evening, wandered over to where some school kids were practising some kind of drumming, and then called it an early night. Despite being on a street in the middle of the city, it was pleasantly quiet here and popular with lots of other campers as well.

Having had a day to recover, we said our goodbyes the following morning. They were heading back to Paraguay and then flying home for a bit, while we were now putting our foot down and heading towards Mendoza. Before we really started motoring, though, Lee wanted to finish his 'Road to Rio' video. We were both feeling ill as well, so we headed to a free municipal campground in the small village of Loreto. This area of Argentina seems to have a lot of these: often situated by the local river or lake, they have all the facilities and no charge. The weather was drizzling and wet too, so it was the perfect time to find somewhere with free electricity and stay while it blew over.

We arrived at the spot on a Tuesday. There were four quinchos, all with water, plug sockets, and a barbecue. We parked up in front of one, still not quite believing it was free.

There was also a very nice new shower and toilet block here, although it wasn’t always open. In the far corner of the area, a family lived who were responsible for keep/ing the place clean and tidy. They had six dogs and four cats, as we soon found out! It didn’t take long for the dogs to come around the van. One of them had clearly just had puppies and was nothing but a bag of bones. Of course, we did what we could to give them some extra food.

While there, we also celebrated our 14th anniversary together. We treated ourselves to a lovely piece of salmon and made a carrot cake to enjoy a fancy meal together.

After we had already been here for several days, a little boy came over. He was completely intrigued by us. He stood behind Lee watching him edit the video, an uninterrupted string of questions falling from his mouth.

“What’s that?” the little boy asked, pointing at the screen.

“It’s a video of Brazil,” Lee replied patiently, without taking his eyes off the timeline.

“What’s that?” the little boy asked, two seconds later.

Lee sighed. “It’s another video in Brazil. The whole video is about Brazil.”

“But what’s that?” This time the question was accompanied by a greasy little finger poking the screen.

“Brazil,” Lee replied firmly, looking imploringly at me.

I took my cue. “¡Vení acá!” I called to the little boy, guiding him around the side of Ruby to show him the world map and giving Lee a break from the onslaught.

Lee was either at the table editing or hunched in the toilet block with a blanket over his head (to try and stop the echo) while recording the voiceovers for the video. I can only imagine what the camper next to us thought when they walked in to use the toilets and found a man sitting hunched over a table under a tartan blanket, talking into a microphone!

Despite his best efforts, the video was still not quite done by the time we left five days later. We had waited out the weekend, which had been surprisingly quiet. We thought maybe this would be a local party spot, but barely a soul had turned up, to our delight. I had finally managed to get rid of my bug, too. The weather had brightened a little, and we decided that it was time we started to move.

Making the most of the free power, we headed to another similar spot in San Luis del Palmar: a huge open field on the banks of the river. The local wardens walked over once we had parked, asking if we could sign in. They said we were welcome to park at another spot closer to the services so we could use them all—for free, of course! It was really a lovely thing. Families strolled around the park; kids rode their bikes; and, of course, because it was Argentina, everyone barbecued. They enjoyed the sun and the fresh air, and the spot was clean and well-maintained. It’s such a shame that there is really nothing like this in the UK!