Windhorse Sailing

It has been almost three months since I last logged in. I will spare you the excuses and tell you that for the next week or so I plan to describe all I can about the adventures that have brought me home. I am writing from the comfort and safety of my apartment in New York. Shangri-La is safe as well, in the hands of my good friend Gavin McClurg who is sailing her north from Santos, Brazil to St. Barts in the Caribbean.

I’ll start the telling of this final leg with the story of a visit from my sister Gabrielle; we call her Gigi, and my cousin Kelly. While I was home the month of September for my brother’s bachelor party and wedding, we made plans for them to join me for the first leg of the journey North. It’s an easy 230-mile sail across the mouth of the Rio De La Plata from Mar Del Plata, Argentina to Punta Del Este, Uruguay. They had a week and that sail, I figured, would only take 2-3 days so there was much we could do with the extra time.

I arrived at the boat four days before Gigi and Kelly. I readied Shangri-La for the journey, replacing the broken throttle, filling the tanks, etc., and then I caught a bus to Buenos Aires to meet my guests at the Puerto Madero Hilton on Saturday morning. (By the way, I would recommend that hotel to anyone.) I knew that after their flight they would be exhausted so I planned little for Saturday. I thought food and drink would be enough and I knew there was a rooftop pool that these weary travelers would like to enjoy. Well summer was coming to Argentina, but despite my promises it wasn’t quite there. The cold and the fact that the pool was empty for maintenance left us only food and drink to enjoy that day – good enough.

Kelly and Gigi at the start of our great adventure.

Regardless of weather conditions we enjoyed some Argentine wine and food under heat lamps at an outdoor cafe in the Recoletta section of town. We relaxed and looked forward to Sunday’s activities. I got tickets to a soccer game and planned a steak dinner afterward. Gigi and Kelly enjoyed their wine sitting in the sun while I sat across the table in the shade of a pigeon filled fig tree. And as if I didn’t already know how lucky I was, bird droppings bombarded me. I was hit three times before the girls acquiesced to moving inside. It was uncanny how, out of 15 or 20 people; no one else on that patio got hit but me. I had to laugh. It was a good first day and an early bedtime left us all ready for the big day ahead.

Just after the pigeon invasion.

I bought tickets for the game through the Hilton concierge who arranges your attendance with a guided group. Actually it is the only way for a foreigner to get tickets. It definitely is not recommended to go without a guide. The game we were going to was between the two rival Buenos Aires teams, La Boca Juniors and the Club Atletico River Plate. When the game was played at the La Boca stadium earlier in the year it is regarded as one of the top 5 parties in the world. We saw this game at the much newer River stadium. I don’t want to imagine the La Boca Party. The River stadium shook the whole game. The crowd was insane for more than four hours. I’ve seen the outside of the Boca stadium - it makes the Roman Coliseum look modern.

Let me step back and first explain South American Futbol as best I can. The teams are clubs. They are owned by the fans made up of the surrounding communities. A member pays dues to the club and in return gets the right to buy season tickets, but more importantly, a well run club will provide medical care, day care, schooling and answer any number of community needs. Whatever is left over pays the players. The stadium is first and foremost a community center owned and operated by the fans. This setup has two major consequences. One, the player’s pay may suffer due to the needs of the community. The teams are then made up of players in their teens, rising stars hoping to be drafted in Europe where the big money is, or players in their late 20s who never made it to Europe or have returned to finish there career a hero at home. All the players in their prime have gone to Europe to make their fortune. What is left is a hot dog style of player trying to thrill the crowd and be discovered. The level of play is good, but perhaps not what it could be. And consequence two is that the fans have a vested interest in “their” team. The team is part of, and represents, their community, their family. The pride is evident in any South American stadium. It is crazy. Such is the pride we saw at River stadium.

The bus picked us up at the hotel at half past noon. The girls will deny it, but they were nervous. We were all excited. Our guide Carlos explained to the full busload of foreigners from all over, what to expect. We would be safe if not totally insulated from the crowd but we had to stick together and keep him in sight at all times. On the way to the stadium, about ten blocks away there were minor police barricades. Carlos pointed them out as the entrance for the Boca fans. They were allowed only 5,000 seats in a stadium for 70,000. They had their own entrance ten blocks away. Later in the stadium we would see their section in the upper deck at the long end of the stadium and an empty section of 5,000 seats on either side of them. Let the craziness begin.

The stadium…pre-game.

As we pulled up to the stadium every one was wearing River colors red and black. Most in the form of face paint. There was chanting, singing and dancing everywhere. Eating and drinking was definitely secondary. The energy was intense. These people were geared up at 1:30pm for a 4pm game. We got off the bus close to the stadium side and like an elementary school trip we made two lines behind our guide and followed him to our entrance. Just inside were a row of cars – they were the players’ cars, which tipped us off that we were in the player’s entrance. If these guys had big contracts you couldn’t tell by their cars. The nicest car I saw was a mini. From there we continued into a place called River Mania. It was the team store that sold jerseys and souvenirs, which of course I bought. I gotta be one with the people, but more importantly they sold beer. It was game day USA style for us. Carlos had us hang out here for about 45 minutes. We got to see the Boca players walk by dressed for the field. They were jacked up, game time still over an hour away. We were getting really excited. You just couldn’t help it. From where we were way down below you could here the crowd already cheering.

As we started toward our midfield seats the sound kept getting louder. It didn’t seem possible. Maybe I was wrong, maybe it was a 3pm start – no, I was right, it was 4pm. Just before we entered the stands we passed the high school, in the stadium. These people live their team from birth to death. It’s not just a Sunday game. At our seats we relaxed and took it all in. It was amazing. The 5,000 fans from Boca, were almost as loud as the rest of the stadium. They had huge drums and horns for everyone. I won’t bother describing the game. It was soccer. A good game that ended in a 1-1 overtime tie. I think it was overtime. It might have only been penalty minutes. There was no clock on the scoreboard. I think that might be a crowd control tactic. A good measure given what we were witnessing in the stands. I can only imagine the scene if they had allowed a sudden death shootout. The upper deck opposite the Boca section was Rivers hard-core fan base. They had drums as well and huge banners. At one point a banner started from the top and was handed out over the upper deck covering at least a 10,000-fan section. It shimmered with the people underneath jumping up and down. Later the whole upper deck opened red white and black umbrellas. All the while singing rallying songs. The one that is still stuck in my head is “Vamos, vamos, vamos, River Plate.” It was sung over and over and over. Don’t get the wrong impression the lower deck was just as fanatic. We got a work out from doing the wave. My Spanish isn’t great but the 9 year old behind had a mouth like a Jets fan and so did his mother, which is why he didn’t get scolded.

The crowd in the stadium - and the umbrellas.

The stadium during the game.

At half time and thereafter rolls of toilet paper came streaming out of the upper decks all around, At several points throughout the game we watching through a toilet paper curtain. (Have I conveyed crazy to you yet?) Towards the end of the game the empty sections aside the Boca fans filled with police and their dogs. There would clearly be no trouble tolerated. The Boca fans were escorted out first before anyone else could go. When they were all out it was clear they had smuggled in some paint and painted a small section of their stands Boca colors blue and yellow. Classic. The rest of the stadium filed out section by section. All the while still cheering loudly. We were exhausted and hungry. A South American “partido de futbol” requires stamina. It was 7:30 and we were just making our way home. Seven hours of that kind of intensity was tough just to witness. It was thankfully a short ride back to the hotel where we would decide what was more important, our exhaustion or our hunger.

I took matters into my own hands. I insisted we grab a bite at a restaurant a short walk from the hotel. I had one in mind and I knew if we sat down in the room it would be too easy not just order room service. I promised Gigi, who loves a good filet mignon, the best steak she has ever had and it was just a short walk away. It’s a place I had already been and knew was spectacular. I proclaimed, “Las Lilas in Puerto Madero is the best steak in the world.” Tired and hungry, this was the place to be. The service was impeccable. We had a tasting platter with our drinks that ignited our appetites. I built this Argentine steak up before Gigi and Kelly arrived and I built it up some more to get them there this night despite their jetlag. But I hadn’t built it up enough. My first bite almost brought tears to my eyes. I heard no complaints and maybe even earned myself a reprieve for the fine weather I couldn’t deliver. It was a great beginning to a list a of great experiences that were yet to come.

Dinner at Las Lilas.