Adventure of the day

I woke rather late and missed the breakfast here in the guest house. I decided to go into the city, to one of the official FIFA “Fan Fests”. I don’t know if these existed before, in the 2002 or 1998 Cups, or if the Germans invented them in 2006. The concept is simple: take a large public square, set up a stage with a jumbo-tronTV for fans to watch the matches, provide food and drink and…voila a “fest” or party. In Germany these were well attended and loads of fun. The one in Newton, a district of Johannesburg, was almost empty. So empty in fact I felt a bit ill at ease. I ate some chicken, drank a beer and watched the match (Ghana v. Serbia)

I’m not going to make any socio-political comments now about Johannesburg or South Africa, having been here just over 48 hours. I want to keep this as much about my football experience as possible. But as the sun was beginning to set I became increasingly aware that I was being checked out, not by attractive women, but by some shady characters. I decided it was time to leave and asked an event staff where I could find a taxi. He graciously offered to walk me to where I could find a taxi, explaining that I would have to take a “local” taxi to a rank where I would find another taxi to take me to Sandton where I’m staying. He flagged down a mini van full of people and told the driver where I needed to go. What the f*#%?! I climbed in.

I have to point out this is not about a rich white guy sitting in a van full of poor black people. It is about the huge reputation Johannesburg has for crime. That is what made me uneasy. I wanted to take a photo because I thought a) this is totally absurd; and b) this may be the only authentic Jo’burg experience I’ll have. I decided against it.

The minivan drove deeper into the city and dropped me off literally in the middle of the road. Someone pointed in the direction I needed to go. I was quietly nervous, but laughing to myself at the same time. How do I get myself into these situations? It was Sunday and still the street was buzzing with people and cars. I made my way into what looked something like a large, open bus terminal or parking structure. There were dozens of battered mini vans much like the one I just got out of. I was looking for a taxi, the sort of taxi we know in New York or London or Paris with distinct official markings and lighted signs. No. There was another minivan with a skinny young kid driving. He’d customized his gear shift with a colorful, lucite knob. I piled into this van with a dozen other people and we headed off into the dying sun. It felt oddly like a family vacation though no one spoke or smiled. Money, our fare, was passed from the back to the front and change was returned the same way. Eventually we passed another FIFA Fan Fest not far from my guest-house. I jumped out and wandered down the street looking for another taxi.