In any case, we got caught up on our sleep by snoozing until about 2:00pm. There wasn't much on our plate for the day except the game that night, which we decided we would watch down at the Frankfurt FanFest, which was basically a huge area that they had setup for fans to watch games. Every host city (where the games were being played) had a FanFest and Frankfurt's was one of the best because they had a ginormous screen setup in the middle of the Main River with bleacher seating on either side.
But we still had some shopping to do! After snacking on some breakfast (I guess it could be called brunch), we loaded up the wagon and headed back to downtown Frankfurt. By the time we got down there, it was probably 4:00, so we had a little bit of time to roam around Konstablerwache and head back to some of the stores where we wanted to re-shop. I got a couple of cool retro soccer polo shirts and was disappointed when I went back to the Adidas store to find that they were all of that awesome Deutschland soccer jacket that I had wanted to snap up the day before. As I noted yesterday, I was able to find the jacket in NYC, so that crisis was averted.
In Stefan's endless search for the Holy Grail of soccer trinket shops (one that actually carried some Italian gear), we eventually headed down to the infamous Roemer square of Frankfurt, stopping at shops along the way so that Stefan could continue his mission of raising the German economy's Gross Domestic Product by at least 1%. Frustrated, he spotted a church towering overhead and took a quick trip over to light a candle for his Grandmother who passed away two years ago and, undoubtedly, a candle for Italia to win the World Cup.
Kelly, Daniel, and I continued wandering aimlessly around the Roemer waiting for his i
mminent return, which never really came. After waltzing around for about an hour, we headed in the direction of the church in hopes of finding him, stopping at some shops along the way to pick up some hydration and, of course, a beer. As the credit-card depositer on our rental car, I really didn't have the opportunity to enjoy the bierschens at night since I was the desingnated driver (or designated payer for accidents, depending on how you look at it :). Since it was early and we had several hours left before the game, I picked up an ice-cold Warsteiner at a store to sip on. There's something special about being able to walk around outside with a beer in your hand without being hassled by cops or worrying about covering it up with a paper-bag. As we headed to the FanFest area in a last-ditch attempt to find Stefan, I made a comment to Daniel about this feeling of freedom. It was nice not to have to worry about someone saying "you can't bring that beer in here" and smiled smuggly to myself.Finally, we ran into Stefan somewhere near the entrance to the FanFest. Somehow we must
have just missed each other in the Roemer square, he was standing near the poor soul wearing the giant Ronaldinho mascot costume trying to sell some natural soccer balls and what not. Whatever, we were finally reunited (unfortunately ;o) and could head into the FanZone and get the party started. We headed through the gates and what do I hear? “I’m sorry, you can’t bring that beer in here”. My jaw almost hit the floor when I heard that. Are you serious? Figures, Anheiser-Busch has exclusive beer rights for anything related to the World Cup, including the FanFest areas. Daniel was naturally laughing at me for opening my stupid mouth a few minutes prior and jinxing my comfort zone….
And then we were in the FanFest. There was an hour and a half or so before the game still remaining, so we picked some seats in the bleachers so we could enjoy the game in style and then wandered around the park seeing what was going on. There was a grassy park area with kids and adults wearing France, Germany, or Portugal jerseys juggling a ball together (some of these kids are insanely good considering they’re like 8 years old). There were refreshment tents selling ridiculously expensive beers and sausages that we indulged in, there was a radio station
and stage having contest for the best-dressed fan (or, in one girl’s case, showing the most skin of a very fit body). There was music blasting through the speakers, there were Internet kiosks where you could take your picture and send it to an email address, and there were a couple thousand people to watch. At one point while we were all sitting in the 
bleachers, Daniel and Kelly spotted two comedians who were famous in Brazil. They were dressed in overalls, Mario/Luigi-style moustaches, and Portugal shirts and were walking around with their cameraman making fun of people, which is apparently what they are famous for in Brazil. It was kind of funny to see them dressed like that, essentially making fun of the Portuguese being farmers and backwoods-style people. Daniel and Kelly of course went down to get pictures with them…While we were sitting in our seats waiting for the game to start, the beers were flowing between Daniel and Stefan like water in a spring. They were determined to get drunk for the game so that Stefan could be at his obnoxious best and Daniel…just because! By the end of the game (which was a pretty boring, to be honest), they had downed five gigantic brewskies each and were ready to celebrate. Daniel, coming from Italian heritage, threw down the gauntlet and said that he would be going for Italy if Portugal lost, which they did. And so the heckling began – Stefan and Daniel stood on their benches after the game screaming at the top of their lungs “Italia…Italia…Italia,” etc. for about thirty minutes as the French and Italian fans streamed out of the FanFest to start celebrating the game. The mood was so festive, some of the Portuguese fans would sing along to them and the French would start singing their songs back at them, it was great. Once most of the fans had left, and Stefan and Daniel’s voices were hoarse, we headed out ourselves to find the parties.
Somehow we met some Portugal fans who were actually Brazilians (and one Filipino) and we
hung out with them for a while. They all lived in Frankfurt, working for the tourism service or in other civil positions and were just good, fun people to hang with. We joked and talked to them for about an hour, found shelter from the quick and heavy rain, exchanged contact information, and ended up going our separate ways (the poor people had to actually work the next day!).Rather than going to downtown Frankfurt, our friends advised us to head across the river into the Sachsenhausen district of Frankfurt. I wish we’d found out about this before because apparently this is where the party was going on all night in the bars, clubs, and restaurants! But, we didn’t even get that far because on the opposite side of the river, there was a discotheque-type area setup for people to dance and party at, which we did. We heard our trips theme songs and of course tons of the Spanish/Latin music that is all of the craze around the world right now. Daniel and Stefan continued their screaming and singing “Italia, Italia” into the faces of some French fans, who did the same back in French and sometimes sang along while flapping their France flags around and sporting huge smiles on their faces.
After munching on some late-night Mediterranean food, we ran into some Americans who were celebrating there as well. They were consultants from the states on assignment for
Accenture and were just living it up in Germany while the World Cup was on. Though they weren’t big soccer fans, they were stoked about the World Cup (and who wouldn’t be with an expense account ;o) and were having a grand old time. After chatting with them for a while, we exchanged contact information and then decided to call it an “early” evening and head back to the car before the rain came back.Once we finally got home and Stefan and Daniel started to sober up, we cooked up some pasta to eat with packets of sauce that we had bought on our in
itial grocery trip. We had eaten so little of the food that we bought because we were only really there in the mornings and late at night. We decided that the next day we had to use up as much food as possible, since we were leaving for another town and were probably not going to be coming back. We had more or less come to the conclusion that one way or another, we were going to end up six hours away in Berlin for the final, come hell or highwater. We had no idea how we’d get there, how we’d get home in time for our flights, where we would stay, when we would travel, etc., but we were bound and determined.We played Poker until the wee hours of the night.
Justinho
Videos:
The street "disco" after France vs. Portugal
The street "disco" stage after France vs. Portugal
France vs. Portugal game celebrations
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