From the Front Line: First Live World Cup Game Ever

Today is the big day: I get to watch my first ever World Cup game live! A decision is made in the office to finish early and head over to the pub for Germany-Serbia on account of a German colleague. We find ourselves at the Fireman's Arm, a quintessential sports pub packed with English and Germans. It finally feels like a World Cup atmosphere with the game on a big screen and fans sporting their national teams' colors. There's a lot of screaming, laughing, shouting at the ref and asking for more beer as Germany crash and burn.

We head on to Long Street, Cape Town's answer to Sanlitun, to catch the US game and grab something to eat. The cacophony of languages and jerseys adds to the already colorful landscape. A passing bus hands out vuvuzelas and English flags to the eager crowds.

Long Street Cafe, our temporary headquarters, serves up a mean burger alongside the 10+ TV screens broadcasting the game to a decidedly North American audience going through a full range of emotions: early disappointment, midway hope and a finish smeared with pride and outrage.

It's time to start making our way to the stadium. The city has set up 2.4 km “fan walk” through the city leading to the stadium. The route starts downtown, taking us and a few thousand other would be spectators through some of Cape Town's nicer areas. The walk has all the required festive elements: bongo drums, costumes, dancers, fire jugglers and even opera singers… how is that for diversity?

Finally, we are there – Green Point Stadium. And what a beauty it is, shining from the outside like a bride on her honeymoon. We are slightly apprehensive at first when faced with the lines outside, but soon enough a security guard comes around and points to an alternative entrance around the corner. Hurry up, she says, you don’t want to miss the kickoff!

Having been through various security measures in Beijing during the Olympics, I am surprised at the relative ease with which we get through the various checkpoints. Ear-piercing Vuvuzela noises surround us, along with a cacophony of colors and chants from both supporters and outsiders.

Now if you think that the vuvuzela are annoying when you hear them on TV, try being subjected to several thousand of them within the confines of a stadium. It's maddening, and the only way to deal with it is to grab one of your own and join the fun.

As the game comes to an end, it’s time to make our way back to Long Street for a few drinks, some grub and hopefully the car we left parked there.

We're setting off early tomorrow for Route 62, allegedly the world's longest wine route!