Slice of life

Today, I happened to be walking to Spanish class during an extremely important soccer game.  The Ecuadorian national team was playing a qualifying match for the World Cup against one of their arch-rivals, Colombia. On top of this, for what I believe for the first time ever, Ecuador is in first place in the pre-World Cup competition.

I have never seen the city so dead. I got home from school in record time because the roads were empty, because every good citizen-soccer fan had found a spot indoors to watch or listen to the game.  The manic stream of narration of the announcers over the radio followed me through the city in a percussive, rhythmic accompaniment - filling up the school bus, and emanating from every storefront and security guard's booth.

Time stood still. The usual snaking lines of rush hour traffic had disappeared, and the busiest, most life-threatening intersections had transformed into empty, quiet lanes more suited for a stroll in the country.  The usual masses of pedestrians and shoppers and coming-home-from-workers and vendors and hawkers and beggars that I usually dart and weave around on the sidewalks were also nowhere to be found.  The streets were deserted. The city seemed empty. It looked the way New York looks the morning after a big snow storm - only the few and the bold venture out, along with those who have absolutely, positively no way of getting out of going to work.   And when I arrived at Spanish class, naturally, all 3 evening teachers were clustered around the laptop, breathlessly rooting for the team. I hovered with them for a while, becoming temporarily a part of Ecuador's collective soul, a witness and a participant in the 90-minute freezing of time and city life.

(Just don't ask about the results of the game.)