Rugby world cup in South Africa

I’ve been lying for weeks. I’ve been telling people here I am a rugby fan. But given the way rugby has creeped not just into every conversation but ever part of life, I think any other option would have been cultural suicide. You can’t tell a proud South African you don’t care either way, including the non-sporty lady from across the corridor when she comes into work dressed in green and yellow.

As the only English person in the hospital, however, has meant I have endured being the butt of all jokes. Its been endless, ever since England took a thrashing the first time round....and its still ongoing.

The build up to game here was mad. On Saturday afternoon I was on way to the beach for some surfing and ever few minutes a car or pick-up would zoom past, windows down, springbok flags out, hooting and cheering like mad. South Africans thought they had already won.

I spent the game its self in a pub just by campus. 50 or more South Africans, 15 or so elective students, who by this stage been caught up in the excitement and gone back on promises to support England, and me. It was lonely. And possibly dangerous - I kept my accent down. I was still though contented that I didn’t really care about rugby, however on kick off I suddenly started to really care! What’s that about!

I spent part of the game chatting to one of the good looking (self proclaimed too) Norwegian students. Having never seen the game before she was shocked at the violence, “do you have kill someone to get a red card?” but also confused, “why don’t they punch each other?”.

Hope its wasn’t too depressing in England after the game. Needless the celebration afterwards here was crazy, people running in the street and springboks shots flying everywhere (green Aftershock stuff with Amarula).

Sunday I escaped for a run. I went from Cape Town along the costal road on the west side of the cape peninsula to Hout Bay. I was meant to be running for one hours and turning round, but on getting over the pass before Hout Bay I saw the beech in the distance and felt I I had get to it. It was beautiful. However on getting back I recalculated in the extra distance I had run and it appeared I had unintentionally ran a marathon. Puts me in good stead for two weekends time I hope!

The running, though, didn’t allow me to escape the rugby. I tried to buy a drink on the run back only to be told I could have it for free as a commiseration prize. After the run I went to buy a burger (I know, but I was hungry). Passion for rugby in South Africa is followed by an almost equal passion for meat, but I never suspected when trying to buy the burger I would be confronted with the choice of a green role for my burger, it glowed fresh from the its radioactive dip.

So its been a hectic time dodging national pride and “What do you do to an Englishman who has just lost...” jokes. Luckily, they haven’t noticed the England vs Russia football results....yet!