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July 9, 2006

Forza Italia!

As I write this blog at 1:30am in Rome, the windows of my apartment are wide open letting in a cool late-night breeze and the constant cheers and car-honks of soccer fans celebrating Italy’s victory over France in the 2006 World Cup.

I had planned on watching the game with some friends at one of the big screens set-up around the city for public observation. Well, that was the plan until my boyfriend shuffled up to me the day before and said, “I think you should work at the restaurant tomorrow.”

I cocked my head at him and replied, “Why do you think I should work on my day off?”

He then proceeded to explain in a very serious manner that I had been working at the exact same times that Italy played its other World Cup games and won. According to him, everything had to be just as it was when luck was bestowed upon the team during the last games. Any changes in behavior might lead to bad luck.

He said all this with a straight face, finishing his argument with, “Come on, no one will be at the restaurant all night and you’ll be getting paid to watch the game.” This seemed more reasonable, so I called up my boss and told him to expect me the following day.

The wait staff had brought in a small television and set it up in the back dining room. We prepared the restaurant as usual, but the moment the clock struck 8pm both wait staff and kitchen staff were seated with their feet propped up and their eyes glued to the set. Two parties did come in to eat during the game (tourists, of course – no Italian would be anywhere else but in front of the TV) and I was sent to wait on them as the designated foreigner who had less right than the Italian waiters to watch every second of the game. I didn’t have to see it to know the score. After the first seven minutes I heard the whistles of disappointment from the crowd in the nearby piazza when France scored a goal. I didn’t give up hope because as I was taking the dessert order the sound of cheering and singing floated through the streets and I knew that Italy had scored one back.

The third party of hungry customers ended up huddling with us in the back to cheer on Italy. It was then when Italy took its forth penalty kick and won the World Cup. The staff went wild. The streets went wild. I grabbed my camera and headed for the piazza to catch the action:

Everyone was singing, jumping up and down and waving flags in the air. The bass line from the White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” (first adopted by a.s. Roma fans but has now gained popularity among soccer fans nationwide) was blaring from speakers in the pubs. Every street became the site of a parade of cars and with passengers hanging out of the windows and slapping high fives with passing pedestrian strangers. Flares and fireworks were set off and motorbike passengers wore Italian flags as capes, blowing in the wind. From that moment, the party started…and I can still hear it going on.

Ecstatic fans jump fully-clothed into Roman fountains immediately after the victory.

This Italian was showing off her spirit with her hat, red shirt and flag.

Statues all around the city were adorned with Italian flags.

Police had to hold back the crowds from storming the French Embassy in Piazza Farnese. The crowds remained, and sang songs of their victory.

Posted by Kelsea  at 7:02 PM | Permalink

Comments

Posted by: Daniel at July 13, 2006 8:05 PM