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Mendoza River |
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Mendoza River is the heart of the Argentine wine country but today it’s running fast with melt-water run-off and is almost exactly the colour of milky coffee. As a wave rears up and crashes over the front of our bucking raft I get the impression that it really is coffee: the water is loaded with dust that leaves a layer of ‘coffee grounds’ in my mouth.
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Soccer in Buenos Aires |
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It seems to me that Boca Stadium is trembling. I’m up high in the press stands and down below on the terraces where ‘La 12,’ the fearsome hoodlum Boca fan-base, is leaping, I can see the rowdiest element of this crowd. 50,000 people are leaping in unison in some sort of barbarian tribal dance. Boca stadium is perhaps unique for the way it moves when the crowd jumps. Jump it does – but tremble never. The stadium doesn’t tremble say the Boca supporters: It BEATS! |
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In praise of Fut-volei |
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Foot-volley – or, as it’s known here, fut-volei – was born in Brazil as a reaction to a law that actually made soccer illegal in the early ‘60s. It has developed into an international sport that is played throughout the Americas (Uruguay are the current champions). |
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Brazilian sex motels: not just for the sexy |
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As one of the world`s most beautiful cities and favourite beach Mecca for most Brazilians, Rio de Janeiro can fill up fast on a high season weekend. The city is notoriously short of rooms (it is said that a further 20,000 will be needed for the World Cup in 2014). When the hostels in Ipanema and Copacabana have long since put up their ‘lotado’ (full) signs and searches farther back into Lapa and Santa Teresa are not turning up any availability either, there is one final fallback you can rely on. |
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What have the Brazilians ever done for soccer…? |
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Another midweek soccer match in England’s green and pleasant…A seasonal downpour has given way to that fine English drizzle and two players slide in for a crunching tackle at the edge of the penalty box. Studs are raised, hairy legs are caked with mud. Spectators groan through the gap between their tribal scarves and raincoat hoods, and blow on their chilled fingers as they send a prayer up to the watery sky. |
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