When I applied for my first job in 'the media' - way back when in 2001 - I had to write 200 words on the team I support. It was an application for an online editor position at itv.com/football.
At the time Everton had been in the doldrums for years and I wrote about how my first ever game was a drab 0-0 draw between QPR and Everton, and the fact that that initial game was the perfect introduction to how life supporting Everton (in the '90s) would be.
So, my first ever game was 0-0 and these goalless affairs have continued to crop up at an annoyingly high frequency during the years.
Therefore, when Alianza Lima and CobreSur drew a blank in my latest game, on Saturday, it shouldn't have been a huge surprise. But seeing as it was hot on the heels of my previous game (Liga de Loja 0-0 Barcelona Guayguil), another 90 minutes without a goal was beginning to test my patience.
I didn't know what to expect of Peruvian football. In Colombia the fans were nuts and the standard of football was crap; in Ecuador the fans were nuts and the standard of football was good. In Peru, the fans were nuts and the standard of football was embarrassing bad.
Irish Kevin and I were warned of the dangers of heading to the La Victoria district of Lima by the friendly receptionist at our hostel. Drawing us a map, he said 'walk on this street, not this one. Come out of the ground this way, not that way. Don't get your tickets out in the street, don´t talk to anyone'.
I thought we were going to the football, not downtown Kabul.
With that nerve-jangling farewell ringing in our ears, we jumped in a cab to the ground. When we got there, it was the normal inner city pre-game scene: people selling shirts and flags, ticket touts on every corner, scary looking youths with more tattoos than you could count.
We quickly located our stand and went inside the perimeter ticket check. We spoke to a woman selling shirts (one of which Kevin bought) and she showed us a t-shirt that featured a picture of a former captain, Sandro, who died at the age of 23 in a car accident. He was depicted in an Alianza shirt with angel wings.
There were no searches going in, and I got the obligatory 'in the ground' shot:
The match itself was fairly eventful. A disallowed goal for the away team - disallowed after the female lineswoman seemingly overuled the referee - almost led to fisticuffs down on the team's benches:
Then real fisticuffs took place, but this time in the stands. To our right was the core section of Alianza's hardcore support. Every now and then it would suddenly kick off between rival groups within the packed end.
We guessed that each area of the terrace was 'owned' by different fan groups, probably affiliated to particular barrios in the city, and the fighting was over territory.
It never escalated into anything too serious though, and the riot cops were on hand to break things up. Here's a (not very good) pic of one such moment:
Other than that, Alianza finished the game with nine men after two players on different occasions decided to thump an opposition player in the face. There were also no away fans at all. I'm not sure if that's the norm in these parts, or whether it was because of Alianza's notorious reputation (of their supporters and of the stadium's location), but it was a bit of a shame not to see and hear them.
After munching on a couple of chorizo rolls (I love football food out here) we left the ground at the final whistle and got a cab back to the hostel. A good evening, but shame about the goals - or lack of.
When we got back, we bumped into a guy called Brad who I had done the Lost City trek with in Colombia about a month ago:
Such is the norm on the gringo trail through South America. I bumped into an Aussie couple in Mancora who I had met in Medellin, and also in Mancora I shared a room with Andy - who I had first met in Cartagena. It's not a small world, but sometimes it feels that way.
To celebrate Brad's arrival, and with it being my last night in Lima, we hit the clubs and had a good night out on the dancefloors of this sprawling city. It meant I missed the Supermoon because I was dancing to Black Eyed Peas with drunken Peruvians, but I hear there will be another one in five years. I can wait.
Here's a snap of us at the end of the night:
The following day I monged out for a few hours before catching my bus to Ica. It was another Cruz Del Sur (the Daddy of Peruvian buses), but this time I was in the slightly cheaper upstairs seats.
It was barely a third full, and I was able to spread out at the front and enjoy the views as we roared down the Panamerican highway:
I shall attempt another post in the next day or two about my time in Huacachina, but the internet speeds out here are tortoise-like.
For now, here are some more pics from Lima:
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| Wall mural at Sargent Pimientes in Lima |
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| Sunset on the way to Ica |