1. Das hier ist nicht bloss ein Ei. Das ist ein kanadisches Huehnerei der Klasse “Large”! Pah! Diese Huener wuerden sich schaemen, wenn sie saehen, was ihre oesterreichischen Artgenossinnen leisten. Ich moechte nicht wissen, wie hier die Klasse “Klein” aussieht. Ich vermute, man wuerde sie bei uns als Taubeneier verkaufen. Von wegen in Amerika ist alles groesser! (PS: Das Foto ist etwas gar unvorteilhaft in Bezug auf die Groesse des Eies - aber es ist wirklich vergleichsweise klein!)

2. Das hier sind nicht bloss zwei Bueroklammern (die ich heute vor dem Institut am Boden fand). Das koennte mein neues Haus sein - sofern ich bereit waere, dafuer schonungslos abzukupfern (was ich nicht bin) und dafuer kreuz und quer in Amerika herumzureisen (was ich auch nicht bin)! Aber jemand war bereit dazu! Hier ist der Bericht ueber Kyle MacDonald und das der Link zu seinem Blog.

3. Last, but not least at all: Der Preis fuer die erste Postkarte nach Edmonton geht an: Tatatataaaaaaa:

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Sie ist gestern angekommen (die Karte, nicht Leticia) ! Vielen lieben Dank!
(PS an alle: Die Silber- und die Bronzemedaille sind noch zu haben.. ;-)

Our kamikaze mission was quite successful, apart from the negative fact that Italy won and from the fairly positive fact that we did not suffer the consequences commonly meant by “kamikaze”.. Eric nearly achieved it though. While Eddie and I were dressed neutrally, Eric wore his French jersey. (That guy really seems to have a matching shirt for every great match!) We had just entered the café “Tra Amici” when we encountered a rocker pirate with a massive moustache, clad in an Italian flag. He glanced at Eric, immediately noticed that his shirt was the wrong blue and the wrong emblems and said with a strong Italian accent: “Eh, What are you doing here!?” Eric answered a couple of words when the pirate suddenly reached into his pocket and swiftly took out something smooth and silvery. At first sight I thought it was a knife, but it was only a lighter, with which he pretended – quite realistically – to attempt to burn Eric’s jersey. That was kind of eerie. Tra Amici? Well that was not exactly my definition of being among friends..

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But after that initial thrilling moment it was perfectly alright. Of course it was mostly Italy-fans but also 4 or 5 Dutch as well as a couple of other people who more or less just came here for the atmosphere. However, I was fairly disappointed by the Italians. It’s always said they are the so crazy and passionate about soccer and maybe they are - in Italy or elsewhere – but definitely not inside "Tra Amicia". Seriously, they were no match at all for the English. First of all, the volume in the café wasn’t immediately put on when the two teams entered the pitch – you couldn’t have had that in the Elephant & Castle without loud complaints including a sample of (in)famous English curses. Secondly they didn’t even turn on the sound up for the national anthem – can you believe that? Italy playing in the final and they give shit about the national anthem – that’s sacrilegious! However, nobody – apart from Eric and me – seemed to care. Oh I tell you, it gave me the goose bumps every single time they played “God save the Queen” and whole crowd in the Elephant and Castle stood up as one man and sung the anthem with all their heart. And I am dead sure – in such a situation – the anthem being played but no volume – one of those hardcore English fans would just have started to sing and the others would have joined. I think there are two reasons why this didn’t happen here. On the one hand it was a final – and as everywhere the hardcore fans are diluted with bandwagon fans (like Eric, Eddie and me) who want to enjoy but not create atmosphere. On the other hand I suspect it might be due to a different pattern of immigration. The English supporters were almost entirely first generation; you could here that. In contrast many of the Italians (they definitely deserve a medal for the female supporters...) where so young that they definitely must have been second (or third) generation, who may be proud of their roots but nevertheless are rather Canadians than original Italians. At least so I would guess. Anyway, it was the same during the match. Yes it was packed, yes it was some atmosphere but still rather tame. Cheering, singing, clapping? Only at key scenes but not spontaneously during the match just for fun - as it ought to be.

But of course the exaltation was ear-deafening during and after the penalties. We left quite quickly and very keen on food (By then Eric and I had already had 5 beers - 0,33 but still) so we walked just a few of blocks, from Little Italy to Chinatown, where we enjoyed nice Vietnamese food. Afterwards we were hanging around Churchill Square (in front of the city hall) where a street festival was taking place including musicians, comedians, fortune tellers and the like. But I wasn’t too impressed, too tired and not really in the mood. As it had been raining when the match ended – heaven crying with us – we did not play soccer. Instead we had a rest at our homes and afterwards the three of us and Eric’s girlfriend went out (two more beers, large ones this time, with fresh raspberries on top, interesting, but no flavour inside the beer though).