I think Sehwag making 300 qualifies. So we get to the ground just after 9 - a good effort by our standards - to find the biggest queue we have ever seen. We join the end - a token effort. "We need to find a tout," Lilly says. 30 seconds later a middle-aged chap wanders up (think a slightly younger and thinner Indian Barrie Hearne) and asks if we want tickets. How much? "50 rupees." - face value. Sounds crazy, but if it's a scam we're not down much. A kid in the queue behind us takes his fourth ticket. "Come with me to the gate," he says, "I'll get you through the queue."
We round the corner and he starts attaching a laminated badge to his shirt. "I'm a government official," he says. For a minute our hearts are in our mouths - is this a sting? Fortunately I can add heart to the list of weird dishes I didn't have to eat in India - he's just explaining how he can jump the queue.
And jump it we do - good news, as it's a big queue. Then the security check - I've got my bag with me. The guard actually checks it, which would never happen in England (and I've been to a decent amount of cricket this year). He takes out my sun cream and throws it on the ground. "That's just sun cream - I need that," is my brilliant response. Strangely it works and he gives it back to me. Then he spots my camera. He wants the battery. It's an expensive Panasonic battery, not an AA. I don't want to give it up. He passes me to his superior. No joy, and not likely I can even get it back later.
Our new friend steps in, badge in hand. It takes some doing but he eventually persuades the security guy to give him the battery. I love this guy. I'm still waiting for the catch, and now he has my battery.
And we're in! With a minute to spare. In the bleachers, on concrete steps, with a good bunch of rowdy fans. Great view square of the wicket. And our friend hands me my battery, puts in his earphones and settles down to the local equivalent of Test Match Special (hopefully the locals send in fancy rotis or something). What a guy. If you see him, buy him a beer from us.
After that it's a slight anticlimax. One small stand is full, ours is filling up quickly, and most of the ground is empty with thousands of people in various queues outside. Sehway looks in the mood but falls in the 290s. From the ovation he gets, the queues outside must have thought he'd made 300. Dravid could be on for a century after a Sehwag-esque straight 6, but he soon follows. Tendulkar is elegant as ever, but things slow up before lunch and he eats on 47. At least we got to applaud the 500 mark. If anyone was watching at 4am in the UK, did you spot the white faces in the crowd? That was us.
More wandering, sights and, inevitably, shopping. Lilly looked at lots of Indian clothes, with names that I struggle to remember. Apparently sari is the hardest word. She emerged with a shirt (cheap) and two pashminas (apparently a bargain at a price I dare not mention in public).
Decent dinner - finally track down a bhuna, my favourite - and we pass the famous Leopold's Cafe (also caught up in last year's attack) so pop in for a drink. If you're ever there, it has 3 rooms - a cafe downstairs, a noisy bar, and a very nice bar with decent background music. The first 2 were full so we were passed on to the third, which is by far the best. We even half-watched an hour of World Cup Draw build-up with Sepp Blatter and almost no indication that there are any white people in South Africa, but give up on the draw actually happening. We need to allow an hour to get to the airport and it recommends at least 4 hours for check-in and security! As it turns out the drive is a scrum but the airport is efficient so we're on track for Bangkok... Might have to spend most of the first day sleeping...
No comments:
Post a Comment