Checking in from Bogota, Colombia, site of the FIFA under-20 final

Oh, have I mentioned that I am in Colombia?

I arrived last night, got some shut-eye then hopped up for food and EPL on the tele down at the breakfast bar. Delicious. All of it – the breakfast, the soccer, the whole shebang.

The perks of making (most) of my humble living from writing about soccer is that I can travel to some amazing places – cities and countries that, if I’m being honest, might be a little further down my list if it weren’t for opportunities attached to our wonderful game. South America? Yeah, I’d love to get to Chile. Since the woman I live with grew up in Brazil, and since the all directional markers in global football now point toward Brazil 2014, I feel certain a trip to the land of samba soccer is certainly in the cards.

Argentina is probably third on the list. Then would come some of the other lovely South American lands, such as Colombia. (To all my friends who inquired and or fretted about the trip, I can insure you that Colombia seems infinitely safer these days than Mexico; our Southern neighbors are, sadly, about where Colombia was 15-20 years ago in terms of battling to regain greater control.)

So, today I’m in Bogota, Colombia’s elevated capital. (At about 8,000 feet, it’s South America’s third-highest capital. I let you know how my first wheezing run works out.) The FIFA under-20 final is here today; Brazil meets Portugal in an all-Portuguese speaking final. That makes my girlfriend, fluent because she grew up in Brazil, quite happy. Mexico plays France in the first of tonight’s “doubleheader.”

So, in the third-place match, I’ll see plenty of the youngsters who will be bumping and grinding in U.S.-Mexico skirmishes over the next few years.

I’ve followed along with the tourney over the past month, and the soccer has been lively, as generally happens with the younger, fearless fellows. The weather in Bogota is crisp and potentially wet. American referee Mark Geiger is in the middle for tonight’s final; let’s hope he does us proud.

Read on for a few things I’ve already learned en route to Bogota.

• I had an eight-hour layover in Miami along the way. Since I used points for the trip, that was unavoidable. You know about airlines and their points, and the hoops they are nice enough to align for you. Bring your jumping shoes.
• Suggested slogan for regional Miami: “Welcome to South Florida, the most overrated place on Earth!”
• When bemoaning an eight-hour layover in Miami, the only one who really understands you is Mr. Mojito. Only he understands.
• Seriously, the best course of action: take a cab outside the airport, find a Cuban place in a strip center (i.e., not a fancy pants place at South Beach where you’ll pay $16 for beans and rice) and eat where the local families eat. I found one near a Marriott Hotel not too far from the airport. Afterwards, I made friends with the hotel bartender, enjoyed a few, then hopped the hotel shuttle back to Miami International.
• A little game I like to play to pass the time is "Spot the Hooker." Only, if you're in a Miami hotel bar, it's not so easy. So many of the women there dress like "workers."
• I’ve already discovered my first Colombia culinary treat, arepas con queso. Essentially, their version of biscuits with cheese. Mmmmm.
• The egg soup was looking a bit tired. I think. Hard to say when you’ve never seen it before. I’ll work up some more conjones and give it a shot tomorrow.
• Even though I was gutted to learn that fabled coffee king Juan Valdez never actually existed (he’s just a marketing tool, like the Michelin Man or the Burger King), the coffee here rocks. They have understandably high standards for their coffee, which Colombians typically serve with warm milk. It’s just awesome.
• I have to go sort out my accreditation now, and then make my way over to Estadio Nemesio Camacho. The press tribune is out in the open, so I have to be prepared for … well, anything I suppose. That’s the problem with parachuting into an event at the last moment; you don’t really have your feet set. But no worries, I’m in Colombia to watch soccer. How sweet is that?