One of the things I knew I was going to miss moving here, was watching international soccer championships. Sure, they broadcast the matches here, too, but every match the national team plays in the World Cup or the European Cup is the Dutch equivalent to a nation-wide Superbowl party. Playing seven World Cup games is like a month of Superbowl where everybody in the country is rooting for the same team. Unfortunately, I was in America, where soccer is something you do when you’re a girl and younger than twelve.
Or, that’s what I thought. I was recommended a place to watch the matches in a bar, the Amsterdam Tavern; supposedly the best place to watch soccer. I can’t compare, but I was pleasantly surprised. Best of all, for every Holland game I came to watch, there were numerous Americans rooting for the Dutch. At first, the incognito orange jerseys threw me off a little (during the first game I kept approaching Dutch fans who did not understand my funny language, but were ‘just fans’, I gave up until the last game I watched, where I was called out for looking suspiciously Dutch by a woman I thought looked quite Dutch herself), but it was nice to by surrounded by fellow fans. It was less fun at the Argentina game, where the number of Argentinians outweighed the Dutch fans by a lot. Also, the Argentinians won, ending the fun run of watching soccer games in an American environment. But don’t worry, Amsterdam Tavern, you will see me again.