I'm done with this place, but Holland vs. Germany is the late afternoon kick off. Thanks to Isla de Boleta, I'm strapped for cash, so last nights meal was a can of tuna, and this mornings breakfast was my last Snickers.
I know what I have to do. I'm not sure that I really want to exert the effort, but I have to climb the final and highest peak. At the foot of the climb, the sky starts throwing more hail at me. I don't need this shit, and I'm ready to hit the bar. But, I know the bar doesn't open for another fourty-five minutes, and with that, I start my way up the steep mountain and through the hail. The route up is littered with boulders, and once ten minutes of hail has subsided, it's perfect for some more light climbing. The one and a half hours upto the telephone masts at the summit takes me three hundred metres above the peak fo two days ago. Those metres make for a much greater view point. This is how mountaineering should be. A short hike upto somewhere nice for some interesting technical climbing, and you're back in the pub in the afternoon.
In the bar, I'm not sure who not support. I like both teams. A few minutes after the start, I find myself supporting Holland. Possibly, it's because I need Robin Van Persie to be in a positive frame of mind when questions are asked about potential transfers.
Alas, Holland are outplayed by a stereotypically efficient and robust German performance and I'm muted for the remainder of the day.
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