The Universal Language of Futbol and Ice Cream

Parque Simon Bolivar is a huge central park in Bogota that includes playgrounds, amusement rides, a huge new indoor public swimming pool complex, concert arenas, lakes, bike paths, and lots of open green space for your preferred recreational activity. We saw break dancing, rugby, kite flying (August is a big kite flying time in Bogota; it’s the windiest month), ultimate Frisbee, a whole bunch of kids in bright track suits doing some crazy obstacle course, couples making out, and, of course, lots of soccer.

Within five minutes of sitting down in the shade to eat our picnic, we were sighted and stalked by a group of five ruddy-faced boys with 2 bikes, 1 dog and a lot of obvious curiosity about the gringo family in the park. They circled closer and closer to our spot, pretending to be extremely interested in a nest in the tree above us. Within five more minutes they had introduced themselves by proudly saying the word “soccer”, reported their ages (between 13 and 10) and swept Zach into their group for a game of futbol. The two bikes served as one goal and various hats, shoes and backpacks served as the other. Gustabo – clearly the leader of this pack – suited up, pulling two jerseys and an additional pair of shorts over his slim frame. I could see he and Zach trying to establish some kind of broken English, broken Spanish conversation while the other four boys grinned and interjected helpful – but, usually, not so helpful – additions to Gustabo’s communication.

Luckily, sports is one of the universal languages and the game was on - after I offered to hang onto their dog “Luna” who kept rushing the ball in play. Gustabo proved to have some dangerous footwork, and an incredibly winning smile as he was dancing the ball back and forth and around the other players. But, while the score grew in Gustabo’s team’s favor, Zach pursued him doggedly, and began to mount an effective defense. Pretty soon, shirts had been abandoned, and they could have all been kids playing soccer anywhere in the world.

How about that,” I thought, “Our 4th day in Colombia, and my son is playing soccer at 9000 ft with some kids he just met in a park in Bogota while the sun shines and the hills display themselves in the near distance. Pretty cool.” In fact, I felt so great that I bought the whole team popsicles when an old lady passed by pushing her helado cart (Judging from their fairly scruffy appearance and their obvious excitement about my purchase, I don’t think ice cream is a daily occurrence in their lives.) Gustabo prompted each of his gang to tell me please and thank you very sweetly Then, they all flung themselves down on the field with their cool reward and laughed at the strange sound of the word Zach taught them for what they were eating, “Popsicle.”

“This was the best day yet,” Zach sighed before going up to bed later that evening. “I like Colombia.”