Hidden within this accumulation of goodness I struck gold and found a pair of gently used (kind of falling apart) soccer cleats (Futbol boots), which just happen to "fit" me. I located some long socks and shin guards among the undesirables as well. There I was, dressed to the nines with no date in sight.
Until I casually mentioned my former futbol career to one of the hostel managers and he insisted I play with the local women's league, whose season was conveniently starting in the next couple of weeks.
Okay, alright, sounds fun. I can play a casual game of soccer with a few locals. Maybe I should break in the shoes a bit and try to remember what kicking a futbol in cleats feels like. Dear God, is this really how big a regulation field is? I'll just jog it a few times with the ball. What happened to my lungs? Have they shrunk to make room for the abs I've been hoping to acquire? Or to accommodate all the boredom snacking I've been doing? I should really consider portion control. Wow, four times down the field and this is not looking good. I'll try to juggle for a bit. Oh yeah, I've never been able to juggle. Was I ever good at soccer?After a week or so of occasional attempts to reacclimatise to a soccer field I was feeling less than confident in my abilities. Kicking the ball with my left foot felt similar to what I imagine tying your shoes with no thumbs feels like.
And then I went to practice and remembered what it feels like to actually sweat. I thought, surely I can rely on my right foot, but my newly inexpandable (not a word) lungs are preventing me from getting to a moving futbol. I acquired several blisters and if I want to play any games have to pay. The upside to waking up in the night feeling like I was hit by a bus is that my roommate told me I look skinny today. So that's nice. Also,
This is what WWOOFers look like watching a futbol game:
L to R: Asako (Japan), Naoko (Japan), Martin (France), Mareen (Germany), and ME