Yellow Fever.

The World Cup has commenced. We know it has because the Brazilian team played their first game last night and no World Cup is really under way before this. How do you describe this almost metaphysical effect?

All over the country a wild party exploded. In Recife, in torrential rain, boys and girls were dancing Forro under the bouncing umbrellas, in Belo Horizonte it was cachaça raining from the heavens, in São Paulo a pop concert kicked-off the long night after the game and in Salvador the African drums were calling the spirits. The whole nation rejoicing and celebrating in a Dionysian fit, a second Carnaval bringing everybody together, crossing every possible border in it's wake.

And in Rio? Well, how it could not have been special? The city is transformed, every corner shop, every house, every public space, virtually every single corner is in disguise. In Copacabana giant screens have been erected and thousands upon thousands of people, in yellow, green and blue flooded the beach. Drums and flags, whole Samba orchestras and dancers, toddlers (and old gran-dads) barely capable of walking and families, teenage couples and gringos and more, many many more. I'm sure that not everybody was there. Could they know of someplace even better?