Televisions and some freelance journalists surrounded, as if peering into a zoo cage, the terraces of the Plaza Mayor where Chelsea fans drank.
It was one in the afternoon.
They peacefully dumped traditional pints, disappointing the media.
None of the foreigners seemed to want to become a
hooligan
.
With the cameras focused on them, it was about doing something and someone pleased the technician by launching chants or shouts without continuity, ideal for the break of the news.
The Police marked out the square, isolating the urban territory that at that time housed the exuberant aesthetic and biological diversity of the tourist.
Robbie and Alex drank side by side in Los Arcos.
They didn't miss the sun.
"The day is more English than Spanish. It seems like a sign
," Alex commented.
Both were covered in a cap, dressed in the blue
pantone
of the London team and were optimistic, as is anyone who travels that many kilometers and has cash to spend in a different country.
"I think we're going to win 4-1."
Some neighborhoods in Madrid are unbalanced and while the neighbors occupy the offices, the tourists live the happy parallel existence of the traveller.
Like Ethan's family, a teenager who was walking with his parents and his sister.
They made time before the game.
They were loaded with bags.
"Madrid is special," he used to say.
"It's normal that we come to watch games as a family."
They had arrived on Sunday and will leave on Wednesday.
Groups of
free tours
coexisted in the Plaza Mayor , Indians dressed as animated characters, Englishmen in shorts.
There were people caught between two selfies.
Oliver, a Berliner, observed the great bazaar of journeys.
"I have no idea about football."
He rested on the road to Santiago.
"I walked from Seville to Astorga and from there to Santiago. 1,000 kilometers for 40 days
. Tonight I return to Berlin. As you will understand, right now football doesn't matter to me."
On his head he has a tan like a mesh from the sun, a reddish cut on his neck marks the color acquired by the cloudy ones.
“
Is all this police for the game? Oh, the hooligans have come?” he asks.
In the arcades, a man from Madrid was selling scarves for 10 euros.
He wasn't about to give away any answers but he also let slip that he was reselling tickets.
"If you want explanations, go to Lavapiés or Puente de Vallecas. They will give them to you there.
I sell everything. I even have marijuana here," he said before disappearing.
He smelled like fried calamari.
Gabriel, 23, was leading a Mexican expedition.
"I will watch the Madrid match and the Atlético match with my brother. We bought the tickets through online resale".
They were happy after being photographed with fans carrying a life-size photocopy of Tuchel, the Chelsea manager.
Marisol, with her brother-in-law and her sister who had arrived from Huesca, had also posed with another group of London soccer fans.
They allowed themselves to be caught up as they left the square.
"I wished them luck," added Marisol to his enthusiasm.
"I'm from Madrid but we don't have to be violent, we have to be hospitable.
They were delighted to take a picture with us. We are confused about what we expect from them. They were calm," he said.
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