It started at the airport. Normally the humidity is the first thing you notice when you arrive in Brazil; that or the heat or the fact everyone is wearing running shoes with jeans. But this time there was something more prominent.
Every advert – and there were plenty of adverts – were related to football. This was a certain corporate definition of World Cup fever to be sure, but it served as a reasonable barometer for what was to come.
The woman who took our parking ticket looked bored. Another muggy night, another dull shift. But she burst into a smile when I commented on her nails, which boasted Brazilian flags in green, yellow and blue varnish. She could not wait for the World Cup to start.
Read the rest of this piece on the Mirror website.
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