Japan 1, Russia 0.

It's my last night in Bangkok, and I can't believe that I am sitting in this rammed restaurant, watching frikkin soccer. I'm Canadian for chrissakes, we hate soccer.

The atmosphere in here is crazy. It's packed to the brim with young, rowdy Japanese people. There's so many of them here that I half expect to open my wallet and find yen.

Not surprisingly, they all think that I am one of them. Inamoto just scored and the place went wild, I thought it couldn't get much louder than it already was, but they showed me. Each time they played the highlight, the crowd errupted in a fashion that even Mt. Fuji couldn't achieve (being inactive and all). People started russling my hair screaming, "Inamoto!" He has blonde hair too. Next thing I knew, people were slapping me on the back, yelling things in Japanese and some guy even pushed a fresh drink in front of me.

The game just finished, but the partying has just begun. Someone pulled out a bongo drum and started banging on it. For the next 30 minutes, all I heard was "Ip-poon! clap clap clap. Ip-poon! clap clap clap." Instant comraderie.