There was a six foot five Slovak with a mo-hawk and no teeth chasing us around and chanting “USA, USA.” It was me, my coworkers, and nine of our homeless soccer players wandering down a maze of cobblestone streets, dressed in sharp soccer uniforms looking professional with shin guards and socks pulled up. There was an enormous castle on a rock where the seat of destiny was housed, statues of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. Down below were a myriad spires, grey stones, and beyond that undulating mounds of green that carried on into the clouds on the horizon. We kept having to ask people to repeat themselves because everyone spoke a wee bit faster than we were used. We ended up in a narrow valley full of flowers and people lounging on blankets having picnics. The castle leaned over the cliff above us as we marched to the end of the valley where there was a stadium. Flashes of warmth and coolness fell upon us several times within a minute as a fast sky full of clouds blew magically overhead. In the stadium everyone sang national songs. We danced together with motley Norwegian fisherman, shale-blue eyed Irishmen, a team of bald Poles, jovial Argentines, introspective Chinamen, fit and dignified South Africans. (click on picture to see next)