“It seems to have been Brazil’s left-back Marcelo who came up with the idea. When the national anthem was played before a match, he told his teammates, they should keep singing after the music stopped. It would be a display of patriotism for the fans. It has become a ritual. At Brazil’s matches here, crowd and players belt out the words together a cappella. For a minute, the nation is made flesh.” FT – Simon Kuper

“The metropolis of Rio de Janeiro, never lacking for spectacle and chaos, is presently welcoming the thousands of visitors squeezing into the city to be a part of the 2014 World Cup. Two years from now, its 6.3 million residents will have to share their city with even bigger throngs when the Olympics come to town. Already, they are feeling the strain of the put-upon host. As new facilities, retail, and accommodations pop up with each passing week, the cost of living rises along with the pace of construction. But rapid development isn’t Rio’s only stressor: To make the city presentable for international spectators, the military and police have been deployed in a program of slum clearance. In the favelas, heavily armed tactical units have engaged in pitched battles with squatters and local gangs as recently as last month.” New Republic

“By the time you read this, it’s possible that every single person on the planet will know who Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior is. The image above is of Neymar from five days ago. … You could come to any number of conclusions from Neymar’s remarkable transformation. For instance, you could conclude that race doesn’t exist in Brazil, which is the favourite line of a specific tribe of Brazilians – impeccable liberals all, who just happen to be upper-class, white and at the top of the heap. Or you could conclude that everyone in Brazil is indeed mixed – which is, incidentally, the second-favourite line of the selfsame tribe. Or you could wonder what happened to this boy.” Africasa Country

“As midnight approaches on Rua do Salsa, crowds gather outside an open-air mall, the walls out front painted white and splattered with posters. The place is called Placa Jardin. It’s Friday night. Placa Jardin looks like any of the other numerous bars and clubs and restaurants in this reveler’s paradise on a cobblestone street near the beach. The lights outside alternate blue and green. Strobe lights inside flash red. Music played at maximum volume reverberates down the block. Dozens of women stand out front, clad in so many miniskirts and tube tops, lips dressed in the brightest red lipstick, feet stuffed in the tallest high heels. They spread down the street, in front of bars, clubs and cars. Some stand next to family members. Others cluster in packs of three or four. These women are prostitutes, and this is the side of the World Cup no one talks about.” SI

“It appears to be true, what everyone keeps saying. Last year’s massive civic unrest protesting the Brazilian government’s prodigious World Cup spending — which erupted during the Confederations Cup, and saw a million people throughout the country take to the streets — has left Rio de Janeiro working through a bit of a hangover. The pre-Cup festivities were muted: Any of these beautifully scruffy Rio streets might feature a rippling mini-flag canopy, but for every bit of street art depicting David Luiz as an ethereal sun god, there was another with hasty graffiti reading, ‘FIFA GO HOME.’ Still: No one told the seventysomething dude bombing down Copacabana beach, stunting out his limousine sunroof with a bottle of champagne, slicked-back Calipari hair, and a technicolor dreamcoat while screaming, ‘CHILE! CHILE! CHILE!’” Grantland