¡Olé, olé, olé, olé!

I can still hear it echoing up the hillside as I write this. It’s after one in the morning, we’re finally back at the house, and the celebration in Autol is showing no signs of slowing down. Firecrackers explode every few minutes, car horns blare in celebration, and from somewhere down in the village comes another chorus of “¡Olé, olé, olé, olé!” The entire town is absolutely electric.

We joined what felt like the whole village in the plaza to watch the World Cup Final on a giant outdoor screen. The younger crowd claimed the center of the square, carrying chairs out into neat rows facing the television. The older generation—and those of us who have apparently graduated into that category—settled around the perimeter at café tables, sharing food, drinks, conversation, and the perfect warm summer evening while keeping one eye on the match.

Spain was magnificent.

Still, I couldn’t shake that familiar anxiety that comes with soccer. They controlled possession, created chance after chance, and looked like the better team for most of the match. But soccer has a cruel way of punishing dominance. One counterattack. One defensive mistake. One lucky bounce. After watching Spain dictate the pace for so long, I kept waiting for Argentina to steal a goal out of nowhere and turn the entire game upside down.

Thankfully, that moment never came.

Spain stayed disciplined, kept Argentina at bay, and when the final overtime whistle blew, the plaza erupted. Complete strangers were hugging, flags appeared from every direction, people were dancing in the streets, and the cheers seemed to roll through the valley. It was one of those unforgettable moments where you realize you’re witnessing something much bigger than a sporting event. We weren’t just watching Spain win a championship—we were watching an entire country celebrate together.

The kids were completely captivated from start to finish. Then halftime brought an unexpected surprise. The mayor invited every child under the age of ten onto the stage for a raffle. Naturally, #1BigSister somehow managed to draw the winning ticket. She walked away carrying an enormous plastic cone overflowing with chips, candy, and every imaginable snack. Some people simply have that kind of luck. If there’s a prize to be won—even when the odds are entirely random—it somehow finds its way into her hands.

Now we’re trying to convince three very excited children that it’s bedtime, which feels like an impossible task when the whole country is celebrating outside their windows. Sleep can wait, at least in their minds.

Tonight, Autol isn’t just a small village in La Rioja. It’s the center of a nationwide celebration, and we’re incredibly grateful that, for one unforgettable evening, we got to be part of it.

~Steph