Blow that horn: inside Soccer City on Monday afternoon, after the Netherlands beat Denmark, 2-0. Photo by Austin Danforth.

Austin Danforth, reporter with The Alexandria Times, is in South Africa for the World Cup. This is Danforth’s second travel dispatch for DCist from his trip; read his first here.

During the World Cup, the soccer gets underway at around 1:30 p.m. local time. It’s an all-day affair, running until about 11. Once it’s over though, we’re left with little time to plan for what we want to do the next day: when to get up, where to eat, what to see, what games to watch. But so far, when we ultimately do wake up in our basecamp apartment — the optometrist’s office already humming with the day’s work to come — and get caffeinated and ready to go, the tournament ends up waylaying all of our best non-soccer ideas.

Of course, none of us are complaining. After all, there are still more than two weeks left on the trip.

Before I get too far, though, I have to address the issue of the vuvuzela. I’ve bought in. I love it. Mine has a South African flag print covering it and a great little strap so you can sling it over your shoulder. In less than a day I’ve gotten pretty damn good, too.

Anyone badmouthing it needs to get over himself or herself. From what I’ve gathered, the discussion has included plenty of whining in the U.S. and elsewhere, and (thankfully) a short-lived consideration to ban the plastic horn from stadia here in South Africa. A much more detailed argument could squash the concerns entirely. At its most basic though, the vuvuzela adds to the atmosphere like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It’s cathartic. It’s a cheer that doesn’t bust your vocal chords. When tens of thousands of fans are using them, it’s just white noise. When you hear a rogue horn-blower in a quiet, cozy suburb while you’re drinking coffee over breakfast, it’s refreshing. You know you’re in South Africa at the World Cup.