The 2026 World Cup has begun and, like every four years, it has awakened something that seemed to be asleep. I’m not just talking about football. I’m talking about nostalgia.
Because you can get used to the weather, the language, sorting twenty different types of trash, and even having bread for dinner. But when the World Cup arrives, you inevitably start thinking about late-night matches, old friends, family, and those improvised gatherings where everyone suddenly becomes a professional football coach.
Where to Watch the World Cup in Germany
By 2026, many of us have learned to appreciate the broadcasting fee that everyone in Germany is required to pay. Yes, the very same one people complain about several times a year when the bill arrives.
Thanks to it, public broadcasters such as ARD and ZDF show the matches on free-to-air television and online. No suspicious streaming websites, no pop-up windows promising imaginary prizes, and no need to pray for some anonymous hero to rebroadcast the match on social media before their account gets shut down.
There is just one small detail.
Everything is in German.
Perhaps that is one more reason to learn the language. At the very least, enough to understand that Tor means goal and that when the commentator suddenly starts speaking twice as fast, something important is happening.
Although I must admit that, at times, I miss Latin American commentators. The kind who can turn a throw-in into a Greek tragedy and describe a shot hitting the post as if the fate of humanity depended on it.
I wouldn’t be surprised if, for a dramatic semifinal or the final itself, I ended up listening to a Spanish-language radio broadcast while watching the German television feed.
Some kinds of nostalgia survive even ten years in Germany.
But the World Cup is not only noticeable in front of the television.
The Cult of Beer
During the World Cup, another curious phenomenon takes place. German supermarkets seem to be preparing for an invasion.
Beer, potato chips, and diapers are often displayed suspiciously close to one another.
Many parents probably appreciate this noble gesture of modern retail planning. And for the optimists, not too far from the diapers, there is usually a shelf full of condoms as well.
I have to admit that seeing someone leave the supermarket with a pack of diapers, two crates of beer, and three bags of chips always makes me think that Germany is preparing for something important.
Because bringing home a six-pack to watch a match is one thing.
Stocking up as if the quarterfinals were going to last two weeks is something entirely different.
A Test of Love
Like any amateur detective, I have developed my own theories during World Cups.
One of them is that watching a World Cup final, or one of those nerve-racking semifinals, can be a surprisingly effective test of love.
I have witnessed ruthless cancellations made to escape with friends while leaving a partner at home. I have also seen official announcements declaring that certain World Cup dates are completely unavailable for any romantic plans. Very modern, indeed.
Then there are the strategists. The people who organize gatherings in absurdly distant locations or choose bars carefully positioned several kilometers away from their stress with a proper name.
But then there are the others.
The ones who watch the match together.
The ones who survive ninety minutes, extra time, a penalty shootout, and endless arguments about refereeing decisions without separating.
I don’t know if that is true love.
But I suspect it is a rather promising sign.
Conclusion
I have no idea who will win this World Cup.
Like many Latin Americans, my support usually goes first to any team from our region. And if none of them remain, I start adopting teams. Spain, Portugal, Italy, or any country that allows me to understand at least a few words during the post-match interviews.
But I must confess something.
When Germany plays, I get excited too.
After so many years here, so many winters, bureaucratic adventures, friendships, jobs, and memories, it is impossible not to feel something when the national anthem plays or when the team scores an important goal.
I have not stopped being Peruvian.
But I think Germany has stolen a small piece of my heart as well.
I am writing this in the middle of a stressful week, trying to plan a thousand things and finally become a functional adult.
And yet the World Cup arrives.
Suddenly I find myself discussing lineups, checking match schedules, and getting excited about twenty-two people chasing a ball across a field.
I suppose there are worse ways to escape adulthood for a little while.
