An Englishman walks into Ellis Park...

Last Saturday I finally ticked off a South African experience that I'd been looking forward to since moving here: watching England take on the Springboks in a rugby match at Ellis Park Stadium.

Although I'm not the biggest rugby fan, I do enjoy cosplaying as one from time to time as an excuse to drink shit beer and soak up the vibes. And attending the match meant that I could finally use the Gautrain, which I think I was more excited for. How sad.

Five months after moving to Johannesburg, it was my first time using public transport. After years of London trains, tubes and the occasional delayed National Rail service, there was something oddly comforting about tapping in and being sardined in with hundreds of Springbok fans heading to the stadium. It felt familiar. For a brief moment I could almost pretend I was heading to Twickenham.

There had been plenty of talk beforehand that the stadium wouldn't fill because ticket prices were so high. Instead, more than 52,000 people turned up and Ellis Park was bouncing. Sport really is one of life's great levellers. For eighty minutes, thousands of people from completely different backgrounds are united by the same songs, the same groans, the same celebrations. It didn't matter where you're from or what language you speak - everyone understands the emotional rollercoaster of supporting a team.

Unless you're supporting England - that emotional rollercoaster was more of a vertical drop.

The Springboks raced into a 17-0 lead inside the opening 12 minutes and, although England briefly threatened to make a game of it before half-time, the result never really felt in doubt. South Africa eventually ran out comfortable 45-21 winners. Annihilated.

I hadn't bought an England shirt (I did attempt to the week before but was laughed out of Sportman's Warehouse), but I was very obviously cheering for the visitors. Every time I clapped an England score or celebrated something vaguely positive, the South Africans around me seemed delighted. You can always count on rugby fans on being good-natured.

Another thing that I loved was watching how much everyone was drinking. Brits have a reputation for enjoying a pint, but South Africans may well have us beaten there too. People weren't walking around with beers. They were buying plastic jugs which we saw a barman pour an entire bottle of brandy into with just enough Coke added to change the colour.

Unsurprisingly to me, the stadium rules also felt more relaxed compared to UK standards.

You could enter the stadium carrying an unopened can of beer. Nobody seemed remotely concerned. Coming from the UK, where sporting events often involve airport-style security, restrictions on alcohol and stewards who look suspiciously at bottle tops, it was refreshingly low-key.

While security presence wasn't big inside the stadium, it was clear that city made sure the wider area was heavily policed for the event. Ellis Park sits on the edge of Hillbrow, an area with a fearsome reputation (and one I have written about here). It's somewhere many Johannesburg residents will advise you to avoid altogether. Yet arriving and leaving with tens of thousands of rugby fans felt completely straightforward.

If anything, it reminded me how beautiful parts of Johannesburg's CBD actually are when you have a reason, and perhaps a little courage, to visit. The old buildings, the skyline, the energy; there's so much character that too many people, myself included, rarely get to experience.

One thing I've learnt since moving to South Africa is that the moments you plan are rarely the ones that stay with you. I went to watch a rugby match. Instead, I found myself noticing train stations, city streets and diabolical drinking habits. That's the best part of living somewhere new. Even the ordinary starts to feel like sightseeing.

Notes from 26° South.