Reidwaan Joseph, a South African tour operator, says that on a typical winter's day, and remember that June is the start of winter in the southern hemisphere, he might make two runs to the Cape Town airport to pick up tourists visiting the Mother City. But there is nothing typical about the World Cup, the planet's most popular sporting event. These days, Mr. Joseph nearly lives in his car; sometimes making as many as 11 trips a day between the airport and the hotels of Cape Town. What was once unimaginable, during the days of apartheid when the world was boycotting South Africa, has happened in this "Rainbow Nation." The world has come to South Africa. International flights are jam-packed with passengers sporting soccer jerseys. Based on attire, not only jerseys, but caps, scarves, pins and any number of other team- and nation-identifying items, it seemed the flight from Amsterdam to Cape Town was mostly made up of fans from the Netherlands, England, Germany and Italy, this despite the fact that after South Africans, Americans purchased more tickets to the games than any other nationality. The 12-hour flight from the northern to southern hemisphere was surprisingly subdued – that is until the pilot began updating passengers on the scores of various games being played while we were in the air. Groans and cheers from the tired passengers indicated their loyalties. The mood was anything but subdued upon arriving in Cape Town. After clearing customs, international travelers were greeted with what has become the symbol of the 2010 World Cup, the sound of a vuvuzela. The blast of a single vuvuzela, its harsh tone ricocheting around the open space of the newly renovated airport, was just a tease of what was to come. Multiple that single tone by thousands of vuvuzelas being played in stadiums, and you quickly understand the buzz (pun intended) around this distinctive plastic instrument. Bleary-eyed travelers knew they had arrived in South Africa. A first-timer to Cape Town would have no idea of the amount of resources, time and energy that have gone into preparing to host the World Cup games. The airport was under construction for years. The roads have been expanded and improved upon. Pedestrian walks have been installed throughout the central business district. The police, not usually a visible presence, are everywhere. And, of course, there is the brand new stadium in Cape Town which, like stadiums everywhere, the locals either love or hate. There is an excitement in the air – a vibe – that I have never before experienced in more than a decade of visiting Cape Town. The energy doesn't come from the improvements that have made one of the most beautiful cities in the world even more stunning. It doesn't come from the stadium that is sure to become an icon of the cityscape. It doesn't even come from playing of the vuvuzela. I asked a waiter at a Cape Town restaurant just what it is that is creating this vibe. The waiter, a middle-aged Afrikaner not generally disposed to sentimentality, was absolutely gushing with enthusiasm. After a long explanation of all the nations represented at the games, about how thrilled people are to be here – even in a South African winter – the waiter suddenly stopped talking. He stood silent for a moment and then, before walking away from our table said, "I guess it's love, isn't it?" It seems that more than soccer fans have come to this rainbow nation.