Rebirth Of Cool
Time was running out on my visa, with 21 days left and still lots to see and do, I attempted to extend my visa. I assembled all the necessary forms and evidence, which was a kerfuffle itself, and had heard/read many horror stories regarding the bureaucracy of Brazil. I was not confident.
On Monday they will switch to a new online system due to the inadequacies of the current one, which have people camping in the airport and waiting the whole day, others being turned away 10 minutes after opening due to filled quotas.
I planned to get there early in what was a 3 day program of naps and not napping to prime myself to be at the peak of tiredness when I needed it most. Shattered, I went to bed at 7:30pm the previous night to wake up at 11:30pm (solid 4 hours), watch the basketball and leave early. But my body didn't agree...
Anytime I sleep before 9 o'clock he thinks I'm napping and wakes me up after a maximum of 2 hours, which is a massive ballache. So anyway, I faffed until the warriors game, considering allowing myself to sleep if I felt like it, but alas, I did not. For chef Curry put on an absolute show. I can only equate it to a long term girlfriend doing something to remind you why you fell so deeply in love with them in the first place. He was incredible and produced a performance that you (and I) can forever relive here...
Its funny, I remember in uni learning about sports teams and the attachment of ones self esteem to their team. When the team wins, they are happy and feel good about themselves; when they lose, they take it as a personal loss. Something very strong in my family. Don't believe me? Try and talk to Dad /Berty after Luton/Arsenal have taken a loss. But for real, I never quite got it, maybe I shouldn't have jumped around teams so much. But with the Warriors, I feel it, the other night when we were struggling to make shots I genuinely felt uncomfortable, and frustrated, and not just with the team, albeit a lot with the team. I was feeling particularly sunken when we missed the shot to win the game. In stark contrast, after Wednesdays game I left for the airport feeling perfectly happy, like nothing could go wrong. It's funny, I now have the love for a team, a particular trait from my father no doubt, but in true rebellious fashion I've rejected football and fallen for basketball. Same same, but different.
Maybe that's why I love a bandwagon, a lil' pick me up, the first team I watched play here, Flamengo, have a game tomorrow against top of the table, a win pulling them within one point with 8 or so games to go, and guess who has the hat? ...It's me ...I have the hat. Vamos.
But I digress, back to the airport. When I got there, I danced through the empty corridor all the way to the foreigners office expecting to be the first one there at 2:30am, being that the office did not open till 8. However, there was already a line of 8 bags surrounded by hippies and immigrants sleeping on benches and mats. There was a leak from the rain and the place stunk, mainly of feet, but also of hippy. I couldn't stand it. I went round the corner to read my book in more pleasant aromas, getting through the whole of the Phantom Tollbooth, an enjoyable read with an 'Alice in Wonderland' vibe and many messages to take from it.
A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.
I particularly liked the demons such as Terrible Trivium; demon of petty tasks and worthless jobs, ogre of wasted effort and monster of habit, The Triple Demon of Compromise, who always ended up in circles agreeing to do what nobody wanted and Hopping Hindsight to name but a few. All burdensome traits but all so relative to each of us.
Once I'd finished the book, by 4:30am, the corridor began to gradually fill up and funny enough I met a few people who I'd encountered on my travels, the tourist office becoming a social event for gringos to catch up, like rhinos at a watering hole. As 7 o'clock rolled around, I began to lag, until the call was made to get in line. As we did, a police officer appeared and began handing out tickets. Kicking bags out of the way and skipping those who hadn't got their passport ready to hand. Lucky I wasn't first, I thought. I faffed around to get mine out just in time, being given the 3rd ticket. Beleza. He continued along with this ruthless approach all the way to the end before returning to his hole as we waited for another hour.
In this hour I felt a few waves of self doubt, for no real reason, just telling myself I'd probably filled the form out wrong and was half resigned to trying again. I needed another Curry basket to get me going. I had watched the video above at least twice. Once in, the numbers were called. I handed over my forms and took a seat. I couldn't read 'The Outsider' because I was still a little tense and was reading it at lightning speed which did not work with the small sentences. So, I opted for a Portuguese book I'd been gifted, which was surprisingly easier, activating my mind and taking it off of things and passing time (something Tock from the phantom tollbooth would not be happy with)(he's a watchdog)(a dog with a watch strapped to him). With what felt like no time at all, but had been an hour, I was called up and given my extension. Until 5th Feb.
easy peasy squeezy lemons chilllll.
Out within an hour. Before this I was ready and expecting to write up about the pitfalls of Brazilian immigration but I've gotta say it was as smooth as any bureaucracy I've ever experienced, same as Americans and in fact the student loans in England is way worse. But it should be noted, I was there early and one of the first to be seen, I imagine the others had a longer wait.
So I'm here for another 3 months, living with the same guys, ready to continue my Portuguese and see a few more things. At the moment I won't be able to stay for Carnaval, but I have options and that's a long way off. When I was first at the Christ I remember not feeling as if I was here. Not really sure why I was there or what I was doing, but I can say now that I am here. I feel comfortable. Know what I'm doing and only doing what I want. I've had great chats with people back home including my Nan who I know follows this blog. When I chatted with her about goings on here and there and how I'm growing my hair, she replied "back to normal then" and she's right. I do feel back to normal and back to myself.
I'm doing things that I really want to do, tonight I'll hit up a bar to watch basketball after I've finished this and done some coding. Last night I stumbled upon a bar with half price beer and a live jazz band just jammin, so I took to that. I spent the evening sat picking up the good vibrations, with my ears, following them, letting them lead my mind to thoughts of past, present and future all in a positive light as I continue my next few months here in Brazil.
