6:24a.m.
The following day, yesterday as of now, was a bit intense. I had about 8 hours to study for a final and take it, print and fill out my passport application, and gather everything else that was needed to go to Rio. Despite unruly amounts of stress and impatience, everything turned out fine. I even think I did pretty good on my final. Although I’m still missing a few pieces of my application, I’m sure it’ll be okay. I still have about an hour and half before my meeting so I think I’ll watch the waves breaking on the rocks and the homeless being woken up by the police. After I finish my business, I’m going to try to find myself a starbucks.
12-02-09
11:30a.m.
...Sitting at the bus station waiting for my bus at 2:00 to go back to SJDR. Made it through the consulate alright. Funny, seems like there was only one American there and he was pretty much running the place. All the security, secretaries, and what not were all Brazilian. Not what I expected but that was fine. My final question to the guy when we were finished was: “Now where can I find myself a Starbucks?” He laughed. He told me where to find one and how to get there; the easiest way being by metro. So when I was outside, I started heading towards the nearest station. As I’m about to head down the stairs to catch a train, I hear, in English:”...And so we meet again!” It was a guy that I met in the consulate while waiting my turn. He told me that he’d been living in Rio for the past four years and when he heard that I was adventuring to a Starbucks, he told me “Man! You’re in Rio! You’ve got to try the coffee here, I know a real good spot; they pretty much invented the ‘cafezinho’, I’ll take you there...” And so we walked on. Strange character he was. He told me that he “taught english”, he came from Los Angeles, and his income came from a “family business”. He also told me he lived in a favela. He kind of looked like the main character in ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ looked in real life twenty years later. One lazy eye, both eyelids halfway shut, bald wearing a black baret. The kind of guy who laughs at his own experiences thinking: ‘damn that was a crazy freaking time’. Although vacant and appearing unintelligent at first glance, he did, at times, produce little blurbs of evidence that the gears were working. Every once in a while, he would state some kind of historical fact about a specific building or the city of Rio but then proceeded to mindlessly rant about it. So after he got us lost a few times, we finally made it to that cafe. I was unimpressed. Although this was the first place I’d seen in Brazil that made coffee naturally, it still didn’t meet my standards. Fun anyway, even though the coffee was no good, the company was nice and seeing a new city is always fun. Afterwards, he showed me which bus to take to the bus station and bid me farewell. So now I’m here, waiting for my bus back home, at the end of this endless journey. Another seven hours and it’s back to finals week. woot!
12-03-09
Cyrille Gindreau
P.S. I have to go back to Rio in a few weeks to pic up my passport. Maybe I’ll see our gardian angel, or maybe the sketchy, burnt out American...
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