frankfurt

It was fitting that my final day in South America should be shrouded in rain and clouds. It reflected my mood somewhat. The traffic jams and the incessant car horms along the way just added to the solemn atmosphere.

Rio is a fairly sh*t airport. I could have forgiven it the ugliness if it was not such a recent construcion; 1999. Even the gormless taxi driver got lost in its tangle of spaggetti roads and loops. We ended up in the car park of Terminal 2. Not where we should be. After a series of conversations with some geezers hanging around he was still no wiser. I, in shocking Portugese, managed to navigate our way out of the web. Pointing, grunting and emphasising.

Checked in and returned outside for a smoke. Despite the gloom ( I was going to Thailand for heavens sake). I was thinking that it was great that the past six months had passed without injury (apart from serial liver attacks, self-induced), loss or even a whiff of crime. Eight countries. So much for the doomsayers.

The flight to Frankfurt was probably the best long haul of my life. Jacky had thoughfully given me some sleeping pills. I have notorious difficulties in sleeping and usually arrive knackered. Not this time, I ate the night meal, downed two pills and woke up just as breakfast was being served. Just lovely.

Plane arrived, dismarked, made my way to find someone to talk about my connection to Bangkok. WHAT! You see, I flew from Rio with Varig. I was to connect with Thai at Frankfurt. Thai would not accept any endorsed ticket from Varig. Hadn't done so for two months! No one told me! Old Varig as opposed to the new 'Varig Brazil' would not issue a refund. I would have to cough up....

I was like a violent whirlwind in that airport, spinning from one bunch of c*nts to another bunch of c*nts. It made absolutely no difference. I pleaded to their logic. I had paid for a $2k ticket six months prior. I had made use of three flights contained with that ticket and I now wished to make use of the final part. I have PAID. The internal f*ck up that is the soi distant 'Star Alliance' is none of my business and I should not be effected by it. The Mr GayPants behind the counter just got more hysterically girly and I realised that I needed to review my options.

The irony of all this is that when I orginally bought the ticket, the idea was to jump off at Frankfurt and make my way home. That would have covered my twelve month plan. But since I decided on the extension, timing and all had changed. For a while, I figured I would throw in the towel and revert to the original plan. It was fate after all! But I considered this while standing outside Frankfurt airport inthe chillyweather. In a tee shirt. Then I figured I would come to regret it if I quit although it would mean saving some dough and getting back to earnings some dough
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It all came down to one roll of the dice. If the ATM would allow me to withdraw 700 euros, the cost of the flight (taking off in 2 hours) then I would go. If, as I suspected, the card had a daily limit and 700 euros was over the threshold then I would take it on the chin as Fate and go to Dublin.

The dough was dispensed. I had to suffer the humilation of handing speaking nicely to Mr GayPants and boarded the plane to Bangkok. To compound my troubles, I lost my remaining two sleeping pills and had to endure 10 hours of clenched fisted, manic revenge plotting.

I was happy to finally arrive in Bangkok. When I had stepped into Rio Airport I had started my stopwatch, as I stepped out of Bangkoks new uber-modern, swish airport, the time read 36 hours 24 mins.

rio de janeiro

I took a bus from Sao Paulo to Rio. 5 hours in all. From the bus station I jumped in a taxi and managed to convey where I wanted to go to the taxi driver. I figured the better the devil you know so I opted for the same place I had stayed in back in June when I arrived. Hotel Turistico!

The city didn't have the same buzz as when I was there before. The football euphoria long since past. The weather wasn't as good either as it it rained a lot. There were a couple of days of 38 degrees though. At least I knew my way around and was less anxious too.

It feels safer than Sao Paulo. Not as dirty and overcrowded. I passed my time by visiting a few places I hadn't been before. The sugar loaf in particular. Although I shouldn't have bothered as the weather was dismal and the views were very restricted. I made my way to the Irish pub. Met some interesting characters, one a middle aged English bloke who had just decided to leave his family and shack up with a Brazilian woman. All well and good I thought. From where I was sitting the unseen part of his head looked a bit funny. Like something was bulging out of his head. I figured it was his ear but then he went on to tell me he had received a big payout for having the sh*t kicked out of him. He showed me his deformed cranium. He then went on to rant about England being swamped by immigrants. How tiresome! Him who emigrates to Brazil. Then I understood why he had had the shit kicked out of him.

One night I met some Italian blokes and ended up going to a club called Help. I can hardly articulate how beautiful all the women were. Simply gorgeous. I was in a constant state of shock. The ratio of men to women was quite a novelty too and then it clicked, they were all prostitutes! Why I hadn't figured this out earlier was beyond especially given the number of passes I was getting.

So it was time to leave South America. I was sad to go. This part of my trip exceeded all my expectations. I pinch myself when I think of all the places I have been and all the things I have done. When I arrived my objective was to trek to Manchu Pinchu. Back then I would hardly have believed all the things I would experience. Things I never new about. Love affairs I hadn't expected. A language I would kind of learn. A whole world of sights and sounds I will never forget.