I'm about to head to the airport, 8 hours before my flight is due to leave. Apparently during carnival it takes 3 hours to cover what is normally a 30 minute drive. The more I hear about this carnival the less I like the sound of it.
|FYI Big Corp is just on the coast, just to the left of Christ the Redeemer's head. So I did get pretty close at least.|
As I plan to head out, I note with some regret that I never did make it up to that big Jesus statue. Three times I tried, and three times I was foiled by slowness and shifting schedules. By slowness I mean the 25 minutes it takes to FedEx something (how hard can it be to hand someone an envelope?). By shifting schedules I mean meetings which were due to be over by 5pm, not even beginning till 6.30pm.
I'm afraid I have not been able to explode any regional stereotypes this week. Think Cariocas sit around in budgie smugglers munching on cheesy balls, saying 'ta bom' as their obligations slide away? Well, it's not a million miles from the truth.
For what it's worth I've turned a little Carioca myself. I spent most of my days in the office eating cheesy balls and dreaming of hitting the beach. Which is odd - and a little frustrating - since I came here in a big hurry for some super urgent and important meetings (which have achieved mythical status in my mind: what would we have talked about? did they ever really exist? will they ever happen?).
But I cannot grumble. For I did get to hit the beach, for a run or a stroll at the very least, most days. While it was a shame not to be in London, since TLOML wasn't there either, I feel okay about putting the flat hunt on hold. And I did get those amazing toucan flips flops.
As I write this, I heard the news that we finally got the visa approved. So it is with a skip in my step that I will, um, sit in 3 hours of traffic... Just a few more days and the real business of settling into London life can begin in earnest.