Extension in the Amazon

Actually – and I emphasize: actually – our flight was supposed to leave at 2:00 AM. That was the naive dream. The pious wish. The romantic illusion we once called a flight schedule. Instead, it was postponed by the hour. Like a poorly organized children's birthday party. Always nice: 'Just one more hour!' – until in the end nothing worked at all.

Why? Oh, a little fog cloud. Well, 'little' in the sense of: spanning the width of the Amazon, Godzilla could have disappeared in it, and Brazilian aviation collectively decided: 'Nah, we're not doing anything today.' Flights? No. Landings? God forbid. Welcome to the fog of Mordor.

So: flight canceled, mood on the ground. Literally. We then drove to the hostel – which at that moment felt more like a retreat into exile – where we got a 'private' room for the price of two beers and a mid-quality burrito. Four walls, two single beds, and the quiet promise that we might somehow survive it. We then went to sleep since we had stayed up all night. Well – lying on a terminal floor for hours, surrounded by mosquito spray, duty-free bags, and crying children, probably doesn't count as REM sleep.

During the day at least: beach. Sun. Good food. You might almost think life wants to apologize. 'Sorry for the flight fiasco, here, eat something delicious, drink Caipis, and look at the sea.' Thank you, universe. Very generous.

Now – 5:00 PM – we're back at the airport. New attempt, new flight, new luck. Or maybe not. Let’s see if this time any plane actually wants to take off.

You’ll hear from us. Maybe. If we don't get swallowed up by another 'weather phenomenon' first. In this sense: 😌✌️