The Journey Begins

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After a few hiccups regarding baggage allowance at Tullamarine airport, I board an Emirates flight for Auckland - the first leg of my journey to São Paulo, Brasil. The flight was amazing, Emirates' services is fantastic and they cured my fear of flying. However, I had to sit next to a really floppy-skinned obese woman (younger than me!) with bad body odour, flatulence (silent but deadly would be an appropriate description) and that annoying foot tapping habit which is customary of sufferers of constipation.

Arriving in Auckland, I had 3 hours to spare so went off for a relaxing massage which saw me board my next flight, with Aerolineas Argentina, in a totally blissed out state.

On this flight I sat next to an ex-NZ rugby player with a penchant for lavender oil. As I never asked his name, I've just labelled him as Lavender Boy. He and a mate were also flying to Brasil to visit a spiritual healer somewhere near the capital, Brasilia. Lavender Boy played rugby for 10 years in NZ and had just recently moved to Japan where he has a contract playing for a Japanese league. He was a pretty interesting kind of guy, particularly when he adorned his face with a top of the range eye mask, complete with a tiny roll-on bottle of lavender which he dabbed on his person to induce a state of calmness. Ommmmm, ommmmm, ommmm. I must confess, however, that I dabbed same oil on my temples and the scent of lavender actually made the long flight to Buenos Aires much more bearable.

Arriving in Buenos Aires for stop over number two was a bit of a disappointment. The airport was crap and as I had no pesos on me and refused to cash in a USD100 bill to get some, I had to go fluid-less for two hours - no using a credit card to buy a bottle of water in Argentina! Needless to say, by the time I got on my next flight to São Paulo I was feeling pretty dehydrated and irritated.

Arriving in São Paulo was amazing. The airport is enormous and contrary to all my fears, the Federal Police at the airport weren't the evil men I had imagined. Even when I took the queue to declare that I was carrying medication (all my asthma paraphernalia) the friendly customs guy just waved me through as though he couldn't really be bothered to check my luggage (note to Medellin Cartel - explore possibility of using Guarulhos airport as new narcotrafficante route).

It took me about 15 minutes to get off the plane, pick up my luggage and get out of customs and Bira was there, waiting for me, with his head in a book!

Bira, then filled me up with the best hot chocolate I have ever had in my life. I think he did this deliberately so that all that caffeine would prepare me for the pseudo-Paris to Dakkar rally he would next take me on around the streets of the city.

Now listen to me carefully: these Paulistas (the name given to the residents of São Paulo) have NO FEAR. There is total anarchy on the roads, anything goes and... god forbid that anyone should use an indicator ("a what?"). It was a huge adrenaline rush and I couldn't stop laughing. Even at 11pm at night (yes, Bira, got lost driving home from the airport - you might think this is a strange thing for a guy who has lived here all his life, but if you could see this huge city you'd realise that it would be impossible not to get lost!) there were traffic jams.

This place is mad, crazy and a rhythm all it's own and I love it. I feel like I have been "born again". Pandora's box has been opened and there is no going back. The rhythm of life here is my rhythm, of life... the one that I have been always seeking.

There are so many different sounds, smells and sights that my brain is about to short circuit in its attempts to comprehend everything. No words can sufficiently describe how I feel in this huge metropolis that stretches for as far as the eye can see. It's beyond anything I could ever imagine (yes, even with my imagination!).

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