The mission: Carnaval (KAR-NEE-VOW)

The place: Rio de Janeiro

Carnaval is a fiesta celebrated in many countries around the world. Its origins come straight from ancient Egyptian ceremonies in honor to the god Osiris. Similar celebrations took place in the ancient Greek and Roman Empires. Trickling through the empires and to Portugal, Brazil finds its Carnaval. The name "Carnaval" comes from the Italian expression "carne vale" (meat worth it), that makes the meat fast and the introspection of Lent worth the feast of food, music and sex.

Carnival follies haven't a precise time to take place. They usually happen just before Lent, the 40-day period preceding the Easter holiday. The Catholic Easter date was established by the Niceia's Council in the year 325 A.D. The key to calculate the right time for it is the equinox, the day when the sun passes the Equator, up to the North, and the first spring day. It is also the first Sunday during or after the year's first full moon.

The two heroes of the story weren't exactly honoring Osiris this particular visit; however, they were delving into some healthy self-indulgence. Nothing wrong with that, I think - at least in moderation. "Moderation" - I don't know if there is a word for that in the Portuguese language. If there is, I'm not even going to learn how to pronounce it.

Getting into the country proved to be the biggest obstacle. After going through many delays and near show-stopping barriers in Houston, our visas finally were approved. Of course that required a last-minute road trip from Dallas to Houston, delaying the flight one day; then there was removing Chris' passport and application from a firm handling the visa, then showing up at the Brazilian Consulate begging and playing the waiting game until the last possible minute for the approval. We sped fast out of the Consulate parking lot and made the flight to Sao Paulo with only 15 minutes to spare.

The plane ride proved to be a very short one. Basically, I have about two hours worth of memory regarding the flight. I wish I could say those hours were fantastic, but stale air - and, for some strange reason, the swelling of my feet - always seems to taint the overall experience.

On the upside, there were brief glimpses of what I hoped to be the Caribbean; a future trip brews in the mind of that prospect. The other, more wonderful, free booze on an international flight may have something to do with my brief memory too, but I can't be sure.

Awakening to depressurization queasiness sure isn't my preferred method. Chris had ridden in a C-130 many a time, so he was immune; in fact he seemed to enjoy it. I have to admit that it was entertaining, once you get the notion that this is basically the only way of knowing that you are in an airplane and not in some type of Truman Show time warp.

We landed and got into the airport easily but had plenty of time to hang out in Brazilian Customs until it was our turn to get our stamp of the day to gain access. Popping through those doors and into the main terminal was great. A sense of what lay ahead of us made the excitement level rise, and the desire for currency, transport to Rio, and liquid determination were on the shopping list: we knocked them off one by one.

We had a couple of hours till the flight to Rio, so we stopped at the local bar and began the task of communicating in Portuguese. The language is similar to Spanish, so we both gained confidence quickly. We discovered Carpinhina, the Brazilian national drink. Very tasty little concoction: two limes diced up, 1/2 cup of sugar ground together, mixed with Cachaca till your glass is full ,then shake, strain, and serve on the rocks with the chunks of lime.

The flight to Rio went off without a problem. A short 45-minute ride later, Rio was in sight. Rio de Janeiro has a population estimated at about 9 million people, and it's a very densely populated area. Banking around for the landing, the profile of the ocean and Copacabana beach become visible. Sugar Loaf Mountain just to the north of it, and to the west of the beach, the Dom Christo.

We touched down a little after 6 and made our way to the terminal. There we met Adaí. Adaí was the person we had been dealing with for about two weeks on an apartment rental. I expected a much different person than who we met: an older gentlemen, 57 years old, holding up a sign with Chris' name on it. He greeted us warmly and invited us back to his car for transport to Leme Beach, Sampaio Rua Gustavo, 630 Apt. 1006 (northern horn of Copacabana).

Questions?
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