Don't let them hear you speak English. Dahlink.

First things first.  A couple of you asked why I haven't been across the street to go through the dumpster and trash bags to see what Sand's son is throwing out.

Last night less than 5 minutes after I got home from work I stampeded to the end of my driveway to take a picture so y'all can see how dark it is over there by the time I get home.  You can barely make out the garbage bags on the sidewalk and if y'all think I'm going all the way up into her yard by myself in the 'hood when it's this dark and climbing up and pulling stuff out of a dumpster, then you are crazier than I am!  And I have no desire to go over there at 7:00 a.m. before I go to work to dig through someone's trash.  And this should also show y'all why the EMTs went to the wrong house when they picked her up.  Who would think someone lived back in there?  Or that there is even a house.

Y'all said you wanted to hear about all of my crazy international travel stories, but it sounds like you wanted to hear about Brazil first.

Oh boy.

I'm not sure until I get going with this, but it might get lengthy and need to be broken up into more than one post.  We'll see.

I don't really want to go into a lot of detail about what HB is doing because I'd have to explain a lot about his background and I really don't want to get into all that, and there is just way too much to tell and it's not my place to put all of that on the internet.  But the shortest explanation I can give you as background to why some of the stuff happened that I experienced while I was there, is to tell you that he ran for political office (he didn't win), he has a lot of friends in some interesting roles, he's trying to fight some extreme corruption, and his ultimate reason for doing all of it is to help create a better future for the children who live in this particular state in the Amazon.  And I'm not going to say the name of the state for a number of reasons.

The entire trip was full of excitement, weirdness, and oddness.  I learned so much about how much I don't know about the world, and HB and I had great quality time together.  He was the only person I was able to communicate with for an entire week because I did not run into another English speaking person after I stepped foot out of the airport.  I honestly would not have survived had I tried a trip like this on my own.  He had to translate everything, order all of my food, get rental cars, arrange the hotel room, etc.  I was completely helpless since I did not know Portuguese.  At all.

He called me right before I took off and told me to have a safe trip and when I arrived at my final destination, the baggage claim would have a glass wall around it and I should look for him through the glass as he would be there to pick me up.  He told me that because he likes to play tricks on me which you will learn in a few minutes.

The weirdness started upon my arrival.

I had a layover for almost 9 hours in another city in the Amazon.  HB had warned me not to even walk out the front door of the airport since I don't speak the language.  He told me to wait until I got to Brazil to exchange currency because I would get a better rate down there than here, but if I needed money in the airport during my layover to only get a small amount because he could get me an even better rate in the final destination city where he would be waiting for me.

I happened to buy a bottle of water and a bag of trail mix at the Atlanta airport before I left and thank goodness I did.  It became my breakfast and lunch the next day because guess what?  While I sat in this airport overnight, I saw approximately 10 people the entire time.  There were maybe 4 other passengers, two people cleaning, a few airline employees and a person at a fast food restaurant.  No stores were open, no other restaurants were open, and no currency conversion places were open.  The counters for international flights did not even have employees working overnight.  And right then I knew, I was no longer in Atlanta's airport which is always crowded and bustling day and night.

But I need to back up.

When I was waiting at the gate in Atlanta, there was a group of people waiting for the same flight.  There were maybe 10 of them and a majority of them were wearing Arkansas shirts.  (University of?  Arkansas State?  Not sure.)  When we arrived at my layover city, I was getting my bags because after I finally found the one English speaking airport employee, I was informed my bags would not be sent on to my final destination and that I could not even check them yet for my next flight - I had to take them with me for the duration of my layover.  Which?  Fun.

Anyway, as I was getting my bag, this group of Arkansas people happened to be getting their bags and a whole bunch of giant storage bins.  They were sort of like the Rubbermaid big bins you store sweaters in and stuff except they were not transparent (they were dark gray and black) and they were duct taped.  And there were probably 15 or 20 of the bins, all of their suitcases and about 10 people.  Yet they were there one second and it was like they had disappeared into thin air when I turned around 5 seconds later.  It was very odd but I just thought to myself, "Well, I'm not observant of what's going on around me at all.  HB would know exactly where they went because he always knows what's going on in front of him, behind him, beside him, etc. at all times."  I couldn't stop thinking about it and couldn't figure out how that many people and that much stuff disappeared so quickly and quietly.

So there I sat for many hours munching on my trail mix and sipping my bottle of water all night.  I read, I did a gazillion Soduko puzzles, I listened to music, I dozed a few minutes here and there, and I was bored out of my freaking mind.

This is what I looked at for hours and hours and hours as I sat there from 4:00 a.m. until 1:00 p.m.  I actually took these on my way back home when I had another excruciatingly long layover in this airport.  This was around 4:00 in the afternoon in an international airport and you will see one other person.  Kind of different than Atlanta would be as far as busyness:

This is the counter for international flights.  So busy, huh?

About 5 minutes before I had been told I would be able to check my bags for my next flight, the front door of the airport opened (it's not a big airport so I sat in the only seats I found which happened to be right at the door) and a gigantic black SUV was sitting there with black tinted windows and a guy was opening up the back.  Suddenly, all of the Arkansas people came out of the vehicle and I heard the guy who was dropping them off talk and he was American.  He didn't say anything to help me figure out where they had been all night long, but they unloaded all of their bins and suitcases, etc. and brought them in the airport.  Turns out they were on my next flight too.

I was right behind them in line so I listened to their conversation like I was suddenly some sort of international detective and had to figure out what their business was, but it turns out I'm not a very good international detective.  I couldn't figure out anything.

We sat at the gate for another hour or more, and finally it was time to board the next plane.  I was a little nervous (not in a bad way) to see HB again because it had been a while, and I kind of wondered if it was going to be the way it had been when my ex-husband had been overseas and we had to "adjust" to each other again.  My last flight was a couple of hours in duration so as I boarded I told myself that I had a couple of hours to get myself to calm the heck down and get rid of the butterflies I was feeling.

I sat down and buckled up, a nice young man sat down next to me and buckled up, he said hello to me and we quickly realized we would be unable to communicate more than that because of the language barrier.

Suddenly, a head popped up between the seats from behind us and a man said, "What are you doing here, girl?" and obviously I was trying to figure out who in the hell could possibly know me on a plane in the middle of the Amazon.

I turned around to find myself looking into my favorite set of eyes on this entire planet.

It was HB.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed.  That was right before I started crying.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I'm so happy to see your sweet face.  But why are you on this plane?"

It turns out he had traveled to another city for some of the work he is doing the week before I came down and he had planned to fly back the day before my arrival and be there waiting on me, but the flights were full.  So he got a seat on my flight and decided to surprise me on the plane.  He actually tried to get the seat next to me but the best he could do was about 3 rows away.

I asked him why I never saw him at the gate.  His plane came from way down south in Brazil, stopped where I had my layover, some people got off the plane and then all of us got on.  So he was already on the plane.

Oh, y'all.  I know this sounds crazy, but it was just about the most romantic moment of my life and it made me feel like I was in a movie or something.

So I stared at the back of his cute head for the next couple of hours and then we arrived at our final destination.  We went to baggage claim to get our luggage and then guess what happened?

HB looked at me and said, "Dahlink" because he can't say darling with his accent, so he said "Dahlink, did you see that large group of people with those big plastic tubs?  Where did they go?  They just disappeared and I don't know how that happened.  They were right here and now they have disappeared into thin air and I am always aware of what's going on around me."

I said, "I KNOW!  They did that at the last airport.  It's so weird!"

You may be glad to hear that's the end of my stories about the Arkansas people and their bins with dead bodies in them or whatever they were toting around the jungle.  We never saw them again.

We took a taxi to our hotel where I discovered I was not in America anymore.  The hotel was the nicest hotel in the city but the hotel lobby had no walls.  And therefore, no a/c.  The hallways where the rooms are had walls but no a/c.  Our room had a window unit and we cranked that baby up high.  Because do you know what it's like in the Amazon?  It's hot, y'all.  It was about 105 - 110 degrees every single day I was there.  I drank about a dozen bottles of water and a couple of coconuts each day.  When I wasn't busy guzzling down fresh fruit juices every chance I got.

HB had asked me to bring him some stuff so I unpacked his new laptop, his 4 pairs of pants from Old Navy, his 3 bottles of cologne, his 4 CDs and a huge stack of his mail since it gets forwarded to me and I said, "Wow, I could have brought a lot more clothes if half of my suitcase wasn't stuff for you."  He gave me cash to pay me back for all of it and I said, "Didn't you ask me to bring one more thing?"  He could not remember anything else.  I reached in the pocket of my suitcase and pulled out a white matchbox car of a Hummer.  "Didn't you say you wanted a Hummer too?"

"Dahlink, you know I asked for a black one," he said laughing.

We had no rental car our first night there so we took a taxi to eat.  It was one of the freshest, tastiest meals I've had in my life.  And right then I knew, I was going to love the food in Brazil.  Steak, salad, rice, plantains, french fries, fresh fruit juice, oh it was good!  And it was at a straw roofed shack with plastic tables and plastic chairs on the sidewalk overlooking a river and cats constantly came up rubbing on our legs begging for food.  But it was one of the best meals of my life.

But I think it was mostly because I had this guy sitting across the table from me:

The next morning, HB said he was walking to get the rental car while I showered and got ready.  I offered to go with him but he said it was far and I would pass out from the heat so he went.  Turns out it was several miles away and he was drenched when he got back so I kind of loved him even more for not letting me go.  But guess what else doesn't have a/c in that city?  Most rental cars.  Ugh.

We also had a flat tire in ours one afternoon.

The city I was in was no tourist town and I would never tell anyone that's where they should go if they want to visit Brazil.  There's really not much to do at all for fun.  So I went around with HB and a preacher he is friends with while they worked.  I didn't care, 'cause I was with HB.

At some point our first day I asked him if he could take me to get some money converted and he said he needed to get some converted as well.  I guess he still had some American cash from when he lived here and converted it from time to time.

He pulled up to a strip of places that were advertising that they bought and sold gold.  As we were about to get out of the car he said, "Punkin" because he can't say pumpkin with his accent so he said, "Punkin, whatever you do, do not speak while we're in here.  Do not let them hear you speak one word of English.  Let me do all of the talking please.  And don't be scared."  Um, okay.  Sure.  Don't let them hear me speak English but try not to worry about it.

"Why are we getting money in a place I'm not allowed to speak?"

"Because this place gives much better rates than banks.  They don't like Americans but they like American cash."

As we opened the door, three men who had been sitting in various chairs around the office promptly stood up, folded their newspapers and stared at us.  One of them moved to the door and stood in front of it.  I'm not ashamed to tell y'all I was about to pee my pants.

We walked up to a man in a booth with a window which I assume was bullet proof glass.  There was a door behind him.  HB spoke got his cash converted and then held his hand out to me. I handed him my money, he got it converted and we walked back towards the door.  I shockingly kept my mouth closed.  The man by the door moved aside for us.

When we got to the car I asked, "Okay.  Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"They give the best rates in this entire city.  But did you see the door behind the guy in the window?  Behind that door they are doing arms trading."

"WHAT?!"

"The gold buying and selling is just a front.  Their real business is trading arms and that's part of why they give better deals for American cash."

Thankfully I converted enough that day that I didn't have to ask to go back.

Well, I think that's enough of this story for y'all to sit through for one day.  I'll pick it back up next time.