The Cuban Visa

Last (I hope) saga about a visa.

Two weeks and some days away from going home, it is time to think about the stopover I planned in Cuba. Because yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, we need a visa to visit Castro's country. At least, that's what one can read on the canadian governement website.

In fact, it is necessary to get a "visitor's card". Most Canadians get one when they book through a travel agency. It means they often ignore they need it because they didn't have to ask for it. But for a nomad like me, who booked online, it is necessary to go to the consulate to get the piece of paper.

Informations are contradictory online. In some places, they'll say it is possible to pay to get the card at the airport in Habana. Others say you'll need the card at check-in or you'll be denied boarding.

No need to take chances. I found the correct list of documents I needed. Passport, a copy of my ticket, proof of stay... Form filled (impossible to find it online), proof of insurance and other papers also appear on some lists online. Hard to find your way.

Same for the time needed to get the card. Mystery.

I asked people at my hostel to phone the consulate in Sao Paulo (yo no hablo el portuguese) to ask. They said with my documents, I would get the visa the same day.

Took my courage (and patience) in both my hands and headed to the consulate. Got there 40 minutes before it closed. Was the last one in.

I thought it would be harder. But the visa guy was really nice, understood I didn't speak portuguese. With a half filled form, because I didn't know what to write in most of the spaces to fill, and a signature, the man was happy. I needed a copy of my ticket, a copy of my passport and a proof of stay in a hostel.

Couple of minutes later, he printed my card. I can get in Cuba without any problem.

Was easy.

A Brazilian Big Appel

Praça de Sé, Sao Paulo

Here I am in one of the biggest cities in the world : Sao Paulo.

First thing : the "metropol" title is well deserved. The city is huge.

Everywhere, when I said I wanted to stop there, people asked why. Nothing to do in Sao Paulo they say. No smoke without fire, they say. So it's a little bit true there is nothing to do.

A little bit false too, because one only needs to appreciate urban landscapes and architecture to stay busy... at least one day.

Good news are it is possible to slow down in Sao Paulo. Paulista Avenue is probably the most interesting, especially because of the decorated phone booths and the strange buildings. Museums will keep the arts lovers busy, especially the MASP, where you can find art pieces from Van Gogh and Cezanne.

My favorite was the Image and Sound Museum, where they had an exposition about Georges Méliès with french writings... and a lot of movies.

But the most interesting part of the city was my hostel, Hey Hostel, opened only since last week. One of the owners, whose my age, traveled around the world for seven months two years ago. He now travels through his clients. It gives me ideas for when I'll be back home.

Have I said I tried a "wine", or a kind of cachça made with grapes, which I could drink?

Iguazu

I stayed in Sao Paulo for one extra day. If I planned on flying to Iguazu Falls today, I had a small problem with my bookings. The brazilian websites won't let you book anything without a brazilian ID number. But they still ask which country you're from. Nothing to understand.

People at the hostel were kind enough to pay the ticket with their credit card in exchange for the same amount in cash. While doing that, we found a flight on Wedenesday, with Web Jet, which was 40 $ cheaper. Way cheaper than taking the bus. And cheaper than flying on Tuesday.

In the air, Iguazu is about two and a half hours away from Sao Paulo. On the road, you must allow 18 hours. I win all the way.

The other good news is I might reunite with a friend I met in Vietnam. She's in Argentina until Sunday. We'll see what we can arrange.

In the end, have I said it is impossible to dry clothes in Brazil? Humidity is too high. When I left Paraty, even the clothes I didn't wear we're damp.

Six shooters later

Paraty, Brazil

Warning : no "Oh my God" neither any joke will be accepted after reading this post.

--------------------------------------------------

The man finally left the postcard landscapes of Rio de Janeiro for the little town of Paraty, somewhere along the road to Sao Paulo.

Even if the road is beautiful and the bus comfortable compared to all the rumours you can hear about them buses down here, I used those four hours of traveling to catch up on my sleep.

(Parenthesis, literally, about the buses. The city buses, on the other hand, are not as comfortable. Suspension? Never heard of that.)

In Paraty, what is there to do? Almost nothing, it seems. But I enrolled in a horseback riding expedition in the brazilian jungle. A really good choice.

On Cassiqui back, a white horse who seemed to obey less to my directions than his need to follow the other horses, I experienced galoping, dirt paths and rivers to cross. We stopped at a freezing fall where our group of three went for a "polar" bath.

From there, we visited a cachaça distillery, where they make that brazlian alcohol with sugar canes. Yes, I tasted it.

It was my luck. After the "pure" cachaça, there were still five sorts of that drink, from the worst one to the one with caramel in it. Had a shooter of each. Got a confirmation from the Australian girl next to met, who never drinks either : six shooters in three minutes, it's enough to feel tipsy. Five tipsy minutes while horseback riding...

We came back just before I started thinking of complaining about some pain... Felt nothing but it sure will catch me tomorrow.

After pure tourism and problems in the last few days, this adventure allowed me to go back to the discovery part of my round-the-world trip.

I also met a Danish journalist who have been writing about politics for eight years. It'll help if I ever discover myself some talent in the danish language... And it helped with interesting discussions.

A 28 years old grandfather

On top of Corcovado, Rio

Rio de Janeiro. One of the cities I wanted to see the most. But the adventure started rough and wasn't too enchanting.

The hostel I chose opened recently. They didn't let me access my room when I got in, at 7:30 AM, even if there was nobody in the room. Lack of experience.

I couldn't find a map of the city either. I was counting on them, because I couldn't get one at the airport. Like the ATM and the information desk. Missing. Or I didn't look at the right places. No map, in an unknow city, it feels a little strange.

When I finally got out to explore, I bought a bottle of water. First store, first scam. The old lady used the language barrier to shortchange me. But I was aware.

I lost a little bit of time organizing everything and determining what I wanted to do. To choose where I would go after. I decided to head to Paraty, starting tomorrow, a city right in between Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo. But it seems it is impossible to get a bus ticket online, in Brazil, when you don't have a brazilian social number. Damn! I will get to the station hoping they still have tickets.

Still in the cateogry "bad lucks", the lense of my small camera is scratched. It blurs some parts of my pictures. But I was counting on good old Bertha, a "bridge" I've owned for six years, I also brought with me around the world. After a sunset on Pao de Açucar (Sugarloaf), Bertha died suddenly. Useless.

I spent the morning trying to find a new camera. Because of importation fees, prices are way higher than they are in Canada. A man got to do what a man got to go. I didn't choose the best one, but I will at least be able to take pictures for the next few weeks.

In the stores of the city, it is recommended to pay cash. If not, the fees are very high. They would have charged me 40 $ more. Made it fast to the nearest ATM.

Security

Security wise, the question I get often is if it is dangerous to stroll down the streets of Rio. I admit I didn't know what to think at first. There are lots of weirdos everywhere. Homeless people are in every corner. I was paying attention to my camera to make sure I was safe (had I know it was about to break...)

On the first night, after a walk on Ipanema beach and a late dinner in Copacabana area, I went back with the metro, then walking, after 11 PM. No problem. Women could walk alone late at night. There was no danger at all.

Of course there is the favelas, those poor areas with small houses pilled up on one another. They are known for poverty, robbers and dealers. Gun shots can be heard there. It is not advised to go there on your own.

The truth is, since they got the 2016 Olympics in Rio, police officers are everywhere in the favelas. They started a big clean up. But people from other gangs are trying to take advantage of the other dealers to get their territory. Not a good idea to be there alone.

So I went on a tour with a company called Don't be a gringo, be a local. I felt no danger at all. Part of the profits of the tour are going to take care of the kids between 0 and 4 years old in Rocinha favela. The guides know everybody in there.

I rode a scooter to get on top of the favela, than visited local artists studios, a bakery... When you know most favelas citizens have big families and they start having children between 12 and 14 years old, it makes you think. There was even a man who was a grandfather twice... and he was only 28 years old.

Tourism

Rio is magnificient. We know about Corcovado, the Christ the Redeemer and Sugarloaf. In the first case, it is recommended to buy a train ticket to go up the mountain as much as possible. Even if you need to come back later to get on it. In our case, we would have had to wait for three hours because we hadn't book anything. We chose to go up with a bus.

On top, the crowd left little room to see the landscape. But it is worth it to climb up there. Especially towards the end of the day, to see the sunset and the night view.

To get to the top of Sugarloaf, the best way to avoid the line for the first lift is to climb the Urca hill by foot. But it takes a little effort. A good one even. The view from the top will be your reward.

And there is the famous beaches like Ipanema and Copacabana, where the speedo and the string are proudly worn. For people of all sizes... Even in winter, with temperatures around 30 Celsius, beaches are full of people.

The Brazilian themselves are like the French : the less sympathetic you are, the more chances you have of working in the tourism industry. At almost every counter where you can buy tickets, they make a mad face like they hate us.

Brazlian are also like Chinese, in that sense where it is better not to say the opposite of what they told you. It is like that because it is like that. That's what happened with that post office guy who kept answering the same way when I asked for stamps. "No stamps" he says.

Where can I buy stamps? "No stamps!"

Ok listen. I want to send letters. How do I do? "No stamps."

It is because here, they print the "stamp" on the envelope. But this guy could have just understood that I wanted to send letters and do whatever he needs to do instead of getting stuck on the stamps matter... 

Same for that woman in the metro, who refused the exact change I was giving her to buy a ticket. I think she wanted to get rid of her coins.

See, that's what it does when I spend some days without writing. You're stuck reading a whole novel...

Never again on TAP. NE-VER!

Ipanema beach

I still haven't sent my complaint letter. But I so want to ask for a refund.

You know, that time I lost my luggages? Well, it was one side of the incompetence of some TAP Airlines employees.

For my flight between Lisbon and Rio de Janeiro, which was supposed to stop for eight hours in Recife, I spent more money than ever on one single ticket.

Surprise number 1 : the flight is delayed for one and a half hour, without any clear reason.

At check-in, I was told my luggage would go directly to Rio de Janeiro, despite the stopover. I'm in doubt. Eight hours, or six and half now, maybe that is not enough for them to transfer my luggage properly... I'm bitter!

So I get to gate number 44, as my freshly printed ticket says I should do.

Making my way there, I hear at least ten messages for a change of gate. Seriously, some Portuguese have trouble with sticking to one decision.
 
Of course, the number of my gate is changing too. Will luggages follow? 

We end up boarding. An announcement says departure is delayed again, for thirty more minutes, which became 45.

Once we took off, I rushed to the entertainment system to see what movie was available for the seven hours of my flight. I was enthusiast about The Hunger Games and Les Intouchables. I should have time to see both.

But of course, the entertainment system... wasn't working properly. I told the flight attendant, who didn't seem to care.

One hour later, they restarted my system, but it still wasn't working correctly. I was told they were sorry, but there was not other available seat on the plane, so I would have to do without the entertainment system.

In Recife airport, since I didn't trust TAP, i decided to wait for my luggage on the conveyer belt, in case they were to show up. Surprise number two : they showed up. I had to check them in a second time. Thanks TAP for giving me wrong informations.

And to end it all, my flight to Recife was leaving earlier than expected. Respecting schedules is not in TAP and its partners culture it looks like.

At least, my luggages went all the way to my final destination.

Fast news

- You know when you stand up to get to the gate, in the airport, even if nobody said boarding had begun? Well, the plane is not gonna leave earlier because of that. There is no use to it. You will still need to wait for the last passenger to board before take off.

- If they offer porn magazines in airports, it means some people buy them. Who buys that for a flight?

- When you put a canadian flag on your backpack, everybody knows you're an english speaking canadian. But it's not necessary. For an unknow reason, the first time I traveled, I was told to put such a flag on my bag so people wouldn't think I'm American. Honestly, it's useless. And it looks a little silly.

Five months, a story without karma

The countdown to my return as really, really started. Those who see the glass half full will say I've been on the road for five months. Those who see the glass half empty will say I have less than a month to go around far, far away countries. To make mine this Earth.

I'm of those who see the glass half empty right now. Because I really don't want to go back, except to spend a couple of hours with that godson who misses me (rightfully) a little too much for his little kid heart.

That said, in the assessment area, I can tell the fifth month was the most intense, as much on the questionning side, the non necessary stress side and unforgettable encounters. Maybe I'm getting more and more sensitive with time.

That last month was marked by a visit in the hospital, an improvised pit stop in Greece, the purchase of my  most expensive flight ever, even if it's a one way flight, a very strange adventure to get my visa for Brazil, lost luggages and deeply moving encounters. It was the time of my most depressing moments too, because of all of those adventures. I needed to stop many times, on park benches, anywhere in fact, because i didn't want to move anymore. Because I needed to pause, think right there, and try to get over that hollow of vagueness. Searching for a meaning to all of this...

Month number 5 was marked by the discovery of strong links you can build in 24 hours, the astonishment is still present when someone says "I genuinely enjoyed my time with you"- after only a few hours - this impression of hating life because it brings us apart too fast from people we might never see again and have been in our lives for too short.

Month number 5 is testing the confidence in ourselves, getting older too fast, making decisions for the future, which is still too close, and will definitely catch us somewhere. It's wishing those decisions hold when time will come to make them true. It's searching for a way to spend six more months traveling, in pure improvisation this time, to test the speed of the wind that will bring us who-knows-where.

Month number 5 is receiving love from home, from people too stressed out to say "I love you" daily, but are taking time for me because they are missing me. It's always when you leave that people start realizing how much you mean to them.

Month number 5, it's pushing a little too much on the batteries, moving often from a country to another, and feeling like we need to land somewhere, only if it was for five consecutive days. But regretting nothing, because it was so worth it.

Month number 5, it's thinking you need to go back, just so you are ready when time comes. Actually, I booked all the flights I need to get back to Montreal. If I see myself holding on the door of the plane, at Pierre-Elliott-Trudeau airport, refusing to let go of that trip of a lifetime, I'm trying to think positive to tell myself everything will be fine. And I try to trust those words I saw on a fence, in a park in Helsinki : "One day, I'll get over all of my doubts".

Here are the cities I've seen in the last month :

Thailand : Chiang Mai, Bangkok.
Jordan : Amman, Petra (Wadi Musa), Wadi Rum, Amman
Greece : Athens, Mykonos
Lithuania : Vilnius, Trakai
Latvia : Riga, Sigulda
Estonia : Tallinn, Lahemaa national park
Finland : Helsinki
Portugal : Lisbon, Lagos, Sagres

Strangely Portugal

Sagres

With all those stories about karma filled with emotion, I neglected to talk about my latest destination : Portugal.

If I say San Francisco is one of my favorite cities in the whole world (until now) and Lisbon reminds me of San Francisco, it shows how I like the place.

The expected heat didn't show up. A modest 28 degrees Celsius was a "cold" maximum in here. I also needed to put a sweater on in the evening because it got chilly.

But it seems the sun will make its magic happen in the next few days, since we expect temperatures around 37 and 40.

Other thing : a very important music festival, with Radiohead as a headliner, took place last week-end. Everybody was converging to the capital and was trying to find a bed in a hostel.

I, again, had no clue that was happening. But it wasn't the end of the world. I packed my belongings, visited three different hostels in Lisbon, and booked a bus ticket to Lagos, in the south.

It is a party city where youth and douchebags are kings. So Lagos doesn't make me feel particularly at home. But the walk I made from cliff to cliff was worth it. Beaches are beautiful and not as commercial as the ones I saw in Greece.

The next day, for my birthday, I went to Sagres, where is Cape Saint-Vincent, the most south-eastern point in Europe. It is very windy but the view is amazing. The only shadow came from the information desk, closed, on which I was counting to help me find something to do. It is closed on Sundays et Mondays. Like all tourists were taking days off on these particular days.

That said, why is Portugal that strange? Because of my visa story, first, which brought me the help of a total stranger.

Because of that old lady, too, who gave me directions to find the bus station. She answered in Portuguese with informations I knew weren't right, because she didn't get the question. She gave me a very passionate kiss on the cheek when I said "Thank you". 

For the pepople working in the tourist business, who are the less sympathetic people in the country.

For that other old lady I took directions from, who looked intimidated at first, but whose eyes lightened up when I mumbled centro, to say I wanted to find my way back downtown.

For all those dealers, twelve for every square meter, offering hasch, cocaine and marijuana to tourists. They won't take no as an answer. They will follow you to make sure you understood what they had to offer.

For those waiters in Lagos restaurant, laughing each time they looked at me, until one of them, shy, came to ask me if I was an actor.

For that man who sat next to me while I was looking at the national palace and who told me why he was visiting Portugal, without any introduction. He's from Dubaï and he gave me his email address, saying he would organize a trip for me when I get to Dubaï. All of that in six minutes and a half.

For that Thai girl, I met two hours later, who asked at what time the metro stopped. I brought her safely to the next metro station without even knowing her name.

And Portugal is strange because here, girls think I'm funny...

It takes all sorts of people to make a world.

A last time about karma

Sintra

Maybe I should shut up already...

But the next story might be of some interest. And it talks about my new favorite subject : karma.

So let's start where we left it : the lost luggages.

After a night without my luggages, I put on my only underwears, the same smelly socks, to try to get my visa for brazil. All I have is the address of the consulate. And a confidence which is not doing too well.

Because we'll say the truth : probabilities are against me. Not only because of my socks. It takes about 10 working days to get a visa for Brazil. At least in other countries. About Portugal, I found nothing on the "simple" consulate website. All I know is I'm supposed to fly in seven working days.

I get there around 10 AM. The place is full like the hospital waiting room. And as chaotic. I end up getting, from the security guard, who doesn't speak english, that the visa requests must be handed on the second floor.

There, the room is full too. There are people with numbers. People waiting for I don't know what. I don't know what to do in that confusion.

I go back down and the security guard, still unable to answer my questions, send me to the information desk. The line is long and moves slowly.

After some sights (because it takes a long time and it's hot in Portugal with jeans on), the woman behind me talks to me. She understands english but hardly speaks it. I tell her I wish the woman at the desk speaks or at least understands english.

We start chatting. She looks unsure when I tell her my flight is booked for next Wednesday, even if I don't have my visa yet. Thanks for the encouragement.

My turn.

Like I anticipated, the very not sympathetic woman at the desk doesn't speak english. She gives me a piece of paper, circling words in portuguese and she calls the next client. Thanks for the compassion, Miss!

Except the woman behind me won't let that happen. Oh no! Oh, hell no! Because she's a lawyer.

She gets next to me and explains I needed an appointement to hand my visa request. Me, I don't have an appointement, because I didn't find that information in a language I could understand, even if I made some researches.

The lawyer tells me to follow her. Together, we go up to the next floor and she asks to talk with someone in charge, explaining my situation. What helps is that I already filled all the papers needed for my request (one of them was a form online).

After a serious discussion, the man says I can get to the desk in ten minutes.

That is when the lawyer, whose name I didn't even get to ask, hugs me and leaves wishing me luck. I hope she'll ask for the beer or the meal I owe her one day, if she ever finds me back.

At the desk, the woman offers me the face of the day, the one saying "sorry, can't do anything", when she finds out I have no appointement. But I'm not moving. I repeat I was told to wait there. I haven't sweat in my only clothes, in a room without any fresh air, to be shown the door two hours later.

It worked. A little cooperation.

Forms filled, I was told my visa would be ready... in two days!

Haaaaaalllllelujah! (Can you hear the bells?)

Yes, yes, yes, I went two days later and the visa was ready. Going to Brazil on Wednesday! Who said it was complicated to get that visa for Brazil?

In the mean time, karma caught me for that big luck. My fifth sunglasses, bought right when I walked out of the consulate, did beat a mediocrity record by commiting suicide less than 24 hours after the beginning of our relation. Direction : trash!

The king is dead, long live the king! I now am wearing my sixth sunglasses. Wish me luck!

The Story of The Lost Luggages

Lisbon

I should have shut my mouth!

I should have shut up with my karma stories. Like I said in my past message, when you spit in the wind, it falls back on you. But I'll have a second story that should balance it all. Which would prove I don't know what to think at all about karma.

After saying all those good things about Helsinki airport, I boarded my flight to Prague like I was supposed to. It looks like a stopover of one hour, on my way to Lisbon, was enough for me to walk from gate C4 to gate C7 (about 50 meters), in the airport, but that the luggage handlers needed at least 12 hours more to send my stuff in the right place. Looks like the distance to fill was longer in their kart.

When I got to Lisbon, with the not so good company TAP, the landing was rough. We were 30 minutes late. And while everybody was waiting next to the conveyor, the intercom said it would take 15 more minutes for the luggages to get there. Maybe they needed more time to process that rough landing.

That is where I said to myself : it would be the worst time ever to lose my luggage.

Déjà-vu!

I should have shut up in my head.

I told myself the exact same thing in San Francisco airport two years ago. Magic, that is when my bag went missing the first time, going to New York even if I wasn't traveling through that city.

Feels like my brain felt something was wrong. No luggage.

«Have you looked on the over-sized conveyor?» they ask me.

Sorry! When I said I lost an elephant, I really meant a backpack...

Time goes by. And my luggage is finally declared lost. The computer doesn't tell where it is. Because it's true that if they didn't have enough time to transfer my bag in Prague, four hours later, they probably didn't have time to enter the information in the computer.


By chance, all my valuables were in my hand luggage. But not my tooth brush. No clothes either.

The airline gave me an emergency kit made for women. (with no sexism intended)

Yeah! I got bleaching deodorant with woman perfume in it, a thing to have nice nails, a hairbrush, moisturizing cream, shampoo but no soap. And laundry soap (thanks, but you lost my clothes, so I won't need it) and cotton pieces to wash make-up from one's face. Oh, and an extra-large t-shirt and a toothbrush.

At the hostel where I'm staying (the excellent Goodnight Hostel), they confirm that they call regularly for lost luggages with TAP. Did I recommend not to take TAP?

Next morning, the staff call for me to know where the search is at. I hear them use the words puta and stupido. I let you translate.

Twelve hours after arrival, they still don't know where they lost my bag. But TAP believes it might be in Prague because it left Helsinki like it was meant to be.

Congrats for the deduction! I could have told you as I was getting out of the plane. It is as obvious as the nose in the face, like we say in french.

I had to go buy short pants, because Portugal with jeans is a little too hot. Money wasted.

In the evening, the company finally called to say they would deliver my luggage during the night. 

TAP? Never again... but the flight I booked already for Brazil.

Should have waited before booking with them again.

Karma and Airport

Helsinki

You know karma! You know how you say that when you spit in the wind, it's gonna come back on you... I like to believe the same principle applies to money you throw out of the windows. That one day, the wind is gonna bring it back, at least  part of it, in the house. We can always dream.

You remember that trip from Amman downtown to the airport, happy run that cost me 40 $JD because the driver didn't have change? Well, someone somewhere probably felt guilty I guess. Today, I went to Helsinki airport for free. Yes, free. Zero cent!

I had missed the bus I should have taken by 30 seconds. It just drove passed me while I was waiting to cross the street. Good news are the payment thing was broken. The driver decided it was free.

All in all, it means my taxi from Jordan now cost me 35 $JD. Still have to take three free buses and I'll find full satisfaction.

Airport

About the airport itself, it is well organized. We can print our boarding cards and luggage ID by ourselves. After, we could drop our luggage on the conveyer. The problem is that the place is too small and th queues are very long. But the idea is good.

On a security point of view, Finnish people installed two big tables where you can take your time to put your personnal belongings in the bins, before the queue. You take your computer out, liquids, take the belt off. When you're done, you go throught security. It keeps everybody from getting impatient behind the lady that forgot to take her perfume out of her purse and doesn't seem able to find it back.

The Helsinki airport also sells the best chocolate-cheese muffin with a chocolate truffle in the middle. Yeah, they cost a yearly income or something, because nothing is affordable when you take the plane. But it must be the value of the best muffins in the world.

In the end, I fly to Portugal in a couple of hours. According to my plans, if the brazilian consulate doesn't bother too much and accepts to give me an express visa, I would spend my birthday in one of the most southern point in Europe : Lagos or Sagres. With new sunglasses. Because I desintegrated, in spite of me, my authentic false Rayban, sunglasses number 4, I bought in Cambodia.

And if I have problems with the consulate? Options are still open. Argentina for sure. I was thinking of Peru, but a canadian governement alert says it's not a good idea. Bolivia wouldn't mind being a replacement destination. Only, the flights there are more expensive than from Rio, Buenos Aires or Lima.

Plan, again and again

Helsinki

I won't make anybody cry. That wasn't my intention. But traveling for six months, through discoveries and encounters, is a lot of planification as I go. A lot of decisions must be taken quickly, too quickly sometimes, and I must assume them no matter what. It gets tiring a little bit.

Visiting Baltic countries, wandering day after day from a city to another, means being alert for trains and bus schedules and to book hostels 24 hours in advance.

The problem is even bigger when week-ends come, in a season where everybody is traveling. In Helsinki, where everything is expensive, there is already not a lot of places to sleep. Except if you want to pay 50 euros for a more or less mediocre room.

So I decided to book flights for the next (and last) month, and to plan in a tighter way. Might be an error. Having bought already a very expensive flight from Lisbon to Rio de Janeiro, I need to get a visa for Brazil. Problem is I don't have the 10 working days most brazilian consulates demand. I thought it would be easier than asking for the chinese visa. There, at least, I needed no more than five days.

So I cross my fingers for an express visa service to fall from the sky. I checked for Helsinki. No express visa here...

If it doesn't work, I'll need to cancel my flight, which is not reassuring when you think I'm not sure I would be able to get any money back. The plan would then be to go to Argentina first and wish for very efficient border patrols in Foz de Iguazu, where I might get a visa in one day if I'm lucky. That is what the rumor says. I'm starting to consider the option of giving up on Brazil, but I hope I won't have to do that.

In the mean time, I got in Helsinki, Finland, in the morning ferry. I took that occasion to reunite with Tua, a Finnish girl I met in a dorm in China. Each time I see someone I met previously, we make the world smaller. It is crazy to think our first meeting was two months ago already. And the first thing she said when she saw me : "You lost weight!"

Must mean I'm getting thiner by the minute. Two months and she sees a difference.


Another sign of the time flying, I have torn my only pair of shorts. I bought a new one while falling for a new t-shirt. Bored of wearing the same two t-shirts all the time. In the same order of business, my almost non existing soles start showing how much I traveled, like that hole appearing on top of one of the shoes. My bag is, on his side, holding on with duct tape.

I'm trying not to buy anything new as I'm getting closer to my destination. We'll see if everything holds.

Tallinn's Gobelin

Tallinn

Tallinn is only two and a half hours from Tartu on a bus. Even if it's a capital, it is a small city.

Like in other Baltic countries, one will first visit the old town. Like in all other Baltic countries, students have started a free tour company to tell the story of some buildings, adding some anecdotes I believe might be exagerated.

Getting out of the fortifications, a small portion near the port is impressive by its strange and original architecture. I even saw one or two colleagues in this strange gorilla in a glass cage typing on a typewriter... We're talking about a fake gorilla of course.

National Park

The second day, I signed up for a visit in Lahemaa national park (traveller.ee). In Estonia, the notion of national park is not the same we have at home. One can build a house in there. Animals are protected, but the rules are not as strict as one can believe.

Still, in the same day, I saw what is left of a Soviet dam, a German palace, a traditionnal Estonian house, an observatory and a Soviet submarine station and a giant bog.

Since I was sharing a mini-van with an old couple who could barely speak english, I used the time to talk with the guide. He confirmed Estonians are considering themselves to be Finnish and they look at their neighbors when decision time comes. Despite numerous invasions in the past, the Estonians seem to look forward and, supported by NATO, they don't fear invaders.

And thanks Jesus, in Estonia, we can use Euros. It is cheaper than Finland, but I feel I'm heading more and more to the north when I look at the prices.

About the prices, souvenirs in the old town are litteraly scams. For a simple patch with the flag on it, they ask 14 euros... It is the price for two meals in exchange for a little piece of fabric. In Thailand, for that price, I probably could have gotten thirty.

In the end, the best memory will be that hostel where I decided to book,  The Purple Gobelin. I was the first one ever to sleep in the bed they gave me, because that place wasn't even open two weeks ago. I took a chance in choosing a place which hadn't proven anything yet, but I regret nothing.

Owner are well trained travelers who I could talk to for hours. In fact, they transformed two rooms of their appartement in dormitories. They are always there, ready to help, and they travel in the stories of their guests. The last night, the six clients they had, and the two owners, played poker until very late in the night... (I ranked second... Not too bad for a beginner)

That is also part of traveling.

Tartu, the student's paradise

I followed through with my plan. After two complete days in Latvia, I moved to Estonia. The capital, Tallinn, being in the North, I used the occasion to stop on the way.

After about four hours on a bus on the road from Riga to Saint-Petersburg, I stopped in Tartu, a student city in the south-east of Estonia.

Tartu

Being on the bus for a long time makes it hard to find a comfortable position, especially when an old lady takes all the available room. But it seems the antipathy was mutual because she asked if she could change place. And I could use the free wi-fi on the bus.

Tartu is a small town that feels so alive because of its citizens who, like in Sherbrooke, are mostly students. All the interesting sites are close together and it's easy to walk to most of them.

It is the most interesting way of visiting anyway. One of the good spots is behind the city hall, where you get a great view.

Highly recommanded by the guidebooks, the KGB cells museum is not really interesting, especially compared to the one in Vilnius, more shocking and authentic.

The botanic garden is worth the detour (the outdoor one is free) as is the promenade along the river, which crosses the heart of the city.

From the whole trip, that is probably the city where I would feel like moving to. I could live there. Probably like in the rest of Estonia.

But from a touristic point of view, one day, maybe two, is enough. And there are buses every 30 minutes to Tallinn, which means nobody needs to book. You go to the bus station, you ask, and hop, five minutes later, you're on the road.

*On the picture, the sculpture represents the sculptor himself, hand in hand with his son... but both of them are the same size.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless minde

Sigulda, Latvia

As planned, I'm moving fast in the Baltic countries. Fast in the sense that I only spend two or three days in each country. With the time I have and the attractions there is to see, it is probably enough.

I made my way to Latvia. My flight to Vilnius stopped in Riga but I didn't have time to visit the city at that point.

First impressions, the Latvian capital moves more than Lithuania's capital. We can feel the soul of the old town more, people smile more and socialize more. Despite its small size, Riga feels like a big town.

That said, I went around the old town in a few hours only. After, one must just contemplate to slow down. Well, with the eternal sun here in summer, you can easily get rid of the museums while they are open (between 10 AM and 6 PM) and spend the rest of the day walking the streets, until it gets dark, around 11 PM.

Yes, 11 PM. Which is enough to play some little tricks with your brain, because you feel like in an eternal afternoon.

Other than the old town, which looks like any other old town, Riga has at least 800 art nouveau buildings. Arts or architecture lovers can get lost as they wish by looking at every single wall.

In fact, what gives Latvia its particular side is probably its quest for an identity. Refusing to identify with Russia or its two other neighbors, Estonia (Finnish wannabe) and Lithuania (Polish wannabe), according to my guide, Latvians might not have found their inner me, but they still can differenciate themselves from the others.

In Riga, I asked what other town was worth visiting. I chose Cape Kolka and Cesis, trusting my Lonely Planet. In my hostel, I was told not to go there, saying Sigulda is better, one hour on the train from the capital.

I got there and the city is really charming. It's  a mix of the city and the countryside. It offers the possibility to walk in streets surrounded by trees to reach some castle ruins and grottos.

The most adventurous might want to bungee jump from the lift across the river or ride a true bobsleigh. I ran out of time for the second option.

Note that latvian currency, the lats, is very strong (twice the canadien dollar). One must be careful when the prices seem low.

Worth mentionning, the Occupation Museum. We don't hear enough about the problems the Baltic countries faced.

I'm moving on tomorrow to Tartu in Estonia before heading to the capital Tallinn. From there, I should take the ferry to Helsinki in Finland. Looking at my schedule, I'm not sure I can see more of this part of Europe. I will need to think about flying to Portugal, where I might have to wait for awhile to get a visa for Brazil.

One thing is for sure, I must make my way to my original time zone. I bought my flight home and I intend to leave from Habana on August 15th.