So we arrived in Brazil. Three weeks on Europa was three weeks I’ll always remember, mostly for the right reasons. If you’re not moved by the idea of helping to crew a ship of such stunning beauty and grace, you must have the emotional range of yer average serial killer.
I’ve been travelling for seven weeks now, with seven or eight to go before I return home. I have grown a full beard – initially for a joke, but now I’m being urged to keep it. I have a nice deep tan. And I’ve got enough narrative twists and turns to get my next book onto the thriller shelves rather than travel or food and drink.
Whatever you do in life, never try to import a keg of beer into Brazil on a short time scale. As we speak, a friend of mine is picking up Barry’s replacement – Kevin the keg – and bringing him out as personal luggage. That was all fine until I checked the details of my onward journey, and discovered that my container ship – due to leave Rio on Wednesday – actually now leaves tomorrow, and I have to be on board a mere three hours after Jeff (and Kevin) are due to land at the airport.
The future of this voyage rests on some luck with customs, and is going to be a photo finish.