If you have never had to get a VISA you will probably not know what you are in for...I had several options to obtain a Visa for Brasil. However, since the alloted time starts counting down from when the Visa is issued it was reasonable to try to obtain it as near to my entry date as possible. Perhaps that thought process was flawed...My first option for a Brasil Visa was in La Paz. I discounted La Paz because I was there, easily a month in advance of when I needed the Visa. I moved on.

My next option was Santa Cruz. I was there on a weekend, and it was still early so I erased that option. My book said I could obtain one in Sucre. Sucre was on my travel plan.

In Sucre I approached the Embassy but I was saddened to hear that they did not issue Visas. They were not allowed to do that type of work. The man assured me I could get a Visa in Salta, Argentina.

Salta was a couple thousand kilometers away, but I was heading that way so I was not alarmed. In Salta the Embassy had the same story as Sucre. They were not allowed to issue Visas. Doesn´t anybody know who does what anymore?

I emailed the Consulate in Buenos Aires. They assured me Cordoba could issue a Visa if I did not want to go to Buenos Aires. Cordoba was a thousand kilometers to the south. What the hell. I was going that way anyway. I might as well go to Ushuaia, now that I am here.

I checked the phone book. Yes, the Consulate was listed. I was very certain this would be the end of my quest.

For those who have not had the exerience, getting a Visa can be a challenge at the best of times. Down here in Cordoba it tested more than your patience.

The address was in the phone book. I copied it down and located it on the street map...615 Ave. A. Almos. Mistake #I overlooked the A. I went straight to Almos. I followed it as far as it went. There was no #615. The neighbourhood became rougher. This was not a Consular area.

I asked a man passing by. "You must go the other way...about fifteen blocks." Had I gone the wrong way? I couldn´t believe it. I turned around and walked back...I counted the numbers down. At #0 the street name changed to Colon. I was befuddled.

I asked the man at the kiosk. "You must go the other way, fifteen blocks," was his answer. "I just came from there. The number doesn´t exist." He shrugged his shoulders.

A delivery man walked in. I asked him. He looked at the address for a minute and then said, "Oh, that´s A. Almos. That´s about twenty blocks away, that way. I had wasted two precious hours. I hailed a cab.

The neighbourhoods changed. It didn´t look promising, but then suddenly there was the Brasilian Flag hanging over the door. The mirrored glass prevented me from seeing in, but as I approached the door opened.

"Yes?" the magnum packing guard queried. "
I need a Visa to visit your country." I wasn´t even sure if they could issue one. I was testing the waters.
"These are the requirements. Do you have all of the necessary information?"
I nodded in approval. He went to get an Agent.

The needs of the Agent were slightly different than those listed on the posting.

1. Passport (Check)
2. Passport Photo (Check)
3. Title for the Moto (NO!, at the hotel)
4. Photocopy of the Passport and Title (NO!, at the hotel)
5. Copy of Bank Statement showing I could afford to visit their country...no deadbeats allowed (this one bothered me)
6. Completed Application Form.

"Do you have all of the above?"
"Not with me."
"When you have it come back and see me."
"What time do you close?"
"1 PM."
"How long does it take?"
"Three days."

It was 11AM on Monday. I had two hours or I would waste a day. I did not want to spend more than 3 days doing this. If I ran into the weekend I would be here for over a week. I had to get it started today.

Out on the street I hailed a cab and headed for the hotel. There I gathered up my paperwork and went to find an Internet Cafe. I wasn´t sure I could pull a Bank Statement off of the internet, since I had not set that up before I left, but I had to try. An ATM receipt was not adequate.

I signed in, created an account and retrieved the balance. The amount was less than I had expected. Sandra had not transferred the money yet. Would it be sufficient?

I printed it off and hailed another cab. Back at the Consulate I greeted the guard once again. He hailed the Agent and I passed the documents across. He verified my Original Title against the copy. The same for the Passport. Then he looked at my Bank Statement.

"How long do you want?"
"90 days."
"This may not be enough. I have to divide the total by $80 per day. I can only give you that much time."
"I am transferring money today," I said.
"Show me the statement when you come back."
"OK."

He handed everything back to me. I looked puzzled. Why did he hand it back?

"You must take this form to the CitiBank and pay 139 ARG Pesos. Bring back a stamped receipt and then I will start the Application Process."

My heart sank. I looked at my watch. It was 12:00 Noon.

"Where is the bank? Close to here!"
"No, it is downtown on the Plaza."
"Where, on the Plaza."
"I don´t know. It is there. All of the banks are there."

Why didn´t you tell me this before, I fumed to myself. I was just there.

I hailed a cab. The streets were packed. Lunch break was in effect. Gridlock reigned supreme.

I paid the cab and jumped out to walk the last 4 blocks. It was quicker. There were at least 100 banks in and around the Plaza, but no CitiBank.

I stopped and asked directions. The man with the cell phone thought for a moment, turned this way and that, peering up and down the streets.

"Go left for 2 blocks. It is there."
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure."

I walked two blocks. Nothing. The clock was ticking. The sidewalks were packed. There was a mass of humanity everywhere.

I asked again.
"Go back to the Plaza and turn left. Go one block. It is there."
I headed out. A few minutes later...no bank. I walked further.
I asked again. A businessman with a briefcase.
"Go back one block and turn right."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I was just there I thought to myself. Could I have missed it. Reluctantly I headed back. I had covered half a block when I heard a voice behind me. It was the businessman. Initially we had been walking in opposite directions, but he realized he had given me the wrong directions. He had turned around and chased me to correct his error. INCREDIBLE! SIMPLY INCREDIBLE! Who in this world would do such a thing? Only a human being with a conscience. Now there were two of us...not many in 6 billion people.

His new directions were correct.

The line-ups were long. It was well passed noon. I waited patiently, I paid my dues, I collected my receipt and headed for the street. It was 12:25.

There are 1.5 million people in Cordoba and 2 millions cabs. Every one was full. People were fighting one another for a cab. I joined the fray. "I'll pay double," I shouted above the din. I waved a fist-full of dollars, reminiscent of a scene that had played out in another country and another land twelve years ago.

In the company of Ole and Garry, we had been in Dubai on a business venture. It was time to return to our hotel. I suggested we walk back. The hotel was but a distant glimmer on the horizon. Ole had had enough. He raced out into the street brandishing his money. "Here, take it all. I don't care what it costs. I am not walking back to the hotel!!" Gales of hysterical laughter followed this event and persisted for days, whenever we re-lived the scene.

I had a cab. We bumped along. Mostly we didn't do anything in the near gridlock conditions. At 12:49 I asked the driver how much further it was.

"Not far."
"The Consulate closes at 1PM."
He glanced at his watch. He was not impressed. His non-committment to the program was his signal. You see, he lived here. He was on the streets everyday. Today was the same as yesterday...yesterday the same as tomorrow.
He simply said, "It's Monday."

At 12:54 the mirrored door to the Consulate opened and I walked in. The guard looked at his watch and smiled.

The Agent too, smiled when he saw me. "You made it," was all he said.
I filled out the Application Form and slid it under the opening.
"Come back at 12:00 Noon on Thursday."

I was frazzled. What a lot of commotion. It could easily have been reduced to a few organized steps. But, of course that is not their business. They play a game. They are in control of your life for but an instant and they play the game out to the end. They give you one piece of information at a time so you have to make 10 trips instead of two. But, I had made it. I had beat their odds. Barring the unforseen, Thursday should be a good day.

I hailed a cab. Three blocks away we were gridlocked. I got out and walked. I needed a double ice cream...