So tomorrow night I step onto the plane here in Miami and return to Rio. Hopefully my tourist visa will let me in with no problems, and I’ll be settled in by the time of the Portugal/Germany game.
I have a lot of mixed emotions about returning – I’m excited, but nervous – ready to move on and actuallly be moving in a direction instead of just waiting in limbo, but also apprehensive about relationships. How hard will it be to pick up those relationships with kids on the street? Because they are such a transient population, how many of them will even be around and remember me?
But, Lord willing, next time you hear from me I’ll be in Rio after a nice long day at the beach – or on the streets – or in the favelas… And if not, then I’m cool with that.
I keep being reminded that if God wants me in Brazil, he can make it work out. There’s nothing else I can do. I’ve exhausted every option. And if he doesn’t work it out, then he obviously has something else he’s working on. I just want to have my eyes open to see it, whatver it might be… and on that note, good-night internets, and bom dia cariocas.
In other assorted random news, I am now pulling for Italy in the final match. However, my track record for teams I’ve been pulling for hasn’t been so good. Spain, Brazil, Portugal… all lost. All beaten by France. Argentina? Lost. And Italy’s been playing some mighty pretty futbol… Good defence. Some pretty goals. A bit of the theatrical. And I like pizza and spaghetti and Roma and St. Peter’s Cathedral and Napoli and good ol’ Lamezia way down in the south… So let’s go Azzurri… forza italia…