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I love travel stories but my wife is tired of hearing mine so I hope you don’t mind..
The blog is a 14-minute read but if you don’t feel like reading use the audio player below and listen to the story.
“To set the stage, this story takes place in Argentina and involves a little bit of robbery, emergency passports and a tri-country border crossing.”
I had been travelling in Argentina for about 6 months at this point and I was travelling with a good friend from back home. We were travelling slow and really trying to enjoy the country. We had rented an apartment in Cordoba and went to Spanish school where my friend became fluent and I didn’t.
Despite having a crush on my Spanish teach I dropped out and spent my days wandering the back streets and drinking coffee in the plazas.
One of these afternoons I bought sausage out of a suite case from a guy on a street corner and spent the next 3 days with the worst food poisoning of my life. But aside from this Argentina had treated us extremely well.
We had rock climbed in the Sierras and explored the southern part of the country from the mountain town of Bariloche and met some truly amazing travellers that made an impact on me even to this day.
For a bit of a side story, we had such a good time in Bariloche that my travel partner met and fell in love with a local from the town that we had met on Halloween and ended up staying. I personally think it had a lot to do with me and my Irish friend Dave serenading their table with an Enrique Iglesias song in Spanish but we’ll never know for sure.
“This side story didn’t end their though and my friend fell madly in love and within the next year they would go on to have children together while on a conjugal visit in prison but that’s not my story to tell…”
At this point in the trip I decided to make my way back up North as my best friend from childhood was actually in port for a few days, working for a cruise line and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see him in Buenos Aires.
For those of you who haven’t been to Buenos Aires, it is an extremely cool city.
There is no shortage of things to do from football games at La Bombonera to absolutely wild nightlife, colonial architecture and the combination of Latin and European vibes that make this city an absolute must visit while in South America.
The morning of this adventure was one of those annoying travel days, we had been forced to check out of the cheap hostel we were in and were moving across the city to a new hostel.
With checkout in the morning, we had a couple of hours to kill before we could get into our next place.
We were true budget backpackers at this point and our backpacks consisted of dirty clothes and a camera and nothing of real value.
It was the early 2000’s and no travellers had smartphones or laptops. We packed up that morning and we headed downstairs to find a cafe to waste some time in.
There are no shortages of street side cafes on the wide boulevards of Buenos Aires.
These basic cafes are dotted along the streets. Waiters and waitresses navigate the busy sidewalks with coffee and pastries like a game of Frogger. The city has this old world European charm but with the added energy of Latin culture.
“Old men sit with newspapers sipping espresso and have animated conversations about the ever-changing political situation of the country.
That feeling of being a silent observer in a foreign country while the locals go about their daily business has always been a travel moment that I enjoy.”
We settled at one of the first cafes we found and took off our packs. We had been warned and heard multiple traveller accounts of theft and robbery in Argentina and South America in general so we were certainly aware that we were a potential target, but we had also had a great trip and met so many wonderful people that we were likely a little less paranoid than we should have been.
To that end I picked the seat closer to the street and had a full view of the sidewalk and the comings and goings. I tucked my bag under my seat along with my small day bag which had my passport and camera etc. To my credit, I had put the chair leg through the strap so that it couldn’t just be snatched.
It was a weekday morning and it had the early morning energy of a city with 16 million awakening and heading to work.
We sat and chatted and waited for our coffee to arrive, we hadn’t been there that long but long enough that a few people had noticed.
Two men approached our table and started to talk extremely loudly then a third from our left started to yell, suddenly one of the men unfolded a really large map and laid it out across our table and with wild hand gestures started pointing to the map and speaking loudly. This all happened extremely quickly in the span of 10 seconds.
“I remember looking down at the map and it was a map of Chile, and then time slowed and the feeling of being scammed seemed so obvious.”
I pushed the map away and looked under my chair and my day bag was gone, I felt a cold sweat wash over me and then stood up quickly as I did this, I yelled at my friends that we were being robbed. They checked and their bags were still there, I grabbed one of the men by the shirt but neither of them had the bag.
I really can’t describe just how confusing and quickly this all happened.
This had also brought the area around the cafe to a standstill and there were people all trying to figure out what had happened. I was embarrassed and mad and just kept thinking that my passport was gone and couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
I had to be in Rio de Janeiro to pick up my parents and sister in a couple of weeks which was over 2700 km’s away, f*ck.
Somehow in the confusion I had let go of the older man and they had faded away into the crowd.
I didn’t know what to do but I kicked off my flip-flops and just started sprinting in a direction I guessed the guy may have gone.
My day bag had some bright yellow on it and I just kept running and hoping to catch a glimpse of the bag, I knew it was stupid but I just wanted to somehow get my passport back.
I can only imagine what I looked like, a blonde-haired,bare footed foreigner sprinting through the streets with a frantic look desperately trying to find a bag in a city of 16 million.
I must have ran for 20 minutes, checking back alleys and garbage cans to see if they maybe ditched the bag but no luck. It was hopeless and I knew it.
I arrived back to the cafe, things had calmed down and my friends were sitting there worriedly drinking their coffee. I slumped down in my chair, coming to the realization that I now had no passport. For a little context this was not my first issue with passports over the last 10 years of travel and the Canadian government was getting less and less eager to help with every issue.
My best friend (who was with me right now) had thrown my passport in the wash when we lived in Manly Beach, Australia and I travelled with that ridiculously damaged passport for years which made border crossings stressful. I lost another when me and a friend rented CBR motorbikes for a road trip across Thailand so losing this latest one I knew was going to a bigger issue.
As we sat at the table an older man motioned for me to come to his table. Then in a combination of Spanish and broken English he told me what actually happened.
“While the two men shouted and waved the maps at us, two men in a taxi pulled up behind us while one got out, cut the strap and took my bag. It was all done in seconds, and the taxi pulled back into a sea of other cars and taxis and was gone.”
I thought I might as well go to a police station and tell them what happened but it was clear that this was not high on their priority list.
We checked into our next hostel and then I set off across town to find the Canadian Consulate. During my taxi ride to the consulate, it also dawned on me that the Brazilian visa I had was also gone with the passport so I had no way even with a new passport to get to Brazil.
The next few hrs were spent at the consulate going over what happened and explaining and apologizing for my other lost passports. I was told that they could get me an emergency passport in about a week.
With that knowledge in hand, I had to figure out a way to get a to get my passport then somehow get a Brazilian entry visa and then get to Rio which was a few thousand km’s away. Flying wasn’t an option with my bank account given I had just paid an exorbitant amount to the consulate to replace my passport. I also needed to do this without letting my family know back home and stressing them out.
I laid pretty low for the next few days and researched ways to get this all done and it was feeling pretty hopeless. The Brazilian consulate couldn’t turn the visa around in any sort of timeline that would work for me to make it to Rio and I couldn’t apply until I had the new passport. In the meantime, I had a call with my parents saying how I couldn’t wait to see them in Rio.
As luck would have it I had connected with some friends we had met in Bariloche an abosute legendary couple of guys. We spent the next few days drinking too much and having a blast during the evenings in Buenos Aires. One of those heavy drinking nights I was speaking to an Israel traveller and he told me that the tri-border crossing at Iguazu was the only Brazilian border that would do same-day visas and all of a sudden I had a chance to pull this off.
The next morning I received word from the consulate that my passport was ready. I immediately went and picked it up. I don’t know if you know what an emergency passport looks like but it’s bright white and only has two pages. It causes nothing but issues at the border and only allows you to travel for a short period before you have to return back to Canada. I had convinced the consulate to allow me 6 months to get back home. I figured if I make it to Brazil, I’m not missing Carnival.
With my passport in hand I headed back to my hostel and over beers that evening my friends and I made the plan to all head to Iguazu falls which is the tri-border crossing with Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. It was an 8 hr and 700 km detour for me by bus but it was my only shot at a quick entry visa.
What’s crazy when I reflect back, is I never verified the one-day visa was actually a real thing, my Israel drinking partner told me they did it and based on that I bought a bus ticket for a 700km journey.
Fast forward 48 hrs and we were off the bus and at the border. It’s an interesting part of the world as you have three countries that connect via the falls. The falls are amazing and a sight to behold but all I wanted was to figure out if I could get across the border or not and it was hard to really care. After a quick visit to the falls where we got absolutely soaked we hired a minibus taxi to drive us and a few other travellers to the Brazilian border.
I have crossed dozens and dozens of borders in my life and they always give me anxiety. The same feeling you get when you see police and you know you havent done anything wrong but the anxiety is there like you are carrying a kilo of cocaine and you are about to go to jail.
My turn finally came up and I explained that I needed a visa. The border guard took my shiny white passport and just looked at me like what is this? He turned to his colleagues and rambled something quickly off in Portuguese. I explained I was flying out of Rio and just needed to get there.
He handed my passport to his collegue and them sternly told me to follow them. As I walked with the guards toward a small room, my anxiety was starting to peak.
“Foreign Borders always feel like a place that can swallow you up and make you disappear, they are this weird no man’s land where you have left one country but aren’t quite in the next one and they feel a little lawless.
Border guards are often stern and relish their roles and I think they often know that the travellers they are dealing with are nervous.
I sat in this small room on a metal chair and stared at the wall and then another guard came in and took my backpack and laid it out on the table. He just turned and looked at me and the unzipped the side of may bag. The sound of the zipper felt so loud in that tiny room. I knew all I had in the bag was dirty clothes but your mind won’t confirm that for fact when your at the border and watching someone search it. As he dug through my bag, I envisioned him finding drugs and was already wondering what a Brazilian jail would be like.
We were interrupted by another guard who came in holding my passport. He said something in Portugese and then both men looked at me. I know it probably wasn’t like this but it felt like it was just dead silent and we just stared at each other no one saying a word for like 5 seconds. Then he threw my passport on the table and said “Visa” and left. I was alone in the room and jumped up and grabbed the passport, flipped It open and there it was, a brand new Brazilan visa. I can’t believe it all worked. I jammed my clothes back in my bag and left the room and found my friends outside waiting by the minibus. We all, high-fived and excitedly jumped back in the bus.
I still had 4 days to get to Rio at this point and felt flush with time. The two guys I was travelling with were headed to the beach town of Florinapoliis and I decided that I should probably join them.
Florianopolis is on the Southern East coast of Brazil and is very beautiful. The bridge connects the city to Santa Catarina which is dotted with great beaches. We stayed at a cheap little hostel met some great travellers and for the next few days played soccer on the beach and enjoyed a bit too much of the nightlife. Florinapolois is a bit of a blur when looking back but I do remember how beautiful it was and the amazing people we met. While I’m sure its changed since 2007 I’m confident that’s still as beautiful and fun as it was back then.
During our time in Florinpololis, we all decided that we have to find a way to meet up for Carnival. I was picking up my family in Rio and then driving to Bahia and the city of Salvador where my family had rented a place. We decided that we would all meet up there and I would secure us an apartment somewhere on the Carnival route. The Salvador Carnival is one of the world’s biggest street parties and is an adventure all to itself that we couldn’t pass up.
I still had a 16 hr bus ride ahead of me to cover the 1200 km distance between Florinpolois and Rio so I bid farewell to my friends and we all looked forward to catching up in Salvador in a few months.
After a bus breakdown on the way to Rio, I was really cutting short on time to make it to the airport to pick up my family. I finally made it early in the morning and headed straight to the airport. I hadn’t been able to check my email at an internet cafe but knew my parents had left Canada at his point and were due to land in a few hrs. I arrived at the airport with very little sleep.
It had only been 2 weeks since we were robbed in Buenos Aires but it had been a busy couple of weeks. I had dealt with the consulate and received my new emergency passport, travelled 700km’s in the wrong direction to cross the border at Iguazu , partied Florinplous and then spent what was supposed to be 16 hrs on the bus but tired into over 20 hrs. I had covered over 2700kms by bus and literally arrived at the airport with an hour to spare. I was tired but I did it and I was super excited to see my family.
I was now at the arrivals hall and standing behind the metal barriers shoulder to shoulder with others doing the same and watching weary travellers push their luggage, after a long international flight.
You do that awkward dance on your tippy toes, and kind of half smile as you try and spot your loved ones in the crowd. Its weird as its like you forget what your people look like and you start half spotting them in the crowd.
People come and go and you watch families hug and laughter erupt from different pockets of the crowd. Slowly the herd of travellers starts to thin out and you realize that your people might not be coming but you keep waiting because you don’t know what else to do.
I kept looking at the time and realizing that something was wrong. The doors re-opened and more people started to arrive but the demogapic had changed and it was clear this wasn’t a flight from Canada and either I had messed up the time or flights or my family had an issue while en route.
I finally found a pay terminal which allowed internet access and checked my email and there it was. My parents connecting flight was late and they missed the flight to Rio and would be 24 hrs behind.
How ironic I thought, I had just raced across Argentina and Brazil just to arrive and have them not make it.
I headed back into Rio to grab a bed for the night and the next morning I picked up my family and all was well.
My family is no stranger to adventure and this is the reason that I fell in love with travel. My parents have travelled since their early 20s in the 1970’s and continue to do so.
“When I was between the ages of 4-6 we lived in a bright yellow Volkswagen pop-top van and travelled throughout Central America.”
That trip installed a deep love of travel and other cultures and I am forever grateful that they made travel and adventure a priority in their life and mine. My family never took vacations, it was always a trip and focussed on travel and I think there is a real difference between going on a vacation and really seeing a country. When my parents retired from their business they moved to a slum community in India and have been running a small non-profit for the last decade. I look forward to sharing their stories on a podcast/blog in the future.
Our family trip in Brazil was anything but tame and was a real adventure. The morning I picked them up at the Rio airport, the rental car agency went over how to escape car jackings and all the dangers in Rio and driving across Brazil. Our plan was to drive from Rio to Salvador which was about 1700 km’s. The young guys at the rental car agency had little faith in us and it was obvious. My parents who has passed the value-oriented gene (cheap) had rented the smallest little hatchback with what I’m guessing was a 2-cylinder engine akin to a 4-door lawnmower.
Our road trip is a story all to its own but had several near-death road instances including washed out roads and hotels with no guests or power. The arrival in Salavador was just as weird. We had rented a home via a Brazilian website like VRBO/AIRBN, Airbnb hadn’t been founded at this point so it was still a little dodgy. We were worried it was a scam but it was too late ( we had suffered through an accommodation scam in Hawaii a few years before). Our instructions were to meet a lady on the steps of the Church of Nossa Senhora do Rosário dos Pretos or more simply the Blue Church.
A little road wary we all sat waiting for this lady to arrive but sure enough she did and a sense of relief washed over our family as she handed my mom and me the keys.
We were super excited to see the home which from the photos looked really cool and honestly it was. The one thing we didn’t expect was for the entire home to be decorated with dicks.
Yes, you heard that right. Penis was a central theme through out the property from penis-shaped banisters to artwork to the towel racks. Subtle little penises were found throughout the property. While it was funny, it wasn’t exactly the relaxing home my Dad was picturing.
Dick decor or not we had an amazing time in Brazil and Salvador a wildly interesting city.
I stayed on after my family left and moved into a one-bedroom apartment along the Carnival parade route where several fellow travellers I had met over the last 6 months were due to join me. Without going into detail now, Carnival in Salvador was an experience to say the least and was overwhelming, fun, intense and sometimes downright terrifying but I’m extremely happy I got to experience it.
And honestly that sums up travel. I’m not advocating putting your family or yourself in obviously dangerous situations but if you’re not putting yourself in uncomfortable situations and coming back from a trip having experienced nothing out of the ordinary that opened your eyes to something new then you need to adjust how you are taking your trips because your missing out.
Travel and how we travel is different to everyone and there is no right way to do it but the experiences in between the destinations are often where the adventure lies and the more open you are to having these experiences and going left when every tourist is going right you might just find yourself in teh centre of amazing travel story.
Life truly is better with adventure.
If you have made it the end of this post, I I really do appreciate it.
I love taking about travel and adventure and would love to hear your story. So if you or your friend has a interesting story, let’s connect and get it out to the world.
If you enjoyed this story but don’t want to repeat my mistakes, then you should buy a passport belt clip or fanny pack. If I had something like this in Buenos Aires, I still would have lost my bag but not my passport and believe me it’s not worth the story…