Last night, Reece's camera got stolen. Later, this happened:
Way to turn things around, I'd say.
So, we always knew it would happen sooner or later. I guess for some reason I just didn't think it'd be quite SO soon. We had even perfected the pocket decoy, where Reece carries an empty beer can in his front pocket, concealing the camera and keeping it snuggly buried below.
Last night, we dropped the ball. Perhaps it was the sheer excitement as we approached the Sambadrome, home of THE infamous Carnival parades. Maybe it was the five sake bombs we did before we left the house. Whatever it was, within moments of stepping out of the cab, Reece looked at me with a stunned stare and said flatly, "My camera just got stolen."
He was so surprisingly calm about it, that it took me a solid five minutes to believe that he wasn't kidding. Moments later, Reece caught a second guy sneaking his grubby hands into his pocket. So this is the Rio everyone warns you about.
We debated briefly whether we still wanted to try to get in. It seemed like a real shame to drop a ton of cash for scalped tickets to a spectacle that we couldn't photograph. Many would disagree with my point of view, but I really didn't want to bother at that point. We could always come back tomorrow with our crappy back-up camera. We decided to head back to the apartment to contact our insurance company and collect ourselves for a bit.
STA Travel let us know that they require a police report in order to open a claim. Luckily there is a station around the corner from our apartment. Unluckily, Portuguese is SO FUCKING DIFFICULT to understand, we worried about the logistics of pulling off the task. One of us had the bright idea to look up the translation for the following phrase online, and write it in a note for the officers.
"My camera has been stolen. I need a police report for my insurance company."
Donned in Carnival glitter and ribbons, we walked to the station, only to learn that there is a special "tourist" station on the other end of town where such matters are attended to. We were able to communicate with one friendly officer who spoke a little bit of Spanish, and explained that he would drive us to the other station. Climbing into the back of his cop car, I was more upset than ever that we didn't have a camera to capture the moment.
After some discussion with his partner, he informed us that the station would be way too busy at that time (I'll bet), we'd likely be waiting for hours, and we'd be better off getting some sleep and coming back the following day. Works for me.
Back at home, Reece and I decided we weren't going to let this little fiasco ruin our night. Cranking some music and polishing off every remaining drop alcohol in our fridge, we had our own Carnival parade. Before long, we noticed it was starting to get light out. Quite a feat, considering Reece hates the idea of staying up late enough to watch night turn to day. We abruptly decided to run to the beach and catch the sunrise (crappy back-up camera in hand).
It was gorgeous. It was envigorating. It was possibly the best moment we have had on this trip yet. We frolicked in the sand (yup, I said frolicked). We splashed in the waves. We managed to capture a really unusual burst of light surrounding the sun that was only visible in photos. Maybe Crappy Cam isn't so bad after all.