this is the story all about how...part three...this is getting longer than expected...

And Friday morning, we arrived on the other side. We had exactly 1 1/2 hours to get to the embassy, plead our case and get our visas, hoping to fly out that day.

After hopping off the plane, we jumped on the train and briskly walked to St. Martin's Place in Sydney. Home of the consulates, and the fountain from the Matrix.

We took the elevator to floor seven, whipped out our official paperwork and invitation from an NGO and they looked at the paperwork and said "No, we cannot issue your visas, you are not Australian citizens. You need to apply from your countries." Not having come all that way to hear that, we said "Is there someone else we can talk to?" We arranged our meeting with the Consular General for two hours later.

We went to Hyde Park, chilled out, finished our airplane snacks, spent time with J*sus and then stormed the heavens together. Before we knew it, we were back in the office of the only person who stood between us and the flood relief victims. He was clothed in a suit that would have paid for both of our airfare, had the physique of a cricketer and had adorned his coffee table with a photo of him shaking hands with George Bush. He seemed important. And as we pleaded our case...without any warm fuzzies, he gave us some new info..."No one wants to be responsible for your ladies' lives. If I stamp your passports and something happens to you, I am in trouble." (This was the first of many insights into the instability of the nation. Everyone is afraid to mess up, no one wants to be responsible and actually it is quite unsafe for westerners, especially Americans--because we threaten to burn qur'ans, etc.) And then we basically asked, "what can we do to make this happen?" and he said "Get me a letter that endorses your NGO and takes responsibility for you from a government official and as soon as I receive that, I will give them to you. I will be here until 5 pm, and if it comes in before then, no problem, I will give them to you."

We made some more phone calls, found out that there had been a stabbing of a political figure who had taken political assylum in London and that things were potentially moving towards a declared 10 days mourning. This also meant that we would be delayed in getting our letter. Our contact in the UK was confident that it was possible though, we knew what we needed and now all we needed was time and we would get our visa.

And me? I was discouraged, tired and wanted to crawl under the lounge in the waiting room and fall into a deep sleep of hybernation. But Emily was right there, speaking truth, telling me that we knew what needed to happen, but we needed time and hey, we get the weekend in Sydney. A little bit earlier she had gone to the store while I had made some phone calls and in that time she had bought some sustenance. That was the best time ever to be surprised with a roll of sushi and a mini fish full of soy sauce. We toasted for what was to come. We remained in the lobby of this large commercial building there for the next couple hours, decompressing, downing hummus and listening to a man snore who was on the couch next to us. At one point the consular general walked past us and with a hint of soft heartedness said "Hey, if your letter comes this weekend, give me a ring." We smiled at each other, hopeful for this kind glimmer, even though we didn't have his number.

So a little more settled, Emily and I started to consider the fact that it was approaching 7pm and we had no place to stay and we were going to be in Sydney until Monday.

Alas, we live in a massive community where everyone seems to know someone, we were connected to some very kind people, now dear friends, that allowed us to stay at their flats, fed us to no end, showed us around and sent us out from Sydney after making us a priority all weekend. We love you Marcia and Jacob! Did you know there is a large Japanese population in Brazil? I never knew...

Onto part four...