7am: wake-up and packing.
10am: like my girl Rihanna says: work work work work work.
3pm: streetcar named desire.
4pm: Brexit Airways check-in.
6pm: Amsterdam - London, followed by a 4-hour long layover.
11pm: London - São Paulo. By the time I'm boarding the second flight, sick and tired of the trip already.
During the flight itself though, the pros outnumber the cons: "Deadpool" - epic, "Serena" - revealing, being offered an English breakfast in the middle of the night - hilarious, sleep deprivation combined with your spine shaped like a pretzel - sub-optimal.
11am: it is now officially both 10am and 5am inside my head, just in time for... drumroll... an 8-hour layover. Now I finally understand why they have a museum and a freakin' park at Schiphol. At Guarulhos, they offer a lengthy immigration procedure followed by some juice shops and decent WiFi, so that'll do nicely.
7pm: São Paulo - Iguazu Falls
8pm: this place is so jawdroppingly beautiful and feels so incredibly remote! The airport seems so deserted it positively reminds me of Lord Howe Island.
The taxi driver could beat Sébastien Loeb any day of the week, the check-in procedure in my cute jungle hostel takes approximately 15 seconds, by 8:45 I'm already showered and should probably lie down and relax for a longer while.
9pm: screw that, I'm walking inside the Iguaçu National Park already! Shut up legs, don't stop me know!
11pm: after two hours of alternately shaking my head and giggling at how mother nature even came up with anything so magnificent in the first place, time for the money shot: sunset panorama!
2am: I hope it's somewhat understandable I collapse shortly before Vanderlei de Lima gets the chance to light the Olympic cauldron.
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