It was all coming back to me: that time-warped feeling of long haul flights, the airport limbo zone and the warm wall of humidity you hit at the Brazilian exit. Having lived in Brazil for five years, I’d made this trip countless times, but this time it was with a different mission. With a huge case full of what looked like objects sold by Toys ‘R’ Us nestled between highly dangerous metal boxes, I was relieved to see that my very expensive set of loaned music equipment had neither been queried nor destroyed by a bomb disposal robot. I breathed a sigh of relief and jumped into a white taxi.
