I am in Chuy or Chui

October 11^th, 2011:  I continue to extend my track record on fumbling another border crossing.  As in Paraguay months ago…the bus once again passed immigration without stopping.   The countries are separated by only a busy street…one side being Chuy, Uruguay and the other side being Chui, Brazil.    There was nobody standing in a tower of supremacy with the mirrored aviator sunglasses and a shotgun overlooking a tall wall resembling that of Israel or the US Border in which only superman can leap in a single bound or a Mexican jumping bean.
 
I didn’t understand the border crossing till now, as I write this.  It wasn’t until I bought my bus ticket to travel to Porto Alegre in Brazil when the woman at the ticket booth looked at my passport and told me that I needed to get an exit stamp.  “Huh?” I thought.  I didn’t even notice passing a border crossing.  She pointed at what direction I needed to start walking as I shuffled out of the building beginning my couple kilometer journey to get that magical exit stamp. 

Walking through the city, I made it to a road leading out of town looking as if it was leading to nowhere.  Eventually there was nothing but flat lands finally taking me to the friendly immigration troll.  Opening my passport, I don’t even think he looked at it – I could have pasted a photo of Mickey Mouse over my stellar photo and he would have still stamped it.
 
Confused about what country I was in, I ended up buying my bus ticket in Brazil and didn’t even know it – explaining why I didn’t know about the time change.  I stood outside an empty building waiting for my bus to arrive at any given moment as my big backpack lay safely locked up inside, hoping someone was going to open up the office.  Thankfully, I gained an hour instead of lost an hour.

Yes, I continue to dislike border crossings, especially when there are no truly defined borders.