“I’m gonna grab a Coke at the gas station.”
“I’m going to see if I can get the vaccine. Meet you at the Havaianas store?”
The scene didn’t get more Brazilian than this.
The three of us, sandy feet, in our Havaianas, swimsuits under my dress and a T-shirt for the guys, stopping for drinks at the multipurpose Ipiranga posto—technically a gas station, but really a one-stop shop for cold drinks, coffee, snacks, cigarettes, booze, and basic life essentials. You name it, they have it.
And me, casually popping into the pharmacy next door to see if I could get vaccinated—no appointment—on a stormy Monday evening.
The flu?
COVID?
Nope. I’m upping my game—yellow fever.
“Tem a vacina da febre amarela?”
“Tem. Tem CPF?”
Of course they have it. And of course the very next question is whether I have this magic number that unlocks all things Brazilian.
And of course, I do.
“Pode digitar.”
I typed my CPF into the keypad. I don’t remember any of my phone numbers—France, Brazil—except my Canadian cell, but I sure know my CPF. Portuguese 101.
“Can I get the vaccine today?”
She looked at me, surprised.
“Yes, of course.”
Duh. After all, I got my third COVID dose in Maceió—at the beach, in my swimsuit.
I have been vaccinated against yellow fever before, but that was back in 2001. Feng and I did it in Panama, right by the Panama Canal—our very first vaccine together—because it was a requirement to enter Brazil, where we were eventually heading.
Of course, when we crossed the border (we actually missed it and had to backtrack to get a stamp), no one asked for anything. Still, I’ve been carrying that yellow paper around ever since.
Back then, the vaccine was valid for ten years. Apparently, you’re now covered for life. Whether the vaccine changed or medical knowledge did, I’m not sure—but there’s no chance my worn-out, handwritten yellow card would be taken seriously anyway.
Ten minutes and one needle later, I was good to go.
The part I’m most proud of—and amazed by—came later that night. The pharmacy told me it would take a few days to issue my Certificado Internacional de Vacinação (CIVP).
“How do I get it?”
Naturally, it involved my precious CPF and the Brazilian Department of Health website. The pharmacy employee even gave me her WhatsApp number, just in case I got stuck.
When we got back from our wet adventure, I went online and started the CIVP application process.
Olá,
Informamos que sua solicitação do serviço público se encontra na fase de atendimento Análise.
Nome do Serviço: Emissão do CIVP
Then, thirty minutes later, another email:
Informamos que sua solicitação do serviço público se encontra na fase de atendimento Resultado.
And ta-da. I logged back in and downloaded my official international vaccination certificate.
Wow. That was efficient. And I had zero side effects from the vaccine, by the way.
Why do I need the vaccine? Well, that’s another story—still to be written. Give me a couple of weeks to report on this next adventure. It hasn’t started yet.
