Sao Paulo, Sampa, NYC of the Tropics. But where isn't the New York of
____? This is far from the first metropolis that I'm sure you could
drop people in without them being able to immediately decide what
country they're in or even continent they're on. A lot blends when a
city gets so big.
Which I think is good and bad. At first, it's easy to write this off
as horrible globalization, making the world one cookie-cutter Big
Apple with McDonald's on each corner and Starbucks next door. Yeah,
this can, does, and may continue to happen. Look at any of the many
exurban consumer utopias around Philly or most any other U.S. urban
area. But some cool stuff can occur, too. What's the Sampa spin on
New York's interpretation of an Italian dish called pizza taste like?
Are Snake rock climbing shoes, a Brazilian brand, a better value than
well-established, first-world players like Black Diamond? Should the
retiree in Florida with a couple hundred thousand to invest buy the
condo down the street or a chunk of land where Delhi may next sprawl?
Yeah, this is on on tangents with little relations. But it's a hell
of a lot more interesting than everybody just hanging around their
tariff-protected home towns because they're worried about the local
shop going under. If the dude down the street can't get by selling
coffee, maybe he'd fare better importing some wacky energy drink from
Thailand, combining Indian and Mexican as a fast food joint, or having
his mom help him figure act how to bake a better snack for long bike
rides (Red Bull, Punjabi Burrito, and Clif Bar).
Anyway, today. Very relaxed, "only" biking ~17 miles. Parque
Ibirapuera is on par with NYC's Central Park. It's a bummer that the
vast majority of the adjacent museum of modern art's closed, so I
basically just sit around reading and appreciating the quirks of a new
city. My favorite is the Purina, the pet food company, refreshment
stations. You push a button on the side of their signs and it sprays
you with a mist of water. I feel like no matter how pure the water is
I'd imagine that I smelled like puppy chow for the rest of the week.
After I wile the day away, I head to an Italian street festival a
couple blocks from my hostel. I get a milky blue drink from a vendor,
so strongly vodka that I'm surprised it's not clear. The streets
around actual festival central are better; in the heart of it, I'm
spending 10 minutes to squeeze through just one block.
Street snacks are tasty, but the wait between dishes is way too long.
Sitting in a restaurant, I order some "prato ejuxivo" that I'm fairly
sure comes with rice and beans but have no idea what the main dish is.
Trying to order a batida, which I think is basically a vodka
milkshake, I end up with a glass of Jose Cuervo tequila on the rocks.
I don't know about you, but I doubt I could keep that down if someone
dared me to drink it.
Being a dumb American who doesn't know Portuguese pays off. The white
dude with a British accent sitting down the counter from me helps me
send it back and we strike up a conversation. His name's Eduardo and
he's studying to teach tax law at the University of Sao Paulo. I
bring up the fact that Lula, Brazil's president, might get impeached
(misappropriation of funds or something similar; dollars now buy ~5%
more reais than they did when I arrived) and Eduardo mentions that his
uncle, chief justice of the Brazilian supreme court, will run if
Lula's forced out. This is too bizarre to make up, so I believe him.
We blab a bit and he says he can't go out tonight but asks if I'd like
to go with his friend. My alternatives are to either find fellow
travelers to hang out with at the hostel or go out by myself, so why
not? He calls his buddy, who will pick me up at the hostel at 11:15.
11:45 and I'm about to just head to a bar alone when Paulo with
buddies Cero and Bruno show up in Paulo's black Volkswagen Golf. They
know enough English that we can more or less communicate. It's
reassuring to hear that they regularly work 50-60+-hour weeks as
lawyers: I couldn't escape working long and hard if I want to make a
lot just by moving somewhere developing. It's a pity my narcolepsy
kicks in and I'm falling asleep in this random dude's car before we
even get to the first bar.
Unfortunately, most places are packed and we spend a good chunk of the
night driving around. When we finally find somewhere, Bruno and Cero
have to head home: they've got work early tomorrow (Sunday). Paulo
and I bullshit about politics and anything else that comes to mind in
the bar crowded with disappointingly-average-looking Brazilian girls;
despite downing guarana soda and vodkas all night, I'm still rudely
falling asleep before I get back to the hostel. In spite of the
narcolepsy, a good random night after a relaxingly slow day.