You know, like being at a lake or something.
I can't help but chuckle. It was the way I was raised all right?
I walk more than I breathe (mainly cause there seems to always be a cigarette hanging out of my mouth nowadays). Mainly because the city is damn big, I have many places to go, cabs are unrealistic, and in many cases, so are buses. Buses are real but unrealistic to travel on, ya dig?
Friday I found myself texting every single person on my contact list. It reminded me of the good ol' days in LexVEG looking for you know what (how's that for censorship? I say this in good humor Pops).
The Americans have adopted the Brazilian M.O. folks. It was midnight by the time I left my house. We procured (the Portuguese word for "look for" is procurar...but I guess the meanings differ a bit) and encountered (again, "find" is encontrar) a great spot--Ze Presidente. A really neat little bohemian bar, with a few rooms and subterranean chill lighting (subterranean chill--my new energy drink line), but the highlight was the band. At the bottom of the cave stood a stage. And on that stage stood a beautiful woman swaying her body and slurping up and sighing into the microphone Morrison style accompanied by her raggle taggle band of heart and soul Jimmys.
http://www.myspace.com/barbaraeugenia check it
Rock, blues, samba, island....a danceable sort of tunage. The highlight of my night. Closely followed by street hot dog (pronounced "hoche doggee," a close relative of the "chees bourger") consumption after the show. Here, they really do hot dogs folks. Dog, bun, corn, fried taters, mashed taters, mustard, ketchup, mayo, hot sauce...some other sauce....yeah. The real deal. It was delicious and disgusting only at 4 AM.
A Sao Paulo dysfunctionality: bars close at 7. AM. Trains and buses stop at midnight and don't open again til 5. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM HERE FOLKS? Drunk driving is rampant in this city. I have heard people here talking about how they didn't get home til 6 cause they wanted to be out til 2 (people don't even go out til midnight) but didn't wanna walk the hour home or pay 30 reais for a taxi so they just waited til the buses came. I scoffed and thought "ha. That'll never be me."
On Friday it was.
But. I didn't even leave the bar til almost 4. So, you know, it all worked out well. I was waiting for the bus to come. Suddenly this woman comes up. Maybe in her 70s. You may have heard me speak of angels in my life. Especially while traveling. She was one.
She lit my way to the Metro, and on the way, we talked about politics, people, drugs--all the things you talk about when you first meet someone. We said goodbye, and both went our separate ways. But when we got down to the platform, we encountered again. There was a track dividing us--we had opposite destinations. Not a word was spoken. We stared. Just looked at each other. And smiled. For minutes and minutes we did this. We couldn't take our eyes off each other. It was extremely intense. I got on the train and kept staring as I left. Such a deep unspoken connection was there. I will never see her again.
We are all humans, guys. We all have this! We can all do this! We share a common love! We can connect with strangers! It is within us all!
Saturday met me with more opportunities. Headed to Praca Benedito--a mighty open air market in Pinheiros. They had everything. Just a huge flea market. Pretty impressive. Really neat vibe goin on there.
So. Because we are 55, we tend to travel in large groups, averaging 10-15. This is completely dysfunctional. It is silly to expect that we will all end up the same place at the same time. But we consistently do. People disagree--I know, it is nutso. I have turned this over. Completely let go. And decided to stick with a small group and do our own thing.
After the market, we decided we wanted to get to Bixiga, or "little Italy." We left with 10 people. Like everything, it took around 2 hours to get there, and there were a few miles of walking coupled with buses and trains involved. But we got there. And it was not spectacular. But the spectacular thing is just walking around inside this massive hyperventilating organism.
Sunday was even busier. Got to 2 museums--Museu de Lingua Portuguesa and Pinacoteca. The first one was so-so, I am more of a fan of art than words, unless the words are art. Linguistics is extremely interesting. But yesterday I just was not feeling it. So we hit up the Pino. And boy, it was spectacular. I felt nourished by this art. Reminded me of Bilbao.
The next expedition was for Parque Ibirapuerra. We get this destination in mind, and although it takes hours to get there, we gotta get there!!! So, again, 15 of us set out, and I think we all made it, but at very different times and in very different places. The park was nice. A nice green area. Relaxing was had. We were very voyeuristic.
The evening entailed my much sought after pouch of “tobacco para enrolar” YES! great friendship and conversation and futebol in a small cafe. Only to be followed by sweat (its a sacrifice we make to keep the bugs and the city noise out by keeping the windows closed) and music sharing.
These days I am passing through the city for 12 hours straight. Just go time. And it has quenched that thirst to get out. Tonight will be so relaxing and home oriented you won't even believe it.
There you have it. A completely uninteresting and newsy blog post. Not much about real things. Just tangible ones.
What's going on inside? Well--let's just say it resembles feijoada.
Tchau gente.
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