Misc. Articles

Brazil: Arriving in São Paulo

By Simon Tarmo
September 25, 2007


I have arrived. I have packed up my life and now I'm in one of the biggest, craziest cities in the world - São Paulo.

Actually, this is just a temporary stay, for a couple of days, before I move on to my new home for a few years or so - Belo Horizonte, Minas Gerais, Brasil.

But I‘ll speak of São Paulo for now.

To begin somewhat poetically, the sheer size of the city alone makes the mind shift to different places, places where my former safe, secure and controlled existence (in Sydney, Australia) are overcome by semi-subconscious feelings of possibility, excitement and the unknown.

I touch down at about midnight on a Friday and quickly clear the tired and bored looking federal police and customs officers, before picking up my 92kg of luggage (yes, we paid handsomely for the extra kilos but it‘s hard to leave your previous world behind) and greeting my good friend Augusto (Guto for short), who had just arrived to pick me up. Despite various warnings from folk supposedly in the know back in Australia, I had absolutely no problem with my trip, especially the final hurdle getting out of São Paulo airport, and actually rolled through the exit gates before my scheduled landing time - lucky my friend is prompt.

Following a quick search for Guto‘s car in the balmy São Paulo night, we squeeze into the little Fiat and make our way through the surprisingly light traffic (compared with previous, mid-week and daytime trips) on the surprisingly improved roads and, after a few absolutely natural moments of panic checking the green suburb direction signs before veering off on an exit while simultaneously muttering the Indian sounding names and affirmations that we were on the right course, Guto announces out arrival in his suburb of Vila Madalena (Madalena is a version of the name Magdalene, I was quickly answered, reaffirming that I am now miles away from my English/Aboriginal inspired homeland).

Now, with São Paulo basically the entire Australian population crammed into a space the size of Sydney, I found Vila Madalena to be a small, gracious haven amongst numerous not-so-couth areas. After parking in the security area below Guto's rented two bedroom apartment, rigorously wrestling my weighty luggage into the diminutive lift-with-a-pull-to-door, and quickly changing shirts and smells thanks to Rexona's shower in a bottle, we take off down his street to a 'favourite' bar of mine (I'd been there once before a few years earlier and loved it) for a midnight snack/dinner.

Oh, by the way, I had also just met back up with my wife after a few weeks apart (this life move thing is complex) and we were now hand in hand following Guto and his wife, Adriana (Dri), through the increasingly busy streets.

Busy soon becomes crowded and as we arrive at the heart of Vila Madelena‘s restaurant/bar area we are already peering into places for free tables, and, although the bar of my choice is packed to the Patricks, we spot a nice, free corner in the establishment across the road and head in. A quick picanha na chapa (beef rump cut the opposite way to in Australia cooked medium rare and served on hot plate sizzling above two burners - yeah) and five or six Originals (600ml bottles of beer shared amongst the table - yeah) and I am well and truly ready to surrender to my jetchee lagee, which I rapidly do.

I‘ll skip a day now thank you very much air travel, although on Saturday we did manage a trip to the wonderful central markets and dinner at another friend‘s apartment, even though my body said not to.

Sunday morning is funny. Still timezone-challenged, I wake early and spend 7-8am on Guto's wireless laptop catching up with mum and sister on Messenger (mum's come a long way) and culling my already growing inbox of work-related emails. At about 8:30am I hear a rather, no very, loud explosion of music coming from the street 12 levels below and washing over the entire suburb. It is the lovely Marisa Monte - Brasil's own PJ Harvey crossed with Norah Jones - singing a bit of samba and a bit of MBP (Musica Popular Brasileira). As I'm not tired at all, this is great. A bit different to my customary Sunday morning, but almost exactly what I expected and wanted to happen on my first real day back in Brasil. Actually, it feels somewhat like that Jim Carrey movie The Truman Show in that everything seems to be happening just because I'm here, but will stop when I leave.

The latter is kind of true. I am quickly assured by Dri, who has risen with the music, that this is not normal but the opening of the annual Vila Madelena Festival - now in its 30th year. Lucky me. Once we are all up and ready to get going (I‘m actually starting to feel tired again), we head to a nearby café that serves breakfast - relatively rare in São Paulo I‘m told - before moving on to check out the already pulsing streets of the festival. Pearl Jam's Alive is now pumping out of the speakers on the main street stage, a bit too familiar for my liking, but once Eddie has finished off the song with his customary whine Paulista musicians take the stage and begin practicing and checking sound.

Now a festival‘s a festival and I won‘t bore anyone with the details but amongst more beer and carne (meat) na chapa (remember?), there are a few odds and ends worth mentioning, namely: it‘s a bloody big festival, with about four street sections of around half a kilometre each closed off and full of revellers; you can buy beer anywhere and drink it anywhere, beleza! (beauty!); it‘s freakin hot - over 30 degrees - although it‘s still officially winter; it‘s freakin loud, particularly when the real bands are on stage; and the whole time my wife remains incredibly happy to be back in her home country.

On Monday we are up and at ‘em early and quickly on the way to Congonhas (or Conyongas as I like to mis-pronounce) airport for an early flight to Belo Horizonte, my new city. Before I leave São Paulo for the time being, though, I‘ll mention a couple more of my numerous and just plain amazing highlights. Travelling from the airport at midnight I particularly liked going past the city's main cemetery to see about 10 of the 30 or so flower stalls that line its gates completely open and as fully stocked as Mother's Day, just in case a late night visit took your fancy (although, upon second thoughts, I reckon I could have done with some flowers a few times late on a Friday night, and my wife agrees). I also loved our trip to the markets on Saturday when we parked the Fiat in a big, old, narrow building that seemed to me to be based on a design out of Mad Magazine - the street level is a long row of garage spaces which cars are driven into before being raised however many stories (the entire, 15 level+ building is dedicated to parking) on big elevators to rest for a few hours and then be retrieved.

Anyway, another gringo has had a taste of São Paulo, a city that really doesn‘t seem to sleep or end, and the salt from the meat and foam from the beer remains on the tip of my tongue for now.

And so I move on to a place I feel is a genuine illustration of Brasil and her people, well away from the overt tourism and sheer madness of many of the other renowned cities. My new home is Belo Horizonte. Stay tuned...