Back From Brazil

I consider myself someone who’s traveled a lot, but no trip has been so jaw droppingly interesting as my recent voyage to Brazil. The entire experience from the bullet proof cars (which have absurdly heavy doors FYI) to the ostentatious luxury to the extreme poverty to the lushly green landscape of Minas Gerais to the sugarcane to the unparelled time and energy devoted to partying still has my head in a Brazilian spin (lack of sleep and excessive drinking aren’t helping either).

I landed in Sao Paulo expecting to feel

1. Like a victim
2. Like a foreigner
3. Like someone with a ‘Rob Me’ sign stapled to their back.

This was not the case. In fact, throughout my entire tip, I never once felt uncomfortable or unsafe (except from my own self-induced vodka comas.) The Sao Paulo airport was void of sketchy predators and helpful men in suits working at the airport guided us into a safe, registered taxi. We were on our way.

Tatas and I stayed with a girlfriend of mine from Punta who had an apartment with a spare room in Higienopolis, a wealthy residential area of the city near a prestigious university. ‘Higienopolis’ the word actually means ‘sanitary.’ This part of the city was named correctly. Not only were the streets remarkably clean for one of the five biggest metropolises in the world, security guards stood outside of almost every building. College students meandered around the shops, residents walked their dogs in beautiful tropical parks with thick plants and palm trees.

Before I left, many had described Sao Paulo as a ‘cement block,’ and yes, if you view the city airily in a helicopter this is the case (which many do…helicopters are the preferred method of transportation among the elite, and according to the folks I talked to in the vacation-destination Escarpas where we went later, ‘among the elite you’re a nobody without your own helipad.’) So from the air, the city not only looks massive but massively huge and unappealing. But down on the ground, certain sections like Jardims and Higienopolis are more beautiful than Beverly Hills.

I was also expecting:

1. Times Square level crowded streets everywhere and
2. to feel utterly unsafe without my arm around a native friend.

WRONG! My Brazilian girlfriend’s sister drew us a little map and sent us out shopping moments after our arrival. Higienopolis felt more like a wealthy, under-populated suburb than a section of one of the largest cities in the world. We soaked up the amazingly warm weather, radiant palm trees and imposing embassies until we arrived at our destination – the Higienopolis Mall which looked as nice as the Beverly Center complete with golden staircases, glass ceilings and a grass park indoors. We even stopped to ask directions from tan security guards using only hand signals and were greeted with helpful smiles.

Our mission was to indulge in bikinis and all things summery. Since Brasil is entering the fall season, everything we wanted for the start of summer in the USA was on liquidancion or ‘sale,’ the one word I know in absolutely every language. We ended up bikini shopping and found ourselves in pieces of Lycra spandex that barely covered our ass let alone any significant portion of our chest. Upon requesting larger sizes via vulgar hand movements, our sales woman would deny our request responding:

“No. Big iz ugly.”

After further communication that we didn’t feel comfortable with 95% of our butt cheeks showing, she allowed us to try a medium, which fascinatingly enough was just as tiny as the previous suit. So apparently going up a size only adds half a centimeter of fabric. Apparently these people just like their swimsuits small.

That night as a preview, our girlfriend took us on a driving tour around the city. It all felt exactly like L.A., spread out but with moving traffic. We checked out the city skyline at a bar called Skye on top of the Hotel Unique. Then we joined with other friends whose driver took us to the most stunningly beautiful sushi (sushi’s big in Sao Paulo) restaurant I’d ever seen. The décor made Nobu downtown look like an Apple Bees. Oh, and like L.A. if you’re not with your driver (which 70% of the upper class employs) restaurants have valet. It was around this time that Tatas and I looked at each other in a mutual gaze that said, “we were expecting car jackings at traffic lights and people stalking the streets with machine guns and instead we got tuna Tar Tar and valet?”

Granted, later on our second trip to the airport where my friend insisted on taking a short cut through a shanty town and days later on our five hour road trip through the jungles of Minas Gerais, I witnessed unimaginable poverty. But the truth is that if you stick to the right areas in Sao Paulo and refrain from wearing a flashy watch, chances are you’re going to be just fine as a tourist.

Day one was a warm up. The city, the lakes, and the parties (complete with video footage) to come…