I set my alarm for 9am yesterday thinking I would spring out of bed ready for adventure. What followed was a two-hour internal barter for more sleep. Several hours after I slunk, sloth-like out of bed, I remembered that I generally only vacation when my metaphorical tank is running on fumes and that the overwhelm of a new city/environment puts me into a deep fairytale-like sleep.

I would call myself Snow White if it wasn’t for this one patch of red on my shoulder. (Sunscreen lesson still probably not learned).

However once I did get going, my excitement could not be deterred. I stepped out with a big silly grin on my face because: heat! adventure! Brazil!

Almost immediately, a man walking toward me decidedly and with full eye contact assumed squatting position. He then licked his hand and used said ‘hand’ to excitedly pat his genitals. This caused great confusion to an onlooker who gazed at me confounded by the silly big grin that remained on my face.

NO, I didn’t find this direct and vulgar sexual advance endearing or even cute. It’s just that I wasn’t going to let any man (or woman) get in the way of my adventure in São Paulo.

I spent most of the day lost, looking for a hidden record shop that I never found but came very close to finding. Finally, after regrouping at a very Americanized coffee shop that also had wifi (and things that said ‘restroom’ and ‘coffee’) I set off for the Tomie Ohtake Institute, a museum named after a Japanese, naturalized Brazilian abstract artist. Definitely one of the better abstract/ contemporary museums I have been to in my life. Here are some pictures I took:

Like, who even am I?

Other São Paulo observations:

Sometimes it’s smells like barbecue, but most often: it smells like pot.

Chips aren’t really a thing here. On one of the rare packages that I found, it suggested that ‘hot dogs’ would be a suitable pairing. I immediately set the package down, feeling judged and indignant.

The subway announcements are prefaced by a lil’ Kenny G-like riff. It’s totally sexy. This happens three times before you get to the station and is followed by one female Portuguese speaker and then by one male speaker who sounds like an indifferent Kevin Spacey: “Exit for line 3” and then in an exasperated voice “Red” like only the most pedestrian of people would navigate the subway system by colour.

My view today:

Today’s music:

Alalala- CSS