Slouching São Paulo Steez

The latest in Brazilian
hilarity = incredibly
spacious buses for short trips between cities.

I mean, Bob puts up that chair divider and he’s cuddling with the poor lass. Who knew coach travel could be this comfy, while simultaneously managing to break age barriers.

We marked our two-months in Rio's trenches, with a trek to the state beneath us geographically and in terms of grime —São Paulo. Notorious for makin’ ish and shippin’ ish, it’s not a business state, it’s a business…state.
That was a Jay-Z reference.
I didn’t find Jay-Z down São-th, because he’s touring with Coldplay and prepin’ to perform at the presidential innaguration.

But this wasn't about Jay-Z or the new Kanye jawn that I tried to repeatedly worked to wrap my head around during the two 6-hour maximum-recline rides — it was about seeing things that we would never see while Keepin It so damn Rio.

Drunk buildings.
Every structure has a mercedez-bend to it in the port-city of Santos. I imagine there is an entire well-established industry that specializes in constructing and installing specific furniture leveling equipment. Rio takes pride in it's crooked archetecture (see: favelas), but just blames it on poverty instead of something as trait as shaky soil. Which is a curious scapegoat considering the sand felt more like concrete.



Concretesand.
Far from the soft squeeking of the Copacabana sand. Yeah — it's really hard. But it's also difficult to really get any of it on you. Good for games, undesirable for frolicking. Kids kicked the futi around without dune interference. Yet, the usually leisurely afternoon activity of Sand Castling, suddenly turns chore when you have to dig for every grain. São givith and it takith. But it also selleth.

Buttselling. — the nice (?) way to call the prosts.
Ya see, in Rio, them shits is just out there. Like bang. Ready to go, be 'em men, women, or transformers. But the busy state to the São-th, keeps things legit and transparent. Better for biz. This includes card slangin'.
















Card Slangin'.
I mean, Jesus. Kids in São Paulo actually have the nerve, to be out in the streets doing something other than begging/looting/huffing chemicals. Instead, these little bastards spend their hours trading absurdly priced pre-printed epileptic seisures back and forth — taking it seriously no less. The little tots pictured above are scene "trading" hologramic hufflepuffs and peekamen in Sao Paulo's Japanese district of Liberdade. Complete with ill graffiti.


Ill Graffiti.
Although Rio has some deceeee murals and jumbles, it's S to the P got that craze spray. When you paint a guy who's paintin next to another guy, who's not even phased by the painting of the first guy— shheeeshh, that's some ill graff.
Peep the green knit sweater. Diamond pattern. Who needs real diamonds when you got the diamond pattern? Who needs small avocados when you got big avocados?



Big & Small Avocados.
It might seem like a blessing to have avocados this big at your disposal. Unfortunately these aren't those kind of avocados — they are sweet. So sweet that some people order avocado and orange juice mixtures at juice bars in Rio. Even if that order was on accident, the fact that they didn't look at me strange when I fumbled my pronunciation, indicates the regularity of the order. In short—the small ones are more near to normal. Unattainable in Rio.

This Dog

Cariocas would give this pup the boot.
Rio's pet population is more well kept than 90% of the population.
They are dressed to for an ideal.
Never to reflect the actual streets they prance on.
Down São-th them shits got Mohawks!