Sampa
The twinkling lights of the city come into view long before we start our final descent into Congonhas, São Paulo’s domestic airport. I stare greedily at the hills and houses that make up the neighbourhoods surrounding the airport as we descend, transfixed by the sprawl. I am sure that the plane will catch someone’s satellite dish as we approach the runway.
The cooler, if polluted, air seeps through the cracks and greets me as I step into the elevated walkway which joins the plane to the concourse. A confidence surges through my body as I adjust my grip on my laptop and head towards the baggage claim area. Under perennial renovation, the claim area is small and cramped. The bags arrive quickly; I grab my small black sports bag as it gets dumped onto the conveyor belt and head towards the door.
The arrival lobby no longer gives directly onto the street. The renovations have spread from the baggage claim area to the rest of the arrivals section and I am caught off guard. Looking around for an exit, I am not sure where to go. Noticing my indecision, an airport staff points to the elevator and indicates that if I were to go down a floor and take a left, I would find the taxi stand. He draws out the eeee in esqueeeerda with the typical Paulista, or interior of São Paulo, accent. I smile broadly and suspect that my thanks comes out a little too profusely.
I hail a cab and settle in for the ride. Traffic whizzes by; I am surrounded by hundreds of thousands of red tail lights as we race up the side of Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo’s answer to New York’s Central Park. My cab driver is from the interior of the state of Bahia, in the Northeast.
After settling in at my pousada, I head out for a fashionably late dinner at Mercadinho, on Avenida Consolação. As I sit on the small sidewalk terrace and dig into my pasta topped with abobóra and charque – pumpkin and shredded sundried meat – both staples of the Northeast, I watch São Paulo go about its business. The people at the table next to me talk animatedly. The gym across the street is open twenty-four hours. The waiters ask me if everything is fine. I can hardly bring myself to open my book which sits closed on the table. It’s good to be back.
The cooler, if polluted, air seeps through the cracks and greets me as I step into the elevated walkway which joins the plane to the concourse. A confidence surges through my body as I adjust my grip on my laptop and head towards the baggage claim area. Under perennial renovation, the claim area is small and cramped. The bags arrive quickly; I grab my small black sports bag as it gets dumped onto the conveyor belt and head towards the door.
The arrival lobby no longer gives directly onto the street. The renovations have spread from the baggage claim area to the rest of the arrivals section and I am caught off guard. Looking around for an exit, I am not sure where to go. Noticing my indecision, an airport staff points to the elevator and indicates that if I were to go down a floor and take a left, I would find the taxi stand. He draws out the eeee in esqueeeerda with the typical Paulista, or interior of São Paulo, accent. I smile broadly and suspect that my thanks comes out a little too profusely.
I hail a cab and settle in for the ride. Traffic whizzes by; I am surrounded by hundreds of thousands of red tail lights as we race up the side of Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo’s answer to New York’s Central Park. My cab driver is from the interior of the state of Bahia, in the Northeast.
After settling in at my pousada, I head out for a fashionably late dinner at Mercadinho, on Avenida Consolação. As I sit on the small sidewalk terrace and dig into my pasta topped with abobóra and charque – pumpkin and shredded sundried meat – both staples of the Northeast, I watch São Paulo go about its business. The people at the table next to me talk animatedly. The gym across the street is open twenty-four hours. The waiters ask me if everything is fine. I can hardly bring myself to open my book which sits closed on the table. It’s good to be back.
posted by Karen @ 7:31 p.m.
2 Comments:
this brought tears 2 my eyes. although sao paulo has never been my very first choice 4 cities in brasil, it's the heart of fashion, culture + music, so i end up there often. i was lamenting this morning while watching tv globo from my brooklyn apartment that u have the pleasure of the spring equinox in the next 24 hours, while we are dealing with the autumn one...
when i close my eyes i can see the avenida paulista, the parque, the japanese markets + all the things that make my heart leap about sao paulo that i'd forgotten. i wonder if u'll have the chance 2 visit the beautiful, putty colored sand of santos' beaches + drink an espanhola... my next trip 2 brasil will only afford me 12 hours in sao paulo b4 heading onto maranhao.
thank u 4 this beautiful post. thank u 4 taking us there.
Thanks Preta! BTW, for your trip to the Lencois, if you are looking for an excursion/tour company we used Barratur to go in and out of the dunes. They were excellent and highly professional.
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