A Day In The Park, and On the Move

Hey folks. The plan today was simple: Go to the park. Return a shirt for one of a larger size. Try on some cleats. Shop for "compression shorts", which apparently are a thing. Eat.

We did it all. And it took aaaaaall day.

Up and at 'em breakfasted, and out the door by 10:00. Hey - we're on vacation.

I started taking photos of every dog I saw with a sweater on, because I've seen a lot. Here's what I got today:

Maybe I don't see as many as I thought I did. 

We took a bus that our friendly hostel mistress - it's not like it sounds - told us about, and it was great because we had to wait no time, and it went straight to the park. We got out, walked in, and started kicking the ball. Easy peasy, and a really nice day to boot. These two showed up in running clothes and started stretching next to us:

They seemed like they were on a first date, and it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen, this lengthy, smiling routine before they started off on a jog. Another São Paulo story waiting to be written.

The park is big, and beautiful:

It was also crowded, this being a beautiful Sunday. The masses of paulinos who jog or ride their bikes made for a scene comparable to Paulista Avenue. It was actually dangerous, it seemed to me, with everybody weaving in and out. There are bike paths, with divided lanes, but people passed so much that it really quickly made our minds up that, no, we would not be renting bikes today. Maybe tomorrow, when the population is thinner. 

By the way, if any of you want to become number one in some category in Brazil, come here with three bike helmets, and sell them. You'll instantly become the biggest-selling bike helmeteer in Brazilian history. 

We stopped and watched some soccer:

Petted a few dogs that wandered by too. We were unwittingly on the edge of the unofficial dog park area: 

Lots of breeds, but just as many well-cared-for and beloved mutts. I love that about São Paulo.

I also love what they've done to help this tree, which has sent a branch a little farther out from the trunk than is really wise:

There's a cloth between the bark and the metal. 

Nowhere to eat lunch in the park at an affordable price, so we set out to walk to Rua Oscar Freire, he of the Nike store, and resolved to find a greasy spoon on the way. We were on some pretty hoity-toity streets there, with lots of law offices and corporate headquarters. We saw this place:

...whose name made us homesick:

Ate lunch. Nice place, affordable. Didn't take any pictures, probably because I was exhausted. Made it to the Nike store; tried on the cleats. Quinn though that he'd found a place online to get them cheap; turned out later to be a scam. But it gave us a purpose for today.

Found compression shorts. Checked price tag. Hung them back up.

Quinn thought this guy's coat was funny:

It says "Great Britain", and has the American and British flags. 

 

See what fun we have?

Sundays in São Paulo, the big avenues give up one lane that's transformed into a bike lane. And a whole bunch of people are paid to hold flags saying "stop" so the cyclists don't swarm over the pedestrians at the crosswalks. It's extremely polite and cordial:

Back to the hostel. Footsore and swollen from kicking a ball so much, the many (felt that way, anyway) walking miles...I took a damn nap. And Quinn, a little later, had post card duty:

Off to the mall, then, to return a shirt and eat supper. There's a weigh-your-plate place there. Quinn ate; I was still coasting from eating all my lunch & half of Quinn's.  First, though, I saw what Dick Cheney's been doing with his spare time: 

It's good he keeps busy.

Quinn weighs his options before weighing his options:

They'd set up a tv so we could see the extra periods of Costa Rica-Greece:

A Columbian guy sat right next to me and narrated every move, and with every flub or mistake, declared the offender to be a "maricon" (fag). It bothered me a lot. I forget what a bubble of tolerance we live in sometimes. I looked at the guy as we left: everything about him just screamed "sleazy cave man". Unsurprising. 

Back home, another three-quarters of a mile, with McFlurries halfway there. And here we are. I had this nice long talk today with a couple of the employees of the hostel - In Portuguese! (Kind of) - about how we prefer to get to know fewer places well when we travel rather than flit from one check-off destination to another. And we are definitely doing that. 

We didn't even watch Holland, except for part of the first half over lunch. Heard about the result. Watched 3/4 of regulation time of CR-Greece, and heard the cheer as we walked home after supper when CR won. I kind of like that about today: we watched the soccer, as long as it didn't get in the way of what we wanted to so. That feels about right. 

See you tomorrow!