Droopy Day

Howdy, folks! How's your blood sugar? 

Ours was a little low today. Slept in a bit, then took a nice run along Paulista, same route and distance as yesterday. I may yammer on about it later in the post, but I'm not sure. Depends on how this all evolves. But one aspect of the run, I will definitely describe: Hundreds, if not thousands, of skate boarders, choking the sidewalk and spilling out into the lanes of Paulista. We had to run around them, and it was odd and kind of intimidating. They seemed to be up to something. I found them obnoxious, I must say, with really no regard (or very little) for pedestrians, who really ought to have the right of way. Anyhow, we came back down Paulista on the other side in order to avoid them. And sure enough, whatever they were up to hit the fan as we passed them- they roared in a very Braveheart kind of way and charged down the opposite side of Paulista, blocking traffic and occasionally setting off firecrackers. We were well away from them at that point, but could see them clearly, just across the way. No violence that we could see , and no one seemed upset a them. Just another Sunday in São Paulo. 

Once back from the run, we breakfasted, showered, and headed out to take the metro to the colonial part of town, where there is a massive covered market square, in which you can get food of all kinds, prepared and otherwise. We zoomed across São Paulo like pros , switch trains twice, and in a jiffy we were there. 

I was struck by this man's demeanor: A well- worn bible in his hands, but he looked exhausted, just listlessly handing out flyers about whichever sect he belongs to, just to the folks seated immediately next to him. Seems like a short film waiting to be made. 

But, yeah: The market. 

It's closed Sundays. 

But we entertained ourselves in other ways, checking out he Chinatown area, where, much like New York's Chinatown, you can buy anything tiny and cheap and made of plastic. Unlike NY's version,  though, we saw no Chinese restaurants. So we sat at a little sidewalk cafe, just behind the giant Fanfest screen, and had sandwiches while watching a few minutes of the Belgium - Russia match. 

It was good, but they went very, very heavy on the mayo. Quinn eventually punted, pulled the meat out and just ate it with a knife and fork. 

There were a lot of Chilean and Dutch fans out toddy: 

You can see the back of Fan Fest behind the camera crew. I think they're interviewing a passel of Dutch fans here.

And here's one of the reasons we've felt so safe around town: 

These guys are everywhere. It's kind of odd, actually: that part of town has a lot of homeless people, a lot of funk in the air from human waste (some of which I stepped over), and the homeless folks just sleep on the sidewalks, unmolested by the police. They may never have rousted them out, and this is just normal, or they may be deciding to let it go so they can protect tourists. Idunno. But the contrast of this truly magnificent, majestic architecture looking over everything - 

- combined with the homelessness, and the absolute ubiquity of the graffiti, makes for a fascinating contrast. It's very Brazil: Huge and powerful and rich, with filth and squalor about its ankles. 

We hit Fan Fest after lunch and watched more of Russia-Belgium, but really, if you aren't drinking, and / or 23 years old, it gets dull quick. We decided we'd rather watch the US game at 4:00 back at the hotel. We did find out which buildings down there will let you go to the top floor to get a panoramic view of this massive city - but it was ten minutes to three, there was a line, and we had some subway riding to do. We looked at each other and nodded. "Mañana," we both said. We were back at the hostel in plenty of time for the 4:00 game. 

Which was Korea-Algeria. 

So since then, honestly, we've been chillaxin', as Quinn puts it. I did go out to try to find a nice local place, but I failed. I did find a couple interesting sights, though: 

Perhaps the most messed-up wiring yet. 

Not sure who this guy is, but in Bella Vista, he tells you when to stop and go:

Our feet are sore and our heads are kind of full. So we're ordering in and having a quiet evening watching the US in a few minutes here. We have Chile-Holland tomorrow, at 1:00 (we are triply sure), and know it will be a long day. So tonight, we give ourselves a break. The food being delivered is Brazilian. We could have had Chinese, or Japanese, or Italian. But no. We are authentic. 

Lazy. But authentic. 

Thoughts:

The Dutch fans have the oddest haircuts. 

The Australian fans are in the best shape. 

The Chilean fans, with few exceptions, are men with round faces, short hair, powerful physiques, and about ten extra pounds - which don't mean they can't wipe the floor with you. 

The English fans staying in our hostel are lanky and well-spoken. Funny, nice, worldly young men. 

The Mexican fans are a widely varied lot, physically, reflecting their country's many shapes and sizes. And in my experience they have the most female representation. 

And there we are. If something amazing happens, I'll let you know. But it doesn't seem likely, which is kind of a relief.