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.

Let's go to the zoo!

Before we begin, let me just say that at about 2:00 PM, Quinn declared that this had been his favorite day so far. Keep that in mind. 

We got up at about 8:00, which is probably about the amount of sleep a growing teenager should be getting - we'd gone to bed at about eleven, having  stayed up a while to watch "An Idiot Abroad". (It was the Brazil episode, as it turns out.) The first thing we did was to get dressed and go on a warm-up walk, then do a tabata workout - alternating air squats and push-ups. Got the blood flowing. Thence to breakfast, where I was much more under control than on previous days. I've been feeling like the food here has been a little TOO good if you know what I mean. 

Last night we had decided to go to the zoo, one of the suggested activities from the guidebook Quinn had bought me. It said the zoo was very modern and well-appointed, and showed us how to get there. Fortunately or unfortunately, it involved walking back up to Paulista again. We'd walked up there to change money, to go to Rua Oscar Freire, we'd jogged there, we'd walked there to take the subway to Uruguay-England...but Quinn was game. Off we went.

We waited for the bus for 20 minutes or so, then rode it for probably 40 - thinking for most of the way that it was free, since nobody else seemed to pay. We speculated that maybe the bus fee hike we'd heard about had been such a cataclysmic moment that they'd decided to just make the buses free. But then I realized that right behind us was the woman whose job it is to take money and make change. We'd just not gone far enough back to see her. The bus is divided in 2 by a turnstile, and we were supposed to go to the back - most of the forward seats were labeled as preferential seating for elderly people, pregnant people, lactating mothers, and obese people. But we'd found seats that weren't so labeled, and figured we were in the clear. Not so much. I paid and got her to agree to let us know when to get off. 

No real need, as it turned out- we were let out in front of the biggest gate you can imagine:

We paid and entered, and were off to see the animals:

I could have taken a million more. It was a great zoo - well-cared-for, healthy- looking, non-crazy-acting animals, and the cleanest public bathrooms I have ever seen anywhere. We never (knowingly) saw, nor heard, any other Americans there. Lots of Latin Americans from other countries, but no gringos. Curious, that- though we've seen fewer overall, except at the game itself, than I would have thought. 

We ate lunch there - I had some water and nuts I'd packed, and Quinn had some cheese empanadas and a can or two of our accidentally-purchased soda. 

More animal watching, and then we got tired and hit the bus stop. Eighteen minutes waiting, forty more in the bus - which we now knew how to manage. 

And now we are back at the Pousada, where we are watching Ghana- Germany. We're going to participate in the hostel's cook-out tonight - for $8 a head, we get delicious food and conversation with all the other guests. I will be insisting that our phones stay upstairs for that. A whole passel of Chileans are expected to arrive and I'll want Quinn talking with them. 

Regarding Quinn's declaration at the zoo that this was his favorite day so far, I did question that judgment a bit."Better than seeing 2 Suarez goals and one from Roomey? Better than your first ever international soccer game? I mean, you've seen lions and orangutan a before." 

He shrugged. "I guess."

Remarkably, I maintained my calm exterior throughout the conversation. The teenage perspective: it is a maddening thing sometimes. But overall his attitude today was excellent. It's just amazing to me that his favorite bit has nothing to do with the reason we're here, or with Brazil. But that's my anaconda to wrestle, not his. 

Here are the preparations for dinner, by the way:

Post-dinner: it was even better than it looks.

Rua Oscar Freire

Hey everyone, it's Quinn here. Today is Friday June 20. I was woken up this morning at 8:30 by my dad because he wanted to go on a run... We got dressed, stretched a bit and then began jogging at a slowish pace. Noticing that we had to stop every ten seconds at a crosswalk, I started running faster because we were getting ten second brakes every ten seconds. We came back to the hostel after a 30 minute run. My breakfast consisted of delicious cake, hard melon and some Belgian wafers, which were also delicious. After breakfast my dad and I took a shower (but not together), got dressed and were quickly on our way to the seventh most luxurious street in the world, "Rua Oscar Freire". On our way there, we passed through a beautiful street market. My dad and I were offered a strawberry by a vendor and tasted it... It was the best single strawberry I had ever had in my life. It looked like they do in commercials.

We were looking for bananas and saw this enormous line full different sizes, shapes, and flavors. It was amazing. 

We also passed by a huge selection of seafood. It was all fresh and looked soooooooo good. 

Soon we arrived at our destination, the most luxurious street in Brazil. It had stores that sold items from food and clothes to art and shoes. My favorite part of today was going to the nike store. It had awesome jerseys, hats, and the coolest new nike cleats, the nike superflies... They are really light and comfortable but cost over 400 reales. It was really expensive, and of course we were just looking around. 

After that, dad and I decided to go to lunch at a place where you serve yourself from the food available and then they weigh your food. I got some pasta, meat, and rice, along with some small fried-type things. Lunch was delicious, and then we walked back to the hostel. 

We saw the Italy vs coast Rica game which was an ok game, and then went to go get some seltzer and fruit and nuts to have in our room. Turns out the drinks we thought were seltzer, were actually soda. My dad doesn't drink soda, so it's all for me... Yes!!!! Once back at the hostel, we saw some of the France vs Switzerland game (sorry about the result mom). France won the match 5-0. All ther goals were good finishes. After that I came up here to write this blog, and that's where I am now. Thanks for reading this, and I hope to write to you all later, but for now I have to go have dinner.

JOE: Quinn did a fine job there. But he left out the weird / cool aspects of the massive grocery store. One: it has an escalator.........for shopping carts:

Quinn insisted we ride it. 

Two: They have assistants who whiz around the place.......on ROLLER SKATES!!!:

Quinn really wants to order in this evening, so I'll buckle on that one. He actually ended our long walk to Oscar Freire / lunch-hungry death march by turning to me and saying, "That was fun!" So I won't push. Good night! 

P.S.: The bananas were mostly banana-flavored. 

Loyalties Shift

Where to begin? Let us start at the very beginning. That's a very good place to start.

We slept in until 8:30 today and went down for breakfast. The fare was limited, and some of the options - like the "fruit loops" and the "juice" - are of the "fool me once" variety, and will be studiously avoided in future. But we were still happy with it, because it was free, and stuff can be expensive here. Though so far we have been able to find decent meals at reasonable prices - more on that later. 

Breakfast conversation centered on how much credence we should give Roberto, who works at the hostel, as far as his suggestion about when we should head to the stadium. He said we should head out at 11:00 for a 4:00 game, but that struck us all as excessive. The metro here was supposed to be very modern and efficient, so we decided to give ourselves more time doing other things before striking out for the game. 

Things like change money, for instance. Quinn and I walked up to Avenida Paulista, the center of Sao Paulo's  financial clout, and then several blocks to a hotel that would be open on a holiday. (It's Corpus Christi, apparently, and the banks are closed.) so we walked 20 minutes and got in line in the basement of the Hotel, a big and luxurious joint, and waited. 

We met a couple of Costa Ricans, and congratulated them; this led to a chat that eventually made it clear that they wouldn't let me change any money without having my passport. I didn't have it. Bother. 

Back to the hotel. By now it was 12:30, and we set out for the stadium with a Uruguayan scarf and flag, the tickets, our passports (Roberto thought we would need them to get into the game, since our names are on the ticket (wrong again)), an ATM card in case the wait in line at the hotel looked long, and the best attitudes we could muster. 

Which wasn't hard - Quinn was a bit miffed at all the walking we'd had to do, but he was psyched to head to the game, and wasn't at all averse to walking down Avenida Paulista again. He found its crowds very interesting. The first bank we hit, I withdrew some money, and then we hit the metro. 

Incredibly good, this metro system. Clean, efficient, seemingly brand-new, and easy to understand (although all we had to do was follow all the Uruguay and England fans). It probably took us an hour to get there after two transfers and a last, long stretch to the stadium, in an utterly jammed train. 

The stadium itself is very impressive - brand-new, and supposedly unfinished, though I saw no evidence of that anywhere. The only hing was that the seats, which had already been through one game, still had a lot of their original plastic wrapping attached to them. 

The place was amazing. 

This guy, heading toward the stadium, is a Uruguay fan dressed as the "Ghost of 1950". Pretty funny, really. Though not if you're Brazilian. 

Quinn had about that expression on the whole time. 

Warmups.

 

This is Forlan, the Uruguayan star, warming up. He didn't play, which really got me and Quinn bent out of shape.

This is the Uruguayan forward who feigned unconsciousness in order to run out the clock on England. We were ostensibly rooting for Uruguay, but this stuff got under my skin, and I put away the flag and the scarf and started pulling for England. And rooney's goal was my favorite of the cup so far. But as much as I might not like Suarez, I have to admit, having seen him put he whole country's hopes on his back and cary  them to victory: the man is a force of nature. Strong, fast, creative, wily, superior skill set: He is the real deal, a man among boys. 

I would also say that uruguay's role players are, man by man, just better than England's. And I would be remiss if I didn't also point out that England did its fair share of flopping. I'm not happy about he result, but I can't argue with it. Uruguay was better. 

Post game, we walked back to the train station and ate an inexpensive dinner in a little joint that does an efficient game-day business, serving pizza and empanadas. It's a cross between a restaurant and a bar, and a few people were celebrating pretty loudly. Though I saw no direct abuse of the dejected England supporters, there did seem to be more singing when the Uruguayans knew there were Englishmen about. Hard to blame them. 

Quinn maintains that the pizza in this joint was the best he's ever had. No tomato sauce to speak of, a ton of cheese, and shredded ham underneath the cheese. And I agree that it was amazing. But as they say, hunger is a good sauce. And we were both famished. 

Back on the metro, which was Ridiculously quick, and here we sit, watching post- match analysis and pondering our good fortune. I hope he is, anyway. I know I am. 

Tomorrow we plan on taking a good long jog through the city, and then we'll try an itinerary for city exploration from a guidebook Quinn got me for Father's Day. A self-serving gift, perhaps. But he comes by that honestly - I've been known to give gifts that will benefit me quite directly. He's his father's son. 

I'll leave you with a snap I snuck of some dejected England fans on the subway. Poor guys. 

Seats!

We are sitting, for the Uruguay-England game, on the lowest level, in one corner. Section 409, but I don't know which cardinal direction. So watch for us - Quinn has a blue tee shirt, and I have a gray one, and we will have a Uruguayan flag and a Uruguay scarf. Off to the game!

Landfall!

Hello from Brazil! And let me tell you, this is going to be tedious. Not being in Brazil - no no no, that's going to be great. But typing on this little phone screen is going to be tedious for me , and reading the drivel I am sure to produce when so handicapped is sure to be very little fun for you. So I think it's best if we just cut each other a little slack from the word "go". Don't you?

We thought we - the four of is - would have time to have dinner together before our flight, but thunderstorms in Toronto were delaying everything, and the nice lady at the ticket counter told us she could put us on stand-by for an earlier flight. So we all said a hurried good bye and then Q and I were on our way. There were some minor-league hitches, but once we were settled into the ridiculously civilized waiting areas in Pearson Airport, wih their complementary use of banks of iPads and power outlets that any ol body can access, we were on our way. 

Two in-flight meals, two movies ("Grand Budapest Hotel" and "Gravity"), and some surprisingly deep sleep later, we stumbled into the bright light of a São Paulo mid-day.

The two explorers mug for the camera in Toronto. 

Wine is an excellent sleep aid.

Everything went smoothly at the airport, and we were inside a brand-new taxi cab in a matter of minutes. Our driver's Portuguese was quite easy to understand, and he told us that from where we were headed, it would be a very easy subway ride to the stadium tomorrow. Q was psyched to find that out. We arrived at the Pousada, paid exactly the fare that had been agreed upon, and Bob was our uncle. We had arrived. 

Our cabbie......'s profile. Not at all sure why I even took this. Nerves, I guess. 

Q, just arrived, watching Holland-Australia. (And the jersey had just the effect Janneke had said it would: someone tried to speak to him in Russian.)

The view from my lunch table. 

It turns out that, in São Paolo, FIFA has set up something called the "Fan Fest", where people gather by he thousands to watch the games on huge screens and mill about. It's a 20-minute walk from the Pousada, and Q and I mosied on over to check it out, both freshly showered and changed. 

On the way, though, we saw a site ao Brazilian that we (I) just had to snap a pic. A city lot fenced off for futbol. Really good players, too.

We arrived at the Fan Fest, and saw basically this:

Lots of nationalities present, but Uruguay was by far the best-represented. The stadium is sure to be two-thirds Uruguayan tomorrow- though our hostel has about five Englishmen staying here. Nice enough, doing that Europe thing of traveling like mad while they're young. God bless 'em. 

And that is really the whole shootin' match! Tomorrow I'd like to do a practice run to the stadium before we have to do it under the fun at game time. Other than that, no concrete plans apart from sleeping in (VERY comfy beds (and a room upgrade - got our own bathroom!)), and perhaps recon. But tomorrow is mostly about soccer. 

Huzzah!!!

Underway!

"Brazilathon"...? "Brargentinazo"...We'll work on the name. But we are underway! (Never mind the random photo of Quinn drinking a shake. He reached over and punched that photo without asking, and now it's posted. Boundaries are going to be an early issue.)