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I’m learning Brazil and there is a learning curve. It’s a fascinating country with its extremes. Everyone is ridiculously friendly. To the point that you question whether or not they are: a) actually that excited to meet you, b) on drugs, or c) motivated by some unfounded hope that knowing me will benefit them in some way in the near future. I really think it is a)! Of course, it helps that the majority of people I’m meeting are friends of my friend Anne, who is loveable by her own right and thus I have a competitive edge over your average American visitor to Sao Paulo. But I have to say, it’s a nice way to be welcomed into what otherwise might be a slightly intimidatingly bustling city.
Some funny things I’ve encountered that are worth mentioning…
I had a Brazilian pedicure yesterday in preparation for our trip to the beach this weekend. Anne was already an expert and had warned me that it is “different” than what I may be used to. Well I’ve had some strange pedicures (even IN the United States!). This one started out great. Then they put plastic baggies filled with watery lotion on my feet. Not a bad experience! THEN when it came time to apply the polish, the lady literally slathered it all over my toes, seemingly only barely aiming for the actual toe nails. Out came an industrial-sized bucket of polish remover, and she set about painstakingly wiping away the excess polish. The finished product are some meticulously clean toes with polish, you guessed it, just on the nails. Anne and I agreed that this nail job is a metaphor for how the entire country is run. The mentality seems to be, “let’s get this done as quickly as possible and worry about the clean-up after the fact.” Again, the finished product will belie the process for getting there. You would have to look quite closely at the end result (or have witnessed the process from the onset) in order to really appreciate how it was derived. Worth the extra time and energy/resources to go through that clean-up process? Apparently so! My toes look great.
Another really funny encounter took place at what I thought was a little clothing boutique. I saw a shirt in the window and wanted to try it on. No problem. I picked up some matching red pants on my way into the dressing room. Perfect fit on both counts, I was ready to make my purchase. One problem…there was no tag on the pants. Okay, the manager went to look for another pair in the storeroom. She returned with the pants, but they were royal blue. She insisted that I could not purchase the red pants because they were not marked. I could purchase the blue ones instead, what a great solution! Great. Except that I already had blue pants. I wanted the red ones. No, not possible. Really? It is worth noting that there was no electronic inventory system…these ladies were writing down each item in a notebook and using a calculator to come up with the total due. Hmmm…no way around this situation? Definitely not. Eventually, with a lot of back-and-forth with my Spanish and their Portuguese, we came up with a solution. There was another BRAND of red pants in the storeroom (I went and had a look myself) and they fit even better. Wow! Miracle and problem solved, everyone was happy, and no one is sure why they didn’t think to offer me those pants 15 minutes earlier. Then I got home and noticed that one of the labels was falling off. Well, that’s because these clothes had iron-on labels that were covering up the real labels from the original designers/manufacturers. Ha! I was duped, 100%. She told me that these were all locally-designed clothes (at least I’m pretty sure she did). That may be the case, but there was nothing “boutique” about them! You win, little Brazilian manager with the frosted highlights, you win. AND the pants still look great.
Last night Anne took me to the housewarming/holiday party one of her co-workers was throwing at his apartment. A gorgeous outdoor terrace overlooking, well, more gorgeous outdoor terraces along the rooftops of Sao Paulo. Funny and interesting people (Anne works in advertising, so this is always a given when I meet colleagues of hers), good food (I took bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with almonds, a la Tyler Florence’s menu item from my fave SF haunt, Wayfare Tavern), plenty of wine, and conversation in a variety of languages.
Today I’m venturing out to what I’ve been told is the “posh neighborhood” for some authentically local designs, hopefully finishing up my Christmas shopping, an extravagant lunch, and maybe some afternoon sunbathing if I’m lucky. It’s so hot and humid that I won’t last long before I need another shower (not complaining). Sounds like a perfect holiday afternoon to me! Thanks for reading…
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