What do the simple folk do
Today is Brazilian Independence Day.
You can't be here without being very aware of a wide differences in poverty and wealth, not only between here and USA, but also within this country. Sao Paulo, with it's various suburb cities and villages, numbers 12 million, and of these, Campinas numbers 1 million people. The area where the hotel is very rich, by any standard. One of the 'grocery stores' nearest the hotel reminds me of Sutton Place Gourmet in Chevy Chase, if that gives you any frame of reference. But walk a few blocks in any direction and the maintenance of streets, walkways and homes goes down hill fast. In this neighborhood, businesses have metal shutters when they close and private security gaurds when they are open. I mean, the grocery store, the electronics store, the banks - they have some guy sitting at the door in a uniform. From what I read, that is because the government is so poor and corrupt that the police are terribly understaffed and generally useless. Houses, in the villa category in this area, have elaborate cast iron gates, electric locks and intercoms at the gates for people and automatic openers of both garage door and gates to the streets for cars. Apartments, which are sky scrapers, have security gaurds in little buildings AND all of the above gates, etc. So, basically, ordinary people live in compounds.
Maybe you come from New York or some other large city. But I have been to DC, Paris, Rome and resorts like Grand Cayman and I have not seen compounds like this for the rich anywhere but here Jamaica and Sicily. It's kind of unnerving to me.
I would put my comfort zone of this place with only Palermo being scarier. Well, going the wrong way on 14th street in DC is kind of scary, too, but at least I speak the language.
Anyway, today is their Independence Day, as I said, a big holiday and three day weekend. The school outside the hotel window, the source of happy kid sounds on most days, is oddly quiet and I can actually hear birds. The neighborhood I am in, being all about business and such is pretty dead. Quiet, the hotel half empty, restaurants closed or underpopulated. As TQO and I went for an exercise walk, I wondered where the heck they are. I assumed, because I had been told by the driver, that most rich people go to the country, flee the city, for long weekends. Many of the rich have a house in the country. Ok, not too weird. So where is everyone else? What does my waiter do or the lady who could speak English at the dry cleaner?
We found out. In order to get an hour's exercise walking, we have to leave the comfort zone, although we can skirt around in a circle and hit lovely parks and the edge of some University campus. But this time, I saw in the distance a big church so we walked that way.
That's what they do. They go to church early in the morning. The church court yard and the municipal park just across from it had some sort of fair set up. Kid's games, including the inflatable moon walk, booths with food, live music, banners, tacky rings of plastic flowers with metallic streamers. Behind the church and the park was a low brow shopping district, with a series of cobble stoned streets with shops on both sides and no cars allowed. They had pirate dvd's and cd's for sale, street musicians, food and drink vendors, clothing and tshirts spread out on blankets. There was a big market - looked like the French Market in NOLA had gone down hill considerably - in a giant quonset hut. There were hookers. There were grandmothers pushing prams. Teenage girls in skin tight jeans and t-shirts written in English or French in metallic ink. Teenage boys in baggy jeans and athletic t-shirts and baseball caps with soccer team names on backwards. Toddlers with dripping ice cream bars. The whole gammit of Campinas working class. We passed two of our recent waiters; we must have tipped well because they both waived enthusiastically and only one of them was totally drunk.
The smell of food was everywhere, a slightly greasy beefy and onions kind of smell, with overtones of spiciness. It makes me slightly feel slightly sick, not hungry, but to each his own. Partly that's cause it is getting quite hot - I would say it's in the mid 80's with tropical sun beating down. And it's 'winter'.
At 2PM the cops showed up to make everyone leave. On our way back, we passed the Hall of Justice (city court?) and they were taking down bleachers and such - I am assuming from what I saw on television that semi-military parades are the thing for today.
We have a dinner with the whole crew of IBM'ers who are staying here in the hotel. Some of them I know because they used to be at CCS. Can't wait. Dinner with American computer geeks in a rainforest full of skyscrapers. Bring me another one of those funny little drinks with all the limes, please, and that firewater made from sugar cane which is emphatically not rum.
Don't get me wrong, I'm having a good time. It's just all sort of surreal.
So, now I know. Happy Brazilian Independence Day every body.
You can't be here without being very aware of a wide differences in poverty and wealth, not only between here and USA, but also within this country. Sao Paulo, with it's various suburb cities and villages, numbers 12 million, and of these, Campinas numbers 1 million people. The area where the hotel is very rich, by any standard. One of the 'grocery stores' nearest the hotel reminds me of Sutton Place Gourmet in Chevy Chase, if that gives you any frame of reference. But walk a few blocks in any direction and the maintenance of streets, walkways and homes goes down hill fast. In this neighborhood, businesses have metal shutters when they close and private security gaurds when they are open. I mean, the grocery store, the electronics store, the banks - they have some guy sitting at the door in a uniform. From what I read, that is because the government is so poor and corrupt that the police are terribly understaffed and generally useless. Houses, in the villa category in this area, have elaborate cast iron gates, electric locks and intercoms at the gates for people and automatic openers of both garage door and gates to the streets for cars. Apartments, which are sky scrapers, have security gaurds in little buildings AND all of the above gates, etc. So, basically, ordinary people live in compounds.
Maybe you come from New York or some other large city. But I have been to DC, Paris, Rome and resorts like Grand Cayman and I have not seen compounds like this for the rich anywhere but here Jamaica and Sicily. It's kind of unnerving to me.
I would put my comfort zone of this place with only Palermo being scarier. Well, going the wrong way on 14th street in DC is kind of scary, too, but at least I speak the language.
Anyway, today is their Independence Day, as I said, a big holiday and three day weekend. The school outside the hotel window, the source of happy kid sounds on most days, is oddly quiet and I can actually hear birds. The neighborhood I am in, being all about business and such is pretty dead. Quiet, the hotel half empty, restaurants closed or underpopulated. As TQO and I went for an exercise walk, I wondered where the heck they are. I assumed, because I had been told by the driver, that most rich people go to the country, flee the city, for long weekends. Many of the rich have a house in the country. Ok, not too weird. So where is everyone else? What does my waiter do or the lady who could speak English at the dry cleaner?
We found out. In order to get an hour's exercise walking, we have to leave the comfort zone, although we can skirt around in a circle and hit lovely parks and the edge of some University campus. But this time, I saw in the distance a big church so we walked that way.
That's what they do. They go to church early in the morning. The church court yard and the municipal park just across from it had some sort of fair set up. Kid's games, including the inflatable moon walk, booths with food, live music, banners, tacky rings of plastic flowers with metallic streamers. Behind the church and the park was a low brow shopping district, with a series of cobble stoned streets with shops on both sides and no cars allowed. They had pirate dvd's and cd's for sale, street musicians, food and drink vendors, clothing and tshirts spread out on blankets. There was a big market - looked like the French Market in NOLA had gone down hill considerably - in a giant quonset hut. There were hookers. There were grandmothers pushing prams. Teenage girls in skin tight jeans and t-shirts written in English or French in metallic ink. Teenage boys in baggy jeans and athletic t-shirts and baseball caps with soccer team names on backwards. Toddlers with dripping ice cream bars. The whole gammit of Campinas working class. We passed two of our recent waiters; we must have tipped well because they both waived enthusiastically and only one of them was totally drunk.
The smell of food was everywhere, a slightly greasy beefy and onions kind of smell, with overtones of spiciness. It makes me slightly feel slightly sick, not hungry, but to each his own. Partly that's cause it is getting quite hot - I would say it's in the mid 80's with tropical sun beating down. And it's 'winter'.
At 2PM the cops showed up to make everyone leave. On our way back, we passed the Hall of Justice (city court?) and they were taking down bleachers and such - I am assuming from what I saw on television that semi-military parades are the thing for today.
We have a dinner with the whole crew of IBM'ers who are staying here in the hotel. Some of them I know because they used to be at CCS. Can't wait. Dinner with American computer geeks in a rainforest full of skyscrapers. Bring me another one of those funny little drinks with all the limes, please, and that firewater made from sugar cane which is emphatically not rum.
Don't get me wrong, I'm having a good time. It's just all sort of surreal.
So, now I know. Happy Brazilian Independence Day every body.