I win!

Today I won the lottery. Can you see it?


Actually, it was just that the weather was good - slightly overcast, but still clear, with a promise of rain. Then finding myself a patch of actual real live GRASS to sit on! Most places here don't allow you near the grass, but I saw someone sitting on the grass and rushed over to grab my share.

I got a call from an old student this morning. "Teacher, I'd like to have class again." I got the feeling he had spent some time practising the request. When I last taught him, I was ill-equipped to teach someone that basic. It'll go better this time.

The wind is picking up now. The two old duckies have gotten up, not stopping their deep discussion. The girl sitting on her towel at the other end of my green patch is still reciting. At first, I thought she was talking to herself, but it seems she's reciting lines of some sort. Maybe she's a famous actress I don't know about? Or maybe she is just talking to herself. There are less baby walkers now. The last lot was when they wheeled grandpa and junior side by side - two very different chairs. There's a pretty little black bird hovering. He won't tell me his name. And yes, I did ask.


Speaking of birds, they have a tree here with 'birds' hanging in it. Stands to wonder that this was the only tree without any real birds. What were they thinking?

Ok, clouds are pulling over in earnest now. I'll leave the grass to the birds and ants and head into the overpriced shopping centre. Dang little hooligan... we have close to 100% humidity today and he felt the need to activate the humidifier - a gadget that pumps out mist for when São Paulo goes into dry mode.

Later... (the above was copied from my notebook I carry around)

Before leaving, I walked around the park a little. Some people's idea of art truly makes me scratch my head. I found this furniture 'graveyard' - at least, that's what I assume it was meant to be. There were no helpful signs.


A somewhat more 'artistic' display (though still head-scratch worthy), was the one with the books in the water. Odd indeed!




A close-up of the books... an art book, a music book and a hand-written book.
Some friendly dinosaur came along and left some art too....



At the shopping centre, a woman collects her beribboned pom-pom. As they leave, little froufrou is 'watering' the pavement. 'Mom' froufrou blew me away when she bent down each time to wipe little froufrou's bum. Now I love dogs and babies and baby dogs, but...


Photo shamelessly pilfered from the net
Pampered has new meaning here. I mean, in the pet shop and pooch parlour inside, they sold things like Chownel No. 5 - a fluffy toy for pampered pooch in question - Cost? R$154!! That's about US$90. They had some other big names there too, like Yves St Laurent. A canopied bed? Diamond-studded collars (praying those were just glass... didn't have the courage to check the price tag).

Further along into my day found me at another end of the same neighbourhood with a different type of 'art'. This bus never moves from there and the girl making and selling jewellery is also a fixture.


I went home in heavy rain just a couple of hours after this last photo. The water in our street was up over my ankles and it smelled really bad. I think the sewer, that the people here call a river, had overflowed. It was a case of 'strip off at the door and walk straight into the shower'. All clothes and shoes went straight off to be washed.

The next night's class had me walking along a stretch that had some new artwork, graffiti of a more pleasing sort...


It was a good excuse to see what the cell phone could do after dark : )

Tarnished gilt

While I was looking for photos for this blog, I found another blog here. Below is a direct quote, which I found incredibly amusing. Tat will appreciate it. The photo is from that blog too.

~ : ~ : ~: ~ : ~

“Aqui é Santa Cecília?”
“Segundo os correios, é...”
“...”
“Na verdade, depende. Algumas quadras são na Consolação e outras são em Santa Cecília.”
“Mas se eu disser pra alguém que moro em Santa Cecília, essa pessoa irá até a Santa Cecília.”
“Pode ser que ela me encontre, afinal eu trabalho em Santa Cecília.”
“Por via das dúvidas, use 'moro na Angélica', aí não tem erro.”
“Oficialmente, não existe Higienópolis, nem Pacaembu. Só Consolação e Santa Cecília.”

~ : ~ : ~: ~ : ~
The one area I teach in is considered a 'bairro nobre' or 'noble neighbourhood'. Higienópolis. The quote above is a conversation about finding directions in Higienópolis. It's one of those peculiar neighbourhoods where everyone wants to have it as an address, but most around there live in the 'lesser' neighbourhoods of Consolação, Santa Cecilia and even further 'down', Marechal Deodoro.

Most of São Paulo is sectorised.... split into 'sectors'. Italians cluster together in their corner. Jews in another. Lithuanians claim a hilltop of their own. Business-minded Japanese prefer the heart of the city.

There's also sectorised shopping, whole neighbourhoods, streets or blocks, each specialising in one product or product range. A few blocks in town will give me countless shops selling sewing machines or sewing machine repair shops and spares, including a place to print out patterns. There's a road dedicated to jeans, another to hairdressing equipment. A whole few blocks lays claim to being a bride-to-be's Mecca. Just a little further will be the destination of restaurateurs and serious cooks. I wonder if there's any significance in the fact that the bridal sector is decidedly seedy.

For today, I was focussed on the 'bairro nobre'. The vast contrast between the one end and the other takes me by surprise every time. On the one end, you have your well-healed 'old money'. On the other end, you just have the 'old' part of that statement with money only scattered among those who've been there too long and are now too old to move.

In the front hall of the apartment block is an artists interpretation - you know they kind the designers toss out before a building goes up - of what was supposed to be a very nice complex. I walk in through the peeling gates, then some sliding glass doors into the entrance hall. To my left is an arrangement of plastic arum lilies that badly need dusting. There are two couches straight out of a 70's pawn shop. I doubt they've been moved since they were put there 3 or 4 decades ago. The picture on the wall is smallish, an obscure scenic painting, with an ornate gilt frame almost as thick as the picture is wide. The lift is small and very old, as is the rest of the building, creaking as it goes up. The equally creaking gate opens at my floor.

On the other end of the neighbourhood, I am allowed entry through double security gates by a security guard I doubt I'll ever see. I walk along the sweeping cobbled horseshoe drive to the entrance. The decor is simple and tasteful, one or two carefully chosen antiques. So different from the apartments on the other end of the 'hood'. Strangely, though, the buildings come from the same 'era'.