I arrived in Sao Paulo just before mid-night, local time. I was to stay in Sao Paulo until 18 March for my flight to Porto Alegre where I would be based for the following 3 months to come. I had sent my old Brazilan friend a facebook message 2 days earlier that I would be in Sao Paulo. He responded and invited me to stay in his house. That was the last I heard heard from him and without his cellphone number or address the only way I could contact him was on facebook at mid-night after arrival in Sao Paulo.

I struggled to understand where and how I could use wifi but I managed to get online 30 minutes before the last bus would head into the city at 01:30 . I would either be lucky and get an immediate response from Junior, or spend the night in the airport. Fortunately, when I managed to get online Junior had already responded to a message I had sent before leaving SA requesting his cellphone number and address. At 01:30 I took the bus into the city and then a private taxi from there to Junior's house, which was not what I had been expecting it to be.

My bus ride into South America's largest metropolis revealed a city that looked old, neglected, worn-out and abused. All of the walls of all of the buildings on the street level were laden with black graffiti sprayed with the intention to vandalise rather than to make art. The buildings looked very dirty and mostly a grey or light grey/brown colour. With tropical vegetation growing wherever where there was some earth exposed, the combination of these elements gave the city the look of an abandoned jurassic city. It all seemed very dark until the bus passed through some areas of the city with bars and take-away shops, which were teaming with light and life at 2 in the morning . That was when I remembered how these huge South American cities work: it usually seems you are in a really dodgey part of the city most of the time, when the window shutters and metal door barricades are down, but as soon as they open, it's lively, happy and energetic. Sao Paulo seemed the iconic city of contrasts.

Next I found a taxi and showed the driver the address. It took them about 10 minutes to figure out where the address was, and they kept asking me whether I was sure that, that had been the address I wanted to go to. I said yes, but started to feel a bit uneasy amid the confusion. As we drove away fromt the sky scrapers we started into a poor residential area with busy bars on the street corners where there were about as many people inside as there were outside on the street. As the music faded it wasn’t long until more music up ahead started to get louder as we neared the next lively bar. We turned off the bigger road and into the darker residential streets where there were thousands of small paintless houses upon one another with no gaps in between and the odd stray dog crossing the street . I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, and especially sitting in a private taxi well polished and tidy, which certainly stood out in the area. We made it to #946, Junior’s house, where he was waiting outside in his PJ's. The nerves immediately settled, I hopped out and greeted my friend who I hadn’t seen in 6 years.

From that moment onward I have been more pleasantly surprised than what I could ever have imagined. Junior gave up his own room for me to stay in and over the following days I didn’t pay for a single thing.

The following morning Junior took me for a short walk through his neighbourhood, which with the light of day revealed a happy scene of children playing in the streets and families gathered nearby on the sidewalk in front of the little houses to talk and spend a Sunday chilling "in da hood". Junior knew all his neighbours as if they were family. As we walked toward the main road, we stopped at a few of his friends’ houses to introduce me and invite them to a Churrasgo (braai) we were going to have later at his Sister’s house . 

The coals for the Churrasgo were ready when we got to Junior’s sister’s house that evening. Her husband, Ericson was the Churrasgeiro (braaier). Paulo-Ricky, his son cut the large chunk of meat into thin steaks, Junior’s friend’s husband, Marcos made a marinade with beer, salt, soy oil, garlic and vinegar. Many people started to arrive and most of them were women: Junior’s 4 friends, 2 sisters, 3 cousins and some with a +1. Everybody sat in a circle behind the Churrasgeiro (braaier) and drank beer. I didn’t understand much but was generally able to breakdown what they were saying and responded in part Spanish and what I thought was Portuguese. They loved it when I would ask them to add a new word to my vocabulary book. My little red book saw many hands that night. Most words added were innocent.

The most interesting difference about their Churrasgo (braai) was the style in which the food was served from the Churrasgo . As soon as meat was ready, it was placed on a breadboard, cut into small pieces and the Churrasgeiro’s assistant (son) would go around to each person and offer them meat. There was constantly fresh hot strips of meet coming around all night long. I’ve never seen a pair of braaiers work as disciplined as what that father and son team did. I thought it was a great way of eating for that style of a party. No formalities, no stress about getting all the food ready at the same time, no salads, no side dishes, no plates etc. Just lots of small meat snacks coming around fresh off of the braai constantly.

Of course, once everybody had their fill of beer, one of the girls started making Caipirinhas and the girls decided they would teach Jovi how to Samba. I have never had so many women speaking to me at the same time in my life as then, and it was clear that none of them could comprehend that I just wasn’t able to pick-up the step in the first "class". I tried to ask them to show me the step slowly, but it didn’t work. I don’t think Brazilians are very used to having to teach someone how to dance, just like I would struggle to teach someone how to swallow food. They are all simply dancers from birth. 

The following night (17^th March) was my last in Sao Paulo. The entire family came to Juniors house for supper to see me off and the following morning I had an early flight to the capital of the yerba mate regions of Brazil, Porto Alegre where I would be based for the following months to come, learning Portuguese and starting my visits to yerba mate farms.

If you read all of this, "muito obrigado" (thank you very much) and I hope it was interesting for you too.