Fumbling Our Way Through...

So we’re at Okupe Hostel, feeling good about our hostel choice.   We have access to the internet, breakfast, and friendly travelers to talk to.  The area we’re staying at is called Vila Mariana.  It’s a nice neighborhood in Sao Paulo. It’s got pretty much everything we’d need, restaurants, grocery stores, mini markets, banks, post office, pharmacy… those basic things.  It’s a pretty clean place too, good roads, and the people are kind.  We still resort to our sign language to get ourselves around, 40% success rate I’d say in communication, awesome!   There are two major roads that we walk around Domingos and Franca Pinto. Domingos is really busy, that’s where the buses run, the gas stations are and, of course, McDonalds! (We will not be eating at any of these, in case you were concerned).  We use that street mainly for the super market. Franca Pinto has become one of our favorite streets in Vila Mariana.  It’s a lot slower, lots of people just strolling around, there are many high-rise condos, and we’ve found nice little cafés, a decent market where we can buy bottled water and veggies.  Some of the well-known sites we visited include Parque Ibirapuera (Ibirapuera Park) and the Obelisk.

Condo Central

Homes on Franca Pinto

The walk to the park was 3.8km from our Hostel, so we got to see a lot of this area of SP.  Walking down the street you realize that SP is incredibly diverse. There are all ranges of skin tone, face shape, hair texture…etc. And from what we've seen everyone seems to get along great! So refreshing! So yeah, we too can pass as Brazilians.  Anyhow, so we make it to park (faking some Portuguese to get there).  This park is about the size of Piedmont Park in Atlanta.  Actually built within the park are several Museums. There’s a lake, walking paths, playgrounds, bicycle rentals, big trees to chill under, and of course, plenty of people enjoying it. We spent about an hour there taking pictures and what not. While we were in the park we heard drummers playing, possibly from a Samba school (everyone’s getting ready for Carnival season).  Across the street from the park is a huge obelisk that  was closed to public.  I believe it is the biggest monument in the city and is a symbol of the Constitutionalist Revolution that occurred in 1932.

View of Sao Paulo

Mural at the Museum of Modern Art

Oca Auditorium which holds art exhibits

Parque Ibirapuera

As Muthoni’s cold was not getting any better and her voice was showing no sign of coming back (it’s been 4 days), we decided to go to the pharmacy for some medicine.  On Wednesday night at about 8pm we walk up to Domingos Rd which has several pharmacies. When we get onto the street, we find every single store either closing their doors (security grills and all) or already closed… it’s only 8:15 (I guess we can’t assume everywhere has a 24-hr CVS! Lol!).  So yeah, we go back “home” and try the next day. You don’t need a prescription for what the U.S. calls over the counter medicine but you have to ask the pharmacist for it. Rats!!! This means we have to talk. So out comes our great Portuguese thanks to the app on our iPod.  Eu precisoso xarope. (I need cough medicine.) We would have been fine if he just handed us the stuff, but he started asking questions… Muthoni and I look at each other dumbfounded.  And I looked at the ipod hoping that it would generate some answers.  The other pharmacy workers behind the counter look at us with that “what are these guys doing?” look. How in the world are we going to get medicine if we can’t answer them.  Finally the guy switches to Spanish “Fumar?” He says. Oh. Okay. I think we’re getting somewhere Mu.  “No fumar.”  “Just tosse (cough)”.  I think he realizes that anything specific isn’t going to get across so he goes in the back and grabs a generic cough medicine explains to us the dossage. Okay, great.  Then we ask for a specific brand of cough syrup (recommended by one of our friendly hostel buddies).  That was supposed to be easy, but then… he asked us another question… Aye dios mio, we don’t understand… then we catch the word limon (the other pharm workers are laughing at the guy helping us… “Limon? Ha ha ahahaha!”  I guess that’s not Portuguese, but to us, ha, we know what that is.  Then he repeats “Limon? Minta?”  Minta please.  Praise the Lord we found we needed.  “Abrigado (thank you)”, we say.  “Muy dia (good day)”, he replies.   And that’s that.

I also went to post office to send a package that I’d brought for one of my bros who lives in Brazil.  What a disaster.  I get there, approach the counter.  This time I was prepared with the translator listing all the important things I’d need to say at the post office.  “Can you help me?” “I need to send this package.” “Can I use this box?” “I want to send it at the lowest cost.” “How much does it cost?”  Yeah, no bueno here either.  Soon as I put my package on the counter she disappears behind the counter and and reappears with packaging paper. She says a bunch of stuff that I take to understand as “You can’t send that box like that.  You need to wrap it. Here’s the paper, here’s the tape, and here are the scissors. You can wrap it over there.”  (We’d found the box on one of our walks along Franco Pinto... on garbage pick up day J).  So I take the paper and wrap up the box. Then I return to the counter (same girl because I feel comfortable that she realizes I need help and is willing to do so.)   She starts asking me questions…. (Aye, the questions! Why are there always questions I don’t have a clue how to answer.)  I respond with what I think works, “No frango Portuguese.”  In my mind I’m saying “I don’t speak Portuguese.”  She looks at me like “You don’t have a clue.” Yeah, that was way WRONG.  Frango means chicken. (I didn’t realize what I’d said until I got back home.)   Then she starts pointing in directions … I think that means out… oh, “where am I sending it?”  Yeah, here’s the address... where do I write it?  I show her the address and she point to the top of the box. So I write the address.  “Nome?”  Oh, right, Hugo.   Then she points at me and flips the box over (nothing fragile, no worries) and points to the box… Okay, that must be my return address… (good thing I grabbed the address of the Hostel, my home away) put it down.  Then she puts in the scale and it reads 2kg.  She takes out a tape measure and measures the length, width and height (I think that’s the girth? – see Brian Regan’s sketch on girth, I’m chuckling as I write this… ha ha ha… measure that girth.) Anyhow, she takes all those numbers down on slip of paper, goes to a computer and computes.  She comes back and shows me a number $R56.something (that’s Reals, pronounced “Hay – eyes”.  No, no, no… (lowest cost, what’s the lowest cost).  That $R56 was for next day.  There was another number $R21.90.  7days.  Okay, yes that one.  And just for good measure I show her the iPod where it says “Send at the lowest cost.”  I hand her $R25, she does that universal “hold on” gesture and she takes off to the back with my package and cash.  She was taking a while so I look around the post office. Other customers sending packages, workers working, guard standing on the wall behind the counter with some sort of body shield he’s standing behind with a pistol on his waist.  “Woah, I’d better not trip in here, no telling what I look like making all sorts of gestures, looking somewhat frustrated, sending a package. Could be lights out.”  Anyhow, she comes back gives me my change and says “abrigado.”  Yes, abrigado… Abrigado, abrigado, abrigado.  Then I pull out my walkie talkie and contact Mu (yes, I said walkie talkie!). “All Clear. I’m coming back.” 

Neighborhood.  Not many homes have garages so lots of street parking.