Going grey

If all the guide books were to be believed, I´d be lucky to be leaving Sao Pualo with anything. Instead, ahead of tonight´s 16 hour bus journey to Foz Do Iguacu, I have all my belongings and more importantly, a whole load of happy memories.

Yours truly and Ciaran set off from Paraty on Wednesday morning, slightly hungover from a few beers the night before, but at least we made the bus on time. We travelled on an ´Executivo´, the middle range form of coach transport in Brazil. The seats reclined almost fully and there was acres of leg room, so I was suitably content despite the 6 hour journey that lay ahead.

The time seemed to speed along fairly quickly and the only real moment of interest was an over-turned bin lorry we passed on our way up towards the winding roads into the cloud covered mountains.

Although I understood Sao Paulo to be a meteorological relative of Manchester, in that it is generally covered in grey skies and drizzle, to my surprise, we were greeted with blazing sunshine and not a trace of rain to be seen.

After finding a map and configuring it to the location of our hostel, we jumped on the metro and headed south to Ana Rosa station. With a little help from some finger-pointing locals, we were soon inside the comfy surrounds of Olah Hostel and the ever helpful owner Rodrigo.

We headed up the road to a wonderful cafe that was both cheap and hospitable, and I sunk three huge pizza slices and a couple of Skols in a matter of minutes. On our return to the hostel, we tuned into Uruguay v Argentina on the TV and enjoyed a comforting mug of herbal tea. When the full time whistle blew, we pondered whether to hit the sack or go risk our lives with a stroll through the city. We opted for the latter.

The first part of our journey involved me sitting half on Ciaran´s knee in a van, as we were taken to a multi-storey car park exit where another kind chap gave us tickets for the Friday practise session of the Brazilian Grand Prix. From here we strolled up Avenida Paulista and eventually landed ourselves in an Irish bar by the name of O´Malley´s. To our joy, we found a pool table and soon we were competing with the finest that Sao Paulo had to offer. I once again held my own while Ciaran upset a few locals and beat most of them, which brought a gleaming smile to his cheeky little face. The forty five minute walk back at 2AM was peaceful and without drama.

On Thursday morning, with the help of Rodrigo, we used a metro-bus combo to find the Morumbi Stadium, home of Sao Paulo FC. As É Tricolor were playing on Saturday night, we promptly bought ourselves a pair of tickets and went for a wander inside the stadium. To summarise, it was similar to the Maracana in Rio but a little smaller and with no roof. What did impress me was the amount of foliage surrounding the pitch. There were flower beds seemingly everyhwere and they even appeared to have there own version of Alan Titchmarsh, working away as we surveyed the impressive sight before us.

I also discovered that in the locality, the great Aryton Senna was buried. For a good forty minutes, we wandered the streets, asking for the `cemitario` and eventually we thought we´d found it. Sadly, it was the wrong one. Nevertheless, we caught a taxi and after an anxious few minutes driving through a favela (minus tour guide and security), we found Morumbi Cemtery and Senna´s final resting place. It was spacious and he looked to have landed the best spot, in the centre and under a big tree.

Our next encounter was with the Sao Paulo transport system, or lack of. The bus back into the city seemed to take an eternity, with both me and Ciaran having decent naps at alternating stages. As their metro system isn´t half as big as it should be, everybody´s in cars or buses, causing huge traffic jams around every corner of the city.

Finally we arrived in the city centre where we located their equivalent of the Empire State Building, from where you can get panoramic views of pretty much the entire state. In order to go up the BANESPA building, you needed proof of ID but being the safety conscious travellers that we are, we´d left our passports at the hostel. We walked away deflated.

With the F1 in the morning, we had a fairly quiet evening with a couple of beers in Villa Madalena.

With Friday upon us, again we headed off on a bus, this time to the Interlagos race circuit. The journey lasted an hour and again it felt like a lifetime. We did make it though for around 10AM and were instantly greeted with the deafening sound of the Formula One cars.

We wandered beside the favelas and police, as we made our way round half the track to find our gate entrance and seats. The weather was overcast and it wasn´t too busy so I had a field day getting pictures with both my cameras. Here we stayed for around five hours, enjoying this rare and exciting experience, all for around the same price as a one way train ticket to Stoke.

The bus back to the city lasted a mind-numbing two hours and we also had the pleasure of sharing a close proximity with a group of giggling Brazilian students. The best part was passing the airport which was probably the most colourful thing I´d seen in the city.

Once more we had tea at the cafe up the road, then we were picked up by Sylvia (a local girl we´d met in Paraty) and she took us to the swanky and pretentious Skye Bar. It was great for views over the city as the bar was on the roof and here we chatted and had a few overpriced bottles of Sol.

Saturday started slowly and we mainly hung out here in the hostel before again getting picked up by Sylvia to take us to the football. Although the atmosphere didn´t quite match the one in Rio, it was still very entertaining. We also had the benefit of a translator this time, so we could understand all the chants, which we endeavoured to join in with when we could. The game itself was a lot quicker than what we´d witnessed between Flamengo and Fluminense and this in part, was probably down to the weather. Although it did lash it down for a while, the rain did stay away for most of the match and the air was pretty cool. The away team, Atletico Mineiro, won the match 1-0, but the home supporters didn´t seem too uspet and were content banging their drums and waving their hands.

To round off the day, we were taken to Favela Bar and another little drinking whole where we downed as many beers as we could.

Finally, today, I´m all packed for this evening´s ride to Iguacu Falls and within a few days, Argentina, where in my mind, this trip will really begin. In the meantime, I´ve had a whale of a time in this grey and dangerous city.