I arrive in Sao Paulo and the speed of city life almost takes me by suprise. The place is a mass of traffic, people, noise, and excitement. It has the feel of London and New York, mixed into a weird hybrid.
I am here for 3 reasons:
1. my flight has to come through here, so why not take a moment and look around the sprawling metropolis?
2. if you have a chance in life take it.
3. my dear friend is flying in from the states to DJ there on the same weekend so surely that's fate or something? And we get the chance to hang out in Brazil.
But first I get back into hostel life: dorm rooms, new people, fun, and drinking.
I look around the city and go to a few museums notebly the football museum in the 'Estadio Municipal Paulo machado de carvalho'
it's a impressive ground and through a stroke of luck there's a game being played there tonight, I ask the lady for the ticket and intimate to her that I'd like a seat in the stands, away from 'fanaticos' that fill the areas behind the goal.
Back at the hostel I meet 2 wicked Scotsmen who are up for the football and a drink after.
I get to the stadium for the 10pm kick off and walk around the ground twice because the stewards keep sending me the wrong way, eventually I find my gate.......right behind the goal mouth.
I am in the lions den of the 'fanaticos' and the atmosphere is immense. the sound is constant and pulsating, with drummers keeping the tempo on a constant high. It's the first time that I've been to a game where the singing has not stopped, they even have guys standing in front of different sections to orchestrate the fans, and to choose the songs and the waves. Yes, they have different waves that they do depending on what the rest of the crowd are doing.
The game goes well and 'we' win, me and the Scots (Rich and Ally) boys meet and head for a beers. It's agreed that will go to a nightclub called 'Vegas' recommended by the hostel.
We eventually find it on a boozy street lined with bars, sex shows/brothels, and nightclubs. And it is here where things got a little weird.
Firstly the nightclubs here have a very odd paying system for drinks, basically you give them your ID and then they give you a card. Then whenever you go to the bar you give them the card, they scan the barcode on the back, and you get your drinks.
It's a dangerous system that leads to bad things.
Rich, Ally, and myself get the drinks flowing, but in true South American fashion nobody goes out until 1am and we are a little early. By the time the crowd arrive we are fairly healthy drinkwise, but by no means legless. The boys keep going for smoking breaks so I start chatting to the Dj about 60s rock and soul.
And this is when it gets weird, the next thing I remember is trying to find the boys with the DJ, we can't find them and I feel really wasted, like proper body mashed. Not drunk, just a loss of coordination.
And then I don't remember anything.
The next thing I remember is standing in a street that is vaguely recognizable, in front of me is a chubby man wearing a tight white vest and bad jeans.
"where's my hostel from here? it's on 13 de maia" are the first words I say,
"No, no, we go to my casa, it's closer" says the guy,
"I'm not going to your house mate, where's the lime time hostel from here?" by this point I'm not even trying to speak slowly, or in patchy Spanish, I just sound like a vexed Londoner.
"Ok, I walk you there..........you very beautiful man" he replies while he tries to stroke the side of my face, I take a step back, and very quickly become very alert.
"Mate, thank you, but I want to get back to my hostel, how far is it? where can I get a taxi?"
"It's ok, it's this way, come, come"
And we walk down the street. After about 5 minutes of walking and him trying to chat me up I lose my temper,
"Mate, where the fuck is my fucking hostel? where the fuck are we going, and where the fuck are we? And who the fuck are you anyway? Where did you find me?" I must have lost it a little because he seemed quite taken aback,
"ok, we go into this hotel, call you a cab yes?"
We get into this hotel and the reception call me a cab, it arrives and vest man tries to hug me goodbye, I lightly push him away. He seems really hurt and walks off into the night.
I get back to the hostel at 6:40am, I wake the Ally and he says that they left at 4am, so I must have left the club before then becasue they looked high and low for me before they left.
Then they got into a fight with a midget doorman.
Later that weekend I will be told that it's very very common for men to put drugs into other mens drinks in order to 'get dealings'. They also say that it was lucky for me that I had a strong tolerance to drugs otherwise it would have been a lot worse. So at least my misspent youth has one thing going for it, it's saved me from getting 'intervered' with that night.
Brilliant.
My friend arrives and we head to dinner and drinks with a guy called Diego. He's wicked company and a really good guy. We get to the club which is considered one of the best in the world. The place is compact but looks amazing with giant LED EQs pulsating behind the bar and the decks
There I meet the other DJ playing, a guy called Benjamin. In the next couple of days I will quickly learn that Benny is possibly one of the sweetest and most wonderful people in Brazil.
I meet loads of people that night and they are all superb people, and I'm blessed that I've met so many nice people, and it cements my idea that good people know good people all around the world.
We drink and part the night away, sleep, eat, and sleep some more and very quickly the weekend comes to a end. My friend heads to the states, and me? I head towards Manaus for another 6 day trip through the amazon.
I get to the boat an hour before we leave and I relaize I've made a huge mistake, and that this time the trip is not going to be a picnic.
60% more people, all tough looking amazonians, lots more moody young fellas, drinking hard and staring at me and my stuff.
Obviously being a regular at this 'service boat through the amazon' malarkey I've rocked up an hour before we sail and there's nowhere to hang my new, bigger, softer, wider, more comfortable hammock. I glimpse a tiny spot and the second regret of the day hurtels through my brain,
"Why did I drop out of Cubs before we did knots?"
I stand there holding bits of rope like I've never seen rope before, looking at my hammock as if it was a crystal maze puzzle. Just before I start shouting 'get me out, get me out' a crew memeber literally pushes me out of the, whilst openly mocking me to the other passengers. He starts to hoist my hammock in about 4 inches of space between 2 other hammocks, the female owners sit aghast at the closeness of space, and all the crewman does is gesticulate that I'm next to some lovely ladies, and that I should get 'stuck in'. He then pats me on the back and wanders off whistling.
About a minute before we pull away one of my new neighbours gets up, hugs the other one, and gets off the boat.
2 minutes later a large, swarthy, battle scarred, gentleman rocks up and stares at his hammock, then my hammock, then the tiny distance between them, then at the girl, and finally at me. His face is clouded with the very cealr notion that I am invading his personal space, and that I will pay for this intrusion.
Will I get thrown overboard? Will I get physical with the lady? Will my hammock stay up? Will I ever get to a place in the world where they don't play Lady Ga Ga and David Guetta?
I'll let you know as soon as I get more time............
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