I wrote about a month ago about how much I enjoy airplanes and spend at least seventy percent of the time looking out of the window. Strike that. That was before my first Trans Asia – trans Atlantic flight. A twenty five hour flight can take things out of you that you never thought possible. Aaaargh.

I’m in Sao Paulo for a month and over this month I’m going to write down a bit every day about it. But before I do that, there something I want to get out of the way. I’ve been meaning to put this down on paper for some time but kept postponing it. Articulating abstract thought is definitely not my cup of tea (I actually prefer coffee) but I would imagine it’s a kind of catharsis that would be useful in the long run. So many times I’ve regretted not putting down something that I know that I’ll forget two days later. At that time the explanation seems so simple and obvious. Like when I’m reading a book and suddenly understand why a character said something. Or when I’m watching a movie and it suddenly dawns on me what exactly the movie’s about. But by the next morning I’ve forgotten. I’ll give you an example. There’s this saying that I read somewhere; “When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you – Frederic Neitzsche, I think”. There was a moment of clarity one day when I understood completely and exactly what it meant. But now it’s slipped away from me and I can’t quite put my finger on it. All of us have these have these moments of clarity sometimes, don’t we? When we are sure that we understand something complex, in its entirety. And the explanation is painfully obvious; simple even; like it’s been staring at us in the face waiting to be discovered. But before you know it, it slips away. What you need to do is to grab on to it and put it under lock and key. I don’t claim to know a least bit about Buddha but I can imagine what he must have felt like, under that tree. I can understand what Nirvana means. But these little mini nirvanas keep slipping away from me.

I was in Sikkim about 2 years ago in November. And it was cold. Very cold. I was on my way to this place called Yumthang (a valley of rhododendrons in the Himalayas). We had a night halt at this place (Lhachung) before we were to drive on to Yumthang. I had never seen snow in my life and was very excited about it. That night however, in my memory, was the most hideously uncomfortable night that I’d ever spent in my life. It was only -4 degrees but I’m from a place (Bangalore) where it never goes below 14 degrees in winter. And that’s considered cold! There’s always this question that people ask you; “Would you rather be too hot or too cold?” My answer for that had always been; “Too Cold! You can do nothing about heat, but you can always put on a sweater when you’re cold, cant you?” But no amount of sweaters that I wore that night helped and I literally counted the seconds till dawn. Ever so often there someone up there who makes sure you eat your words. Which is I think the most important lesson any person learns when going from their teens into the twenties. You just don’t know where life’s going to take you and what surprises it has in store for you. DO NOT TEMPT FATE.

Well anyway, the night passed and we all got on the jeep towards our destination. Got to Khatau and saw snow for the first time in my life. I was, and I’ll use a silly American word here, under whelmed. All I could think was to take a couple of photos and get back in the jeep to go on to Yumthang. Got to Yumthang took a couple of snaps, walked around a little bit and firmly ensconsed myself back in the jeep again. It was only on the way back when I was sitting in the flight from Calcutta back to Bangalore that I realized what I’d missed. It suddenly dawned on me that I’d been to a truly beautiful place and I was consumed by the urge to go back immediately because I was sure that I had missed something. Why is it, that when I was actually physically present at the beautiful, amazing and surreal Yumthang all I could think of was shutter speed, aperture, filter and composition? Why the FUCK do these things always have to hit you in retrospect?

Oh I went back to Bangalore and boasted about my trip to everyone (“Ooooh, I saw the first rays of the sun hit the Khanchenjunga”, “Yumthang is fabulous” – I’m boasting again here so I’ll stop). Showed them my photographs, slides, the trinkets etc. But in my mind, I knew that I hadn’t been there. I had only seen the place, I had not felt it.

This actually brings me to the point I am trying to make. Why is it that I didn’t try and get under the skin of the place? Why is it that I must attach a sense of achievement to travel? Why is it so important to tell people exactly what I did? Most importantly why do I need to quantify everything? Why do people travel? If it is to broaden the mind why do most of us only end up taking photographs and arranging them in fancy albums? Isn’t what you feel and remember in your head infinitely more important than what you capture on film? Travel makes us understand other people and places better. And a better understanding of the world is important, especially in these bushist times.

I have made a promise to myself not to repeat what happened in Sikkim. But I know I’ll break it. Actually in writing this I’m already breaking it. But in the long run it’s always a good thing to put down on paper what’s going on in your head. It helps you sort it out a little bit because you have to break it down and it’ll hopefully make for happy reading many years later. And who knows, someone else might actually get a kick out of it!

So, I’m in Sao Paulo for about a month and my first impressions are that it’s a lot like Mumbai (Bombay). Being a little bit of a country bumpkin (I’m from Bangalore) I’m quite overwhelmed by the feeling when I go to a big city. All of us need to be picked up and shaken up a little bit sometimes. It’s ridiculous how much the human psyche craves routine. Travel does that to you. It pulls you, kicking and scratching, out of that shell that you can’t wait to crawl into. And in my opinion that’s a good thing.

The first thing that strikes me about Brazil is the ethnic diversity. You have all kinds of people here, whites, yellows, browns and blacks (momentarily putting aside political correctness) living in (what at least at the moment seems to me) perfect harmony. It’s a different kind of diversity from India. Everyone in India looks the same BUT could speak a different language, be of a different religion, caste, state. There are just too many things that divide us, yet we stick together. Brazil seems to be similar on that count at least.

I’ve done my share of googling on Sao Paulo and I was immediately struck by what I read on a web site. “Brazil is relatively peaceful and is not a victim of terrorism”. But then I learned that Sao Paulo has a huge crime problem. The level of security at each office and apartment building speaks for itself. But then, isn’t crime also terrorism, albeit of a different kind? If you have people building15 foot high walls (with electrified barb wire) around their houses and people who permanently need other people with guns to protect them; are they not being terrorized? And this kind of terrorism is worse; because it comes from within the people themselves.

Look at me; sermonizing, when I live in one of these walled gardens myself entirely comfortable in an apartment that has a wooden floor with a lady who comes in and irons my clothes everyday.

The funny thing is that this was the first time I actually saw a policeman with a gun at such close range. An actual gun. It looked innocuous, innocent and cute. Small enough to fit in a little pouch. Guns were bigger in my imagination until now. Just a piece of metal; but a piece of metal if used a particular way could blow my brains out. When it comes to guns I’d rather be naïve than worldly wise. Might seem a little stupid, but the kind of policemen I’m used to have the following characteristics

· They all wear Khaki
· They all have a moustache (I can bet you won’t find a single policeman in India without a moustache – if you do, I’ll grow one myself. I might get divorced in the process though. My wife tells me that her only criteria for marrying me was that I didn’t have a moustache. And the day I decide to grow one is the day I can kiss her good bye. And she’s only half joking.
· They all have paunches
· And most carry lathis

Coming from this background it’s a little funny looking at so many people walking around carrying guns.

From one first to another. I was walking along Paulista Avenue (Sao Paulo’s main thoroughfare) and my friend got robbed right in front of my eyes. For the first few moments I didn’t even realize what had happened. Two guys came up from behind him, when we had just crossed a zebra crossing and were among lots of people. Then one guy pushed him, quickly put a hand in his pocket and robbed him of R$ 200. He then dropped some phony currency on the road and scooted. We were busy gathering the phony currency (thinking it had fallen out of his pocket) and then realized what had happened. Poor guy lost R$ 200. “This is the second time that this is happening to me”, he told me later. “The first time was in Argentina when a thief grabbed my camera and tried to run away from me. But I chased him and caught him”. “What? You chased him?”

I don’t know if I would have it in me to chase a thief to retrieve my stolen property from him. Maybe I would. If any one put their hand on my Nikon SLR, I’m sure they would stir up a sleeping giant (Not giant. But slightly overweight).

Having lunch with my Chinese colleagues is always an interesting experience. They always seem to be interested in what I have to say. In fact most Chinese will perk up when you tell them you’re from India. I don’t know why that is. Recorded below are some verbatim conversations that I have with Chinese guys.

Conversation #1 (During lunch)

Chinese Guy: “Do you pppay yog”
Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you’re trying to say”
Chinese Guy: “Doooo youuuu pppppppayyyyyy yog”
Me: Same response, with arms thrown up into the air.
Chinese Guy: “Do you ppplay yog”
Me: (After applying a decoding algorithm to this): “Oh! Yoga”
Me: (In my mind). Not really in the mood to tell him that we don’t “play” yoga. So I just keep quiet. Instead I say. “Yes. Sometimes”
Chinese Guy: “Oh! What level are you at”
Me: “I don’t really think you have levels” (The last time I checked – which was never)
Chinese Guy: “Can you touch your head to your feet”
Me: Trying to form a mental picture of what the guy means. I decide to lie. “I used to. Not any more”
Chinese Guy: Goooood. Gooooood.

Conversation #2

This one is with my roommate. Every morning we ride down the lift together and wait for the bus to pick us up. This is a conversation I had with him on the very long ride down from the ninth floor to the ground floor.

Roommate: “Do you like my shirt?”
Me: “Yes. It’s nice”
Roommate: “I think it very handsome”
Me: “Yup. I think so too”
Roommate: “A little.”
Me: “A little what?”
Roommate: “A little handsome”
Roommate: “Why your eye so red?”
Me: “Don’t know, I must have rubbed it very hard”. (By this time we are out of the lift and waiting for the bus. It’s a cool crisp morning with a crystal blue sky. I have every reason to feel good about the general state of life the universe and everything. Which is pretty much a valid reason to be quite bummed about the rest of the conversation)
Roommate: “Today your left eye red. Tomollow your right eye red. Tommollow… Tommollow your nose red. Then your mouth red. Then you die (accompanied by a little jig). So you give me all your money”
Me: “No. If I die, I give my wife all my money. Not you”

Actually, I really like this guy. He’s a lot of fun.

I was quite keen to watch a football (futbol) match. Being that my window was next to the biggest private stadium in Brazil (Morumbi). I didn’t know that actually. I found out later from someone in office. I was actually walking distance from the place! Went and stood in the queue and bought a ticket for myself. “Do you want an orange one or blue one”, the lady, whose face I could not see at all, asked. “Umm… whichever is the better one please”, I said. “Ok. Take the orange one, its good”

And with huge expectations I walked into the stadium. It was Sao Paulo versus Santos. Luckily I was sitting along with the Sao Paulo supporters and they won. It’s was not really my first experience sitting with 50,000 crazed fans screaming their lungs out as I’ve been to my share of cricket matches. I can make the following observations though. Brazilians are as crazy about football as Indians are about cricket. But for the fact that that they seem to be more organized in their madness than Indians, there’s no difference. They must have at least 20 different kinds of cheers; for every situation. And here’s a scary thing. When they cheer all of them jump up and down in their places and the whole stadium shakes. Shakes. Literally. I wonder if the structural engineers factored that into their design. I hope they did.