Rio de Janeiro

From the plane, you can see houses lined along private streets, with towers scattered everywhere. A contrasting mix that shapes the city’s landscape.
The first shop at the airport is Pão de Queijo. That’s when you realize where Starbucks got their little cheese breads from. These existed long before them.
On the streets, small tubular metal structures hold trash bags in place, preventing them from being displaced by the wind or rain. A simple yet effective system.
The SESC, social centers accessible with a membership card, bring multiple services together under one roof. Depending on the floor, you’ll find a documentation center, a dentist, a gym, and badminton courts. The one in downtown even had a climbing wall on the 6th floor and a rooftop pool. Patience is required to access it, but Paulistas have plenty.

The Japanese district, born from immigration after World War II, is massive. It’s home to one of the largest Japanese communities in the world. Walking through, you see faces blending Japanese and Brazilian features, a fusion reflected in the neighborhood’s atmosphere.
Here, beer is always ice-cold. It’s often sold in large bottles, placed in insulated holders to keep it chilled. If it’s not cold enough, Brazilians prefer to wait for it to cool down rather than drink it lukewarm.
Here, beer is always ice-cold. It’s often sold in large bottles, placed in insulated holders to keep it chilled. If it’s not cold enough, Brazilians would rather wait for it to cool down than drink it lukewarm.
The Pixadores practice pixo, a graffiti style with sharp, angular lines inspired by hard rock logos and, according to them, ancient alphabets. They tag the most visible facades, taking risks to earn recognition in their community. The higher the risk, the greater the respect.

Cameras are everywhere, even in neighborhoods monitored by private security companies. Some of them can be accessed through paid apps, offering real-time surveillance.
São Paulo is a New York of the South, with a Gotham City vibe—hyper-modern, a chaotic mix of styles and eras layered on top of each other.”
On the bus, there’s the driver, but also another person in the middle collecting fares and letting passengers through a turnstile.
In the city center, metal trash enclosures are locked to prevent the homeless from rummaging through them.
Every Friday night, Santa Cecilia Square, like many other squares, comes alive with a roda de samba. White, Black—everyone gathers around the musicians, singing and dancing in unison.
The top samba schools rehearse weekly at the Sambadrome, a long avenue lined with grandstands. There are two in Brazil—one in São Paulo and the larger one in Rio. One of the oldest troupes, Vai-Vai, has 5,000 members. It takes them an hour to parade from one end to the other. As soon as they exit, the next school enters from the same side.

Here, you don’t joke with the police. And you definitely don’t try to bribe them.
A classic urban Sunday outing: walk along Minhocão, an elevated peripheral road cutting through the city center between tall buildings, then head to the Centro market for a pastel de carne seca com abóbora (dried beef with pumpkin pastry), washed down with coconut or sugarcane juice. An urban delight.
At 5:30 PM, in front of the train station by the Pinacoteca, a flood of workers crowds the platforms, standing at the edge of the tracks, unfazed, in an orderly calm. The station is spotless—not a piece of trash in sight. With its brick and metal architecture, the renovated old station evokes an Old World capital in the age of steam engines. And just outside, homeless people, prostitutes, and police share the same street. The contrast is jarring, everything pressed together.
Here, the atmosphere is already relaxed, frustration-free. Carnival is just the peak of it: partying, dancing… “Carnival is made for hooking up,” our friend tells us the night before we leave.