The Pizza Incident

We stop for a beer and discuss what we would like to eat. I feel like eating pizza. A nice, simple Margherita pizza. That will be easy to find. There is an advert in a tourist leaflet about an Italian round the corner from a bar we are in and decide to have a look. The district where it is located is in Jardins, which is reportedly one of the more pleasant neighbourhoods in Sao Paulo. We are quite peckish so head towards it, but it takes a lot longer than we expected. When we get there we look at the menu and each pasta dish is at least £30. Thirty quid for Spaghetti Bolognese? You-are-having-a-laugh. We ask if they serve pizza and are told a firm no while we are looked upon as peasants. OK then, there must be somewhere else that services pizza round here – it can’t be that hard to find, one of the most commonly served foods in the whole world…in the third biggest city.

We walk a little further and stop at a bar/restaurant selling a range of things including pizza. At last, a sit down, a drink and some food. We order some steak for the mister and a Margherita pizza for myself. The young waiter who is dressed in a throw back fifties outfit like the guy in the café from Back to the Future (he looks odd because all his colleagues are dressed in normal clothing) takes our order and disappears. Sometime later we get some beer…then we wait..and wait…and wait.

After half an hour we are wondering where are bloody food is and are tittering on the stage of hanger… we enquire where are food might be to another waiter who tells us that they are not serving food anymore and that they don’t serve pizza in the evenings anyway.  What's that sorry? The mister then has a tense conversation with the manager who apologises for the fuck up, shouts at fifties throw back and tells us that we will get the food anyway. I want to go but the Mister has reached desperate hangry mode and needs to stay. 15 minutes later some steak arrives…which me and the mister share because I feel myself resembling a hypoglycemic.  There is no pizza. I want to leave. I am getting really angry now and Mr Manager can see it in my face. He gets down on his knees, as though he is begging for forgiveness and tells me it’s coming for the fifth time in twenty minutes. How long does a fucking pizza take to make in Brazil anyway? Five minutes later the chef comes out and tells me that they don’t have Margherita, despite it being on the menu but I can have it with bacon on it.

WHHHAT? Is this man an actual chef or has he just been dragged off the street? Has he even ever SEEN a pizza? Because, he clearly is unaware that a Margherita pizza consists of cheese, tomato and a bread base – it is the basis for all pizzas. I am so pissed off, I say nothing, scowl, pay for my drinks and walk out.

By 22.00 I still haven’t eaten – we go to a pizza restaurant round the corner from our hotel. The pizza comes within 10 minutes (bit suspect to me, but past caring), which is basically a pizza base with about three inches of mozzarella on it...and about a droplet of tomato sauce.

The next day we leave Sao Paulo. We haven’t taken any photos but find a suitable one at the bus station which sums up the way we feel about the place.

What's wrong with Sao Paulo?

The Mister is going to Sao Paulo University to play on some rock machines and since it’s the third biggest city in the world I figure that I should accompany him on this trip – despite being told it’s a shit hole I would like to see it for myself.

Not feeling too well, I decide to stay in the area where our hotel is on the first day. Close to the University, Pinheiros has a bohemian feel to it - it is nice, I like it. I appreciate seeing a working city in operation and imagine what it might be like to live there. There is graffiti art on the walls, independent boutiques, bars and a shop where you can stay in forever reading English language books and listing to CDs without actually buying anything so I like it. There are not many things that I am desperate to see in Sao Paulo so it is sort of refreshing to just relax somewhere.

Yes, well, the next day we decide to go and see some sights. Since we have no itinerary or 'must sees' we are not expecting a stressful day. Also, Lonely Planet says that the food is great in Sao Paulo and its metro system is one of the best in the world, which is great as the public transport system I have so far seen in Brazil isn’t exactly on top form so this will make a change.

Sao Paulo’s metro turns out to be one of the most annoying transport systems I’ve ever experienced. There doesn’t seem to be any staff on hand to help you, It is really confusing. There seem to be about a million people all trying to get to the same place at once in record time. I think of the London Underground, another metro system which is often complained about. In comparison to this, it is almost a relaxing experience. At least Londoners have certain awareness of personal space – OK, so there isn‘t much to give but when it is there is it often respected. In this place, not the case. There are people walking on the back of my sandals and it's not even rush hour. I’m getting increasingly irritated. I have a word with myself. It’s a busy city, we’ll be off soon.

We head to the city centre. For a city known for its stressed out workers, it has a nice atmosphere but everyone looks a bit miserable. We go into the cathedral which reminds me of the dozens of cathedrals I’ve seen in the UK so it doesn’t excite me very much.  In the coffee shop the waiter looks like we have personally insulted him when we ask for a coffee in Portuguese. "YES” he snaps. We leave behind our guidebook in the art museum and are dismissed when we ask for it back because they are closing. They think we want to buy one. We then have to explain with a dictionary that we have left it behind which is when we are actually listened to and a minute later they hand it over. Everything seems like a huge effort with not a lot of reward.

We realise that this city is crap at dealing with foreigners – useless in fact. The metro has announcements in English which makes you think it is a bilingual city but nobody actually speaks the language. It is disappointing. Our friends in Ouro Preto were right – it is a bit of a shit hole. They are going to have to step up somewhat when they host the world cup next year we think. We decide to go off for some food which is when we experience the Pizza Incident which makes us rename Sao Paulo as Sour Poo-hole.