Sao Paulo - One Face

Sao Paulo has many faces, one being riotously colourful graffiti, as here, often with runic-like characters even on the heights of the highest apartment blocks. Another is the antennae on the high avenues of Paulista and Doutor Arnaldo, near where we're staying at the moment; goodness knows what the IQ-frizzling capacity of these 100m high masts are but it must wipe out a potential Nobel laureate each day. There's also the plethora of back and neck specialists kept in gainful employment by the shocking bumps and head snaps passengers receive as the city's white taxis bronco over the deepest road intersection gutters ever devised by man, and career down the steepest hills this side of San Francisco. And then there's the beautiful people who drip with gold bullion and balance on needle sharp heels as they move between tables, with egos as fragile as Melba toast.

I mention these facets of the city not to criticise the place, which I truly love, but to record some aspects of its character. In doing so, I'm reminded of the saying that the character or culture of a place is composed of the things you stop noticing three months after arrival. These days my returning eyes and six foot three frame are soaking it all in again.