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 Avenida Paulista, a three-kilometer long avenue, is regarded as São Paulo’s best-known landmark. Why this should be is a mystery, since it is nothing special and has none of the historical associations of the old downtown around the Praça da Sé area where the city was founded 451 years ago, today.
It consists of row upon row of monotonous high-rise buildings where tens of thousands of office drones beaver away in front of computers. There is still a handful of buildings left from the days when Paulista was the smartest area in the city and the home of rich coffee planters and traders.
However, no-one actually lives in these pitifully few remnants of more elegant times and their days are numbered.
There is also a distasteful, rust-colored art museum called MASP which looks as though it was designed by a child with a Lego set and painted with millions of gallons of Army surplus paint bought at a known-down price.
MASP’s architect, Lina Bo Bardi, has the dubious honor of being known as the pioneer of “industrial archeology”—that’s right “archeology” not “architecture”. Alas, it is in the hands of vandals like these, and the biggest culprit of all, Oscar Niemeyer, the “architect” of Brasília, that Brazilians have put their cultural heritage.
Paulista also has a pleasant park, called the Trianon, which contains some of the last remaining native vegetation. Unfortunately, it also contains beggars and alcoholics and one area has been taken over by homosexual prostitutes.
On Sundays, a so-called arts and crafts market, where bargains are non-existent, is held outside MASP and part of the street is closed to traffic. This, of course, has caused an outcry among the city’s road hogs who feel that the right to drive a car anywhere, at any time and at any speed should be the first article of the Brazilian Constitution.
These critics try to portray themselves as good citizens concerned that traffic has difficulty reaching the nearby Syrian-Lebanese hospital, ignoring the fact that the hospital is easily reached by Avenida Nove de Julho which runs underneath MASP.
During weekdays Paulista is noisy and busy and thronged with white collar workers, and self-important business types with cellulars glued to their ears.
The working class is represented by clerical staff, moto-boys, security guards, parking attendants and delivery boys from the hundreds of restaurants and fast food places in Paulista and surrounding streets.
Unlike business districts in other cities, such as Rio de Janeiro or London, Paulista remains alive at night. There are apartment blocks on the avenue itself and the surrounding area where tens of thousands of people live.
There are also lots of hotels, cinemas and night spots. Security has improved a lot in recent years and police kiosks have been set up at several junctions, paid for by local businesses.
Holiday Time
On holidays and special occasions, Paulista takes on a new face. Free shows are put on and the whole avenue is opened up. That’s when what left-wing politicians like to call the “people” arrive.
These are not the usual cellular-clutching businessmen or secretaries heading off for a lunchtime sandwich but the inhabitants of the districts which the middle class avoid and know nothing about.
They are residents of poorer areas and districts with bad reputations like the “Zone Leste” and the favela shanty towns. They pour into Paulista in their thousands as they did on Tuesday January 25, this year, to mark the city’s 451st anniversary.
As always, thousands of armed and helmeted police and private security guards were on duty to make sure they behaved themselves.
You could only enter Paulista through certain streets and even then you were frisked by the police. Your correspondent joined a group of bare-chested, shaven-headed youths with tattooed breasts, arms and legs.
I was then ordered to remove my baseball cap, let a policeman ran his stubby fingers over my intimate parts and then display the contents of a bag. This consisted of a book of Daily Telegraph crossword puzzles which the officer accepted was not a lethal weapon and let through. Once inside, we were searched again before being released to enjoy ourselves.
The security measures are welcome because a lot of these youths are looking for a trouble and there is no shortage of firearms. I saw one group of young men, many wearing Corinthians football strips, lined and being searched.
Maybe the commanding officer suspected something or maybe he was just a Palmeiras supporter but, in any case, it was a good public relations exercise. “Aren’t our police wonderful?” I muttered to a fellow bystander who replied with a cynical laugh.
Despite the rigorous measures, there are still anomalies. For example, bottles are banned but cans are not. At the same time, alcohol is on sale everywhere and, unusually for Brazil, there were lots of drunks around.
Drugs also seem to be tolerated and several people were openly smoking maconha (marijuana). The bands reflected the taste of the crowd. No sugary Sandy and Júnior or toothy Yvette Sangalo but groups like Arte Popular and Cidade Negra.
Arte Popular, in particular, had a strong appeal to the males in the audience similar to the appeal of skinhead and punk groups like Slade and the Stranglers in England almost 30 years ago.
Unfortunately, as often happens at this time of the year, there were rainstorms, which battered the audience but the sun reappeared and the “people” enjoyed themselves.
By the time I left, everyone was getting even mellower, the boys were chatting up the girls and things were as peaceful as you can expect when several hundred thousand Brazilians get together.
In a few weeks the people will be taking to the streets again all over Brazil when the Carnaval takes place. If you are in Brazil, make sure you join them.
John Fitzpatrick is a Scottish journalist who first visited Brazil in 1987 and has lived in São Paulo since 1995. He writes on politics and finance and runs his own company, Celtic Comunicações—www.celt.com.br—which specializes in editorial and translation services for Brazilian and foreign clients. You can reach him at jf@celt.com.br.
© John Fitzpatrick 2005
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