Bauru: Where Concrete Dreams Get Real

okay so i’m in bauru right now and let me tell you, this place is a trip. *the air feels like someone wrapped you in a damp blanket-constant 23.68°C with humidity breathing down your neck. i just checked and it’s… that sticky, steamy kinda thing, hope you like that kind of thing. perfect for sweating while pretending to look at museums, honestly.

if you get bored, sao paulo is a bus ride away, campinas is basically next door, and piracicaba smells like sugar factories. the locals will tell you bauru’s got this rep for being ‘functional’-aka no frills, no nonsense, just concrete and cashew nuts. which is fair, but also kinda rude? whatever.

heard some drunk advice at this bar called o pé de cajueiro that the best pastel in town comes from a cart near the bus station ‘that disappears at midnight’. also, some local warned me that the museum downtown locks you in if you’re there after 4pm-true story? no idea, i bolted at 3:58. café do museu gets hyped but tastes like regret, according to my notebook.

’someone told me the botanical gardens are haunted by a ghost who really hates bad selfies’

’i heard the best steak in town is at this place where they only serve it if you order in portuguese and know the password’

this city’s got bones, man. you can’t walk five feet without tripping over some art deco relic or a pão de açúcar building. spent yesterday tracing the footprints of that architect guy who designed those insane brutalist blocks-made me feel like a detective in a concrete jungle. the street art near rui barbosa is fire, though. some pieces looked like they were melting into the walls, which i’m pretty sure is illegal? who knows.

’drunk advice: never trust the guy selling coconuts near the old train station. his coconuts are angry’

ended up at this tiny joint called toca do cachorro* for breakfast-eggs and this weird tapioca sandwich that tasted like air but cost 2 reais. the owner kept glaring at me like i’d insulted his grandmother. maybe i did? idk. grabbed a pastel from that midnight-disappearing cart (it was 6pm, so i survived) and it was… fine. better than museum coffee, at least.

for real though, if you wanna see how brazil breathes when it’s not at the beach, come here. just bring a fan and maybe a raincoat. also, check out this if you’re into crowds, or that if you’re into yelling at waiters. the city board has some good stuff too, if you read portuguese like a champ. safe travels, suckers.

You might also be interested in:

• https://votoris.com/post/finding-an-englishspeaking-doctor-in-ninh-bnh-my-brain-hurts-and-so-might-yours
• https://votoris.com/post/istanbul-where-the-coffees-strong-and-the-weathers-chilly
• https://votoris.com/post/starting-a-paranormal-venture-in-athens-ghost-hunting-taxes-haunted-permit-drama
• https://votoris.com/post/childcare-costs-and-options-in-so-bernardo-do-campo-a-messy-guide-for-real-parents
• https://votoris.com/post/changwons-safety-saga-a-shutterbugs-take-on-numbers-and-nerves