3460723 and the weird little town that made me rethink everything
woke up to the sound of a rooster that definitely wasn’t on my itinerary. 3460723 isn’t exactly a tourist magnet, but that’s why i’m here-i’m chasing the places nobody’s instagramming. the numbers 1076767110? still no clue what they mean, but i’m starting to think they’re a local code for “the good coffee shop.”
anyway, the weather right now is doing that thing where it’s 18.56°c but feels like 18.98°c because the humidity is 96%. basically, i’m a damp noodle. i just checked and it’s basically soup outside right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
first stop: the central plaza. i heard from a guy at the bus stop that the fountain there “used to run with wine during festivals.” i’m 80% sure he was drunk, but i’m also 100% charmed. the plaza itself is lined with crumbling colonial buildings that look like they’re leaning in to gossip. someone told me that the mayor once tried to paint them all pink and the town revolted. sounds about right.
if you get bored, curitiba and são paulo are just a short drive away, but honestly? don’t. 3460723 rewards slow wandering. i spent an hour watching an old man teach his grandson to whistle with a blade of grass. no filters needed.
food-wise, i followed a tip from a woman at the bakery who whispered, “the best pasteis are sold out of a garage on rua das flores.” she was right. they were also 2 reais each and tasted like my childhood dreams. i also tried the local version of brigadeiro that had chili in it-don’t ask me why, but it worked.
one thing i didn’t expect: the street art. it’s everywhere. i overheard someone say the town hired a famous muralist to “distract from the potholes.” mission accomplished. my favorite was a giant capybara wearing a crown, painted on the side of a pharmacy.
lodging was a lucky accident. i booked a room above a bookstore because it sounded cute, and it is-but also the walls are paper-thin and i now know the complete discography of my neighbor’s favorite forro band. worth it for the smell of old paper in the morning.
random tip: bring cash. the only atm in town rejected my card twice, and the internet cafe charges by the minute. i ended up trading a polaroid for a coffee. bartering is alive and well in 3460723.
i keep thinking about those numbers. maybe they’re coordinates. maybe they’re a date. or maybe they’re just a reminder that not everything needs to make sense to be memorable.
anyway, i’m off to find that “good coffee shop.” if i don’t come back, tell my mom i died happy and slightly sticky from pasteis.
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