Cross if you dare

In a certain way, Sao Paulo must be a lot like LA. And I don't mean the bikinis. It's a car culture, except that the majority are Citroens about a decade old, and that not everyone has one, so parking is surprisingly easy. And, of course, this being an economy where labor is distressingly cheap, even your drycleaner has a valet. So if you happen to be driving yourself (your driver, I guess, has the day off), you can drive right up to the grocery store, hand the valet your keys, watch him back over a couple of pedestrians as he tears around the corner in it, and walk back out to collect your car while he loads your groceries in the back. Or, if you'd prefer, you can simply request that your groceries be delivered. I can only assume that that's what the dudes in uniforms pushing loaded grocery carts around the neighborhood are doing. Either that, or they're making off with the well-packaged goods at a very slow pace.

This being a car culture, pedestrians rank somewhere below algae on the food scale. Apparently the rules of the road are somewhat different here--it falls to the mergee, not the merger, to WATCH OUT. So you blithely wrench your way into traffic knowing that everyone else will somehow scoot inches out of the way to make room. It must work, since I haven't seen an accident yet. Unfortunately, the same rules don't apply those of us on foot. Crossing the street is really somewhat better than an afternoon cup of coffee--at least it will get your heart rate up a little higher. In our neighborhood, they've created little roundabouts at many intersections, presumably to slow down traffic. In practice, this only makes the driver's intentions even more inscrutable for the pedestrian presumptious enough to attempt a crossing. Will he swerve all the way around, only half the way around, or drive straight over the little bumps demarcating the roundabout, it's anyone's guess.

So we're headed out to buy a used car this afternoon. When you can't beat them, join them.