Sunday, September 22, 2013

Little Big Town - São Paulo

Yesterday at the Palmeiras game (yep, another one), we had watched the first half and were sitting down at half time (as I've mentioned, there is no half time show except for inflated credit cards (!!??!) in the middle of the field) just looking around. And we noticed a row down across the aisle the judo teacher for the boys. We went over to say hello and he commented that he is at every game, and he is a green-blooded Palmeirense complete with 1914 tattooed on the inside of his wrist. Six months ago I would not have known what that means but now I know it to be the year of Palmeiras' founding. 

Anyway, my football genius is not the point. The point is that I run into people I know all the time in this, the 7th largest city in the world. 21,000 at the stadium and we run into the judo teacher. I get lost in an area of the city where I never am, take a detour down an alley and almost run over my own husband who has come to lunch for the first time in the same area. My husband, as a Brazilian native, is even more likely to run into his "peeps"-- a kindergarten friend, an old co-worker. I never run into people I know in the US--not even in my old home town of 17,000 people (and many of the people I grew up with still live in that town). Why is that? 

Little Big Town.

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