Paulistas tambem sao bonitas
Thursday night, Sten and I met up with our hot Brazillian friend Saulo. On the way to the restaurant, we stopped by another hotel to pick up Saulo’s friend Tony. Before continuing with our exciting evening of gaity, a further desrciption of Tony is required. I had met several of Saulo’s friends last Saturday when I went out (see Paulistas sao loucas for details). They were all young, attractive, friendly, and a lot of fun. Standing in the hotel lobby, Sten and I were expecting the same. To our suprise appeared "um oso", or for those English speakers, a bear. When I think of the stereotypical Venice Beach bear (ok, so he was from Laguna Beach), Tony’s image comes to mind. He obviously works out his arms and chest for hours a week, yet almost takes a certain pride in flouting his large beer belly. Likewise, he also obviously spends a lot of time in the sun in an attempt to leatherize his skin. To complete the description, he is covered in a Robin Williams level of hair. Hair is sprouting out of every opening in his clothes. Wondering if I had misjudged Saulo’s taste in men, I asked him if he and Tony were friends or "friends". Saulo’s very animated response of "No, no, no, no! We are only friends!" made clear that I had not misjudged.
After picking up Tony, we proceeded to a restaurant that was Sao Paulo’s equivalent to DC’s Peppers. Well, except that the food was very good. For a couple hours, we ate, drank caiparinhas, and chatted with some more of Saulo’s friends. A further description of his photographer friend also requires further description. In three words, he was gorgeous. But he also knew it. His dark brown hair was perfectly styled, and his deep blue eyes lit up when he flashed his perfect smile. The curious part about him was that throughout the entire night, he had his handsfree attachment to his cell phone in his ear, as if we were less important than any call he may receive. During dinner, I tried to speak to him a few times, and he more or less just ignored me. I was starting to get irritated because I thought that he was acting as if he was too good to converse with me. After about an hour, I realized that he didn’t speak any English. Once I began conversing with him in Portuguese, he was very, very nice. I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.
After leaving Sao Paulo’s version of Peppers, we went to Sao Paulo’s version of Nation. Well, the atmosphere and the people were similar to nation. The club itself was clean and beautiful, which is so unlike Nation. On the first floor of the club, there were several bars, couches, and tables, so that you could sit down and relax over a "hay-dgee boule e vodka". After a failed attempt to convey to the bar tender the method in which I wanted to become intoxicated, I realized that Brazillians pronounce Red Bull "hay-dgee boule". After that realization, it was on. On the second floor of the club was a glass-bottomed dance floor. You could sit downstairs, look up, and watch the gorgeous Brazillian boys dance. After going upstairs, I came to my second overgenerlazation about Brazillian men: they are beautiful. In DC, Sten and I feel that we are in the top quintile. However, here in Brazil, we are in the bottom quintile. We are the last call boys. Everyone was shirtless, displaying their perfectly scultped and tanned bodies. Before returning to this country, I will be spending a lot more time at the gym. An interesting sidenote about the dance floor: Oso Tony was dancing with this shirt unbuttoned, proudly displaying his mass of hair.
As I had to make my final presentation the next day, about 3:00, Sten and I decided that we had had enough fun, and it was time to cease oogling hot guys and return home. Overall, it was a very fun night, and it has enamored me to Brazillian culture just a little bit more.
