We came around the corner of the mountain range flying in at about 6000 feet. I pressed my forehead to the window as the pilot announced our landing. Suddenly there was Sao Paulo sprawling before me – city of red clay roofs, city of skyscrapers, city of poverty, city of joy. Here was a city like none other.

Flying into most American cities looks and feels about the same. The similarities speak to man’s tendencies to copy one another. Most of them lay out pretty much the same – some bigger, some smaller. Then there’s Rome. Now there’s Sao Paulo.

People, people, people. All of whom I do not know, have never met, will never meet – living down here in South America – a place I seldom consider. I am, once again, struck with the smallness of my life, the largess of the world around us. I have lived all these years; this place has been here all that time, yet we never knew one another. A new window opens to my life and my heart rushes in the excitement of it.

I spent the rest of the day in the hustle and bustle, the hassle and the traffic. Oh my god, the traffic — worse than L.A. Crawling across this sprawling city I am most taken with the creativity of the graffiti. Modern street art thrown up on ancient walls. Colorful, Latin, bold, fascinating. Wish I could stop and study it.  Wish I could meet the artists…

There are too many poor people in this world. Nothing new here, but seeing it is experiencing it in a way we sheltered Americans seldom do. What will Cape Town bring? That’s where I go next. To the shanties of Cape Town. I must focus on the joy of the people.

The day had not the romance I expected. I didn’t fly all those hours to drive all day in traffic, but the corner turned this morning into the valley of Sao Paulo and those red clay roofs was a moment I shall never forget.

I’ll take what I can get.

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