Transitioning from Florianópolis to São Paulo is a bit like reading in the living room and then stepping into a teenager’s bedroom—same house but messier, smellier, dirtier, yet also artsier and oh so fascinating.

Compared to Florianópolis’ brand-new airport, Guarulhos looked older and more tired. It was also much busier, with departing passenger lines somehow spilling into arrivals.

Mark sighed when he stepped into our São Paulo Airbnb—sighs are the new punctuation of the sentences he no longer makes.

“Yes, Mark, it’s small. Apartments are small in São Paulo.”

Especially when you’re right in the hip, gay district.

The building was full of very fashionable, muscular guys. Half of them were heading to the academia to work out. The rest, like us, were trying to open the three doors and show their faces to the facial recognition just to have a drink on nearby Rua Augusta.

It may not sound like it, but I love São Paulo.

It’s grungy, busy, hilly, artsy, and there’s always something to do, somewhere to go, something to discover.

We started with the classic walk to the historic centre, the hectic street market, and Liberdade, aka Little Tokyo. This is our usual route. Considering the distances in São Paulo, it covers a lot of ground already.

Today, we went off script.

First, we walked to the Football Museum, built inside Pacaembu Stadium. It was far more interesting than I expected, coming from someone whose football culture is limited to Pelé, Maradona, Zidane, and Messi. The museum ties football to world history, which really spoke to me.

Then we got soaked.

São Paulo is one of those “four seasons in one day” cities. It can be hot and humid, then cold and rainy, then warm and windy, then whatever the weather gods decide. The bottom line is, you’d better take shelter when it rains, because it pours.

In the evening, we went to MASP—the Museu de Arte de São Paulo Assis Chateaubriand—on Paulista because Feng found out that admission is free on Fridays after 6 p.m.

Half of the city also showed up, but it was just lively, much like the rest of the city on a Friday night when it magically doesn’t rain.

The concrete-and-glass structure is a landmark on Paulista, but what I love most is the unique exhibition room. The collection isn’t on the walls but displayed in freestanding glass panels.

“Picasso! Feng, go see the Van Gogh! Did you check out the Renoir? Modigliani! Rembrandt! Matisse! It is… yes, Monet!”

I went crazy.

Tons of Brazilian artists also caught my eye. I will look them up. Sorry, I’m more familiar with European classics. I found the work of Clarissa Tossin very interesting, especially her use of materials.

It’s 1 a.m., and this is where we’re at.

The laundry is done, food was cooked… and Feng is starting to pack.

I’m dreading tomorrow.