Sampa

by Alice Saraiva (Brazil)

A leap into the unknown Brazil

"Deaf or listener?" These were my first words in São Paulo. Words in Libras, the Brazilian sign language for non-listeners. Stunned, after a sudden morning flight, I was barely able to read the note that that restless beggar put on my table. She answered me with her hands: "Deaf" Thus, I realized the reason for the approach in the form of a note. Without saying anything, I opened the purse and took the last coins I had in my wallet. After a brief interaction, she continued delivering her notes to the tables that followed, and that's when I realized: wow, how many tables! In front of Guarulhos Airport, the largest airport in South America and the second most active in Latin America, I realized the grandeur of my decision. I was afraid. Completely afraid. But that fear was dominated by sleep as an extremely efficient biological strategy. A new journey now begins. I had to leave my mother and all the comfort of a small town behind, exclusively to follow my dreams and to be able to be big. As big as São Paulo, the heart and soul of Brazil. What is the next step? That's what I wondered when I tried to calm myself down by sipping a cup of hot coffee, hot enough to dispel the notion that my tremors were due to the cold climate. I was trembling at the unknown. Trembling at the greatness. I felt numb. With just a bag filled with clothes and another one filled with doubts, I threw myself into the back seat of an Uber, where the first tears finally flowed. Tears of fear from the great metropolis, like those of a Greek before the Olympus. Tears that mixed with the rain that painted the transparent glass. And the window glass didn't lie: everything was different. Powerful cars, wider avenues and much larger buildings emphasized the undeniable before my eyes: São Paulo is unstoppable. I looked at the city map and saw the metro and train lines. There are few cities in Brazil that have them. I soon realized that they were strategically formed as arteries that carried pulsating oxygenated blood, giving life and movement to Brazil's main economic pole. As if I could drink that blood, I felt courage. I felt cold. It is never cold in my hometown. I felt life. I got out of the car, and took my first leap into the unknow. I felt energy. As I unpacked, I looked at the window and saw a street full of fastness. I felt São Paulo. And, boy, I didn’t ever want to stop feeling that again. It’s Sunday now. Every Sunday, the Paulista Avenue is closed for people to enjoy cultural activities offered by street artists. There, I knew: I needed to be part of this city, and give it the courageous citizen it deserves. I asked one of the street musicians for his instrument. I played two songs in the Avenue. Passersby, as usual on Sundays, watched me perform and left some coins and smiles. I thanked the guitarist and, as a way of thanking, said he should keep the coins. I performed because you have to be fierce to call yourself a “paulistana”. That’s when I knew that I wasn’t in São Paulo anymore. I was in Sampa. I felt worthy of using the affectionate nickname. Now, here I am, studying, living by myself and, 1 year later, I still feel it like it was yesterday. I still feel the passion in every modern architecture, and the braveness in every acoustic song. I still feel the movement and I still feel the opportunities that this global city can offer. Sampa is everything and anything. And I love it.