Opinion – Cuisine Bruta: Beach chair in SP bars justifies the cariocas’ mockery


The text “Criminals take cell phones in drags in bars in the center of São Paulo”, published Monday (16) in Sheetcould not be more didactic in exposing the diseased bowels of the city.

Well, the title already says that this is a police report. Dragnet is a disgrace anywhere. It turns out that the place is relevant.

The region where the crimes took place, at the intersection of Santa Cecília and Vila Buarque, concentrates half of the bars of modern, progressive, advanced, revolutionary and self-respected people in the city. I’m not lying: that’s where the few bars I go to nowadays are.

It’s also a filthy cityscape, as it has been for decades because of its proximity to the horrendous Minhocão. There has always been a huge population of homeless people, but this has worsened with the dismantling of Cracolândia da Luz.

The addicts spread throughout the central region, which became a focus of acute social infection. It’s not a safe place. Would it be a nice place?

Then you read the article and come across a photo of two dozen beach chairs set up in one of the bars that were victims of robbery. As if the extended cracolândia were a beach. As if a beach chair were suitable furniture for any business more than ten meters from the sea.

I agree that everyone makes do with what they have. São Paulo lacks the natural beauty of Rio, and here we need to take an elevator ride to the top of some skyscraper if we want some kind of concrete skyline. We want and need fun, that’s right, it’s just that people are heavy.

Is it fun to drink beer among cracudos and their grimy blankets, wretches begging for food, bus smoke, dead pigeons, A4-size cockroaches and black water from the gutter? Can you pretend this is a beach?

The abstraction of the São Paulo hipster is a prodigy. It manages to make invisible, silent and odorless everything that is uncomfortable on the sidewalk of the bar in Santa Cecilia. It must be the magic gin the local pubs sell.

São Paulo will never be Rio, even if a portion of our intellectual elite spends half the year sleeping in an apartment in Botafogo and comes back talking with the “r” hiss.

Beach chairs have a reason to exist: they are cheap and practical to be used in the sand, corroded by the salt air and replaced in a matter of months.

Leme tents do not rent them out to customers because of comfort or design; the sidewalk kiosks offer real chairs for the venerable asses of the parish.

Whenever a report shows a bar with an aluminum chair in a garage with a gravel floor or a bumpy sidewalk, São Paulo agrees with the cariocas. Paulistano deserves the fun he takes.

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