Since I’m assuming the general reader is not interested in my deep thoughts on Brazilian museums, I’ll spare you my lengthy musings on contemporary museological practice and just recommend the
Museum of the Brazilian House, a small design museum with an excellent restaurant. There were lovely examples of mostly Brazilian design going back to colonial periods in the 17th century, including a ‘sanitation chair’ and some truly fantastic 1930s Art Deco design. It doesn’t require a huge time commitment, pairs nicely with a good lunch, and is close to Shopping Iguatemi, which is apparently one of the best malls in the city.
I live in New York, so I had forgotten how convenient malls— large, enclosed shopping centers— can be. All that capitalism in one easily navigable space! Plus several actually good restaurants, a food court (with gelato, although good luck pushing your way in to order), and the usual suspects of international luxury (Tiffany’s, Rimowa, Ralph Lauren) with things like Zara, Forever 21, and Brazilian brands.
My reactions, after walking through a single mall in a single Brazilian city, so obviously this is a valid statement: people really like swimsuits and really like swimsuit cover-ups here. Also, very glittery clutches and tiny purses, frequently shaped like fruit. (I should have bought the watermelon-shaped bag, but it’s one of those things that I think only makes sense in a place like Brazil.) It’s a good thing I wasn’t staying at a beach resort, because I would have been woefully underdressed and really boring. (My swimsuits are from Patagonia and Lands’ End. If you need any more evidence that I am really a middle-aged lady, and not some underage kid trying to get sauced on AA’s dime, just check out my practical and full coverage Lands’ End swimwear.) Plus, there were a lot of things that are caftan-adjacent, and I have been dutifully working on my
caftan body. Maybe I can move to Brazil and live out my Golden Girl retiree fantasies, and swan about on a lanai in awesome caftans and bedazzled swimwear in my later years?
To further this goal, I went into the Melissa store, a Brazilian brand that mostly specializes in jelly shoes. I’m still not sure if the shoes I bought are just awesome or just awesomely tacky, but one pair is cool and sparkly and the other pair is from a collaboration with Vivienne Westwood. I paid less than $50 for both, and since they retail for quite a bit more (
seriously, Zappos?), it’s like I practically justified the cost of the plane ticket here. Plus, I was later asked for directions while wearing one of the pairs, so in two short days I was passing for a local. Perhaps a dour Paulista who needed a little more bedazzling in her wardrobe, but a local nevertheless.
[And I am editing to add: I bought two pairs of shoes. And I would buy 2 pairs of Havaianas (as gifts), and got a pair free from the hotel. Flip flops are small, yes, but I'm returning to the U.S. with FIVE more pairs of shoes than what I came with. AND THEY ALL FIT, easily, INTO THE ITTY BITTY RIMOWA. It is truly a magical suitcase.]
Another easy and efficient Uber ride deposited me back at the hotel, where I enjoyed the pool and sauna for a bit, and mulled over dinner. I had a long list of recommended places from some acquaintances of my partner. I don’t eat pork or red meat, so some parts of Brazilian cuisine were not appealing to me. I mentioned a few of the suggestions to the concierge at the hotel, who responded ‘oh, those are all really good choices’ (i.e., I am serious about food) and I decided to go with a Portuguese restaurant that was known for its cod,
A Bela Sintra, on Rua Bela Cintra.
The concierge got me a table at 9, and when I got to the restaurant, I was kind of amused to see that I was definitely there on the early side. I was also very pleased to see that there were no attempts to squeeze me into some small or poorly situated table as a single diner, as sometimes happens. And it’s a good thing the table was so large, because the amount of small appetizers and various things that started appearing was hilarious. I had already eaten several things (cod croquettes, very tasty garlic bread) so this photo doesn’t do the spread full justice. And the starter, a duck comfit salad, was absurdly good. The photo can in no way convey crunchy, fatty, delight of this dish, and I would have happily continued eating that all night. There was a huge selection of various cod preparations, and while my main course was good (and also rather generously sized), the duck comfit was the winner of the night. A very rich custard and petit fours meant I wished I had worn a bedazzled caftan to dinner, and another fine Uber ride had me back to the hotel and in bed before most people in city, it seems, would have finished their appetizers.
All that stuff: brought for one person.
I really, really am working on that caftan body.