Long Read

maringá: where the spreadsheets stop and the sweat starts

@Oscar Finch2/11/2026blog
maringá: where the spreadsheets stop and the sweat starts

another day, another spreadsheet. i’m in maringá now, trying to forget the last client meeting that made me question my entire existence. the air here is thick with something-humidity, maybe? or regret? i just checked the temp and it’s…well, let’s just say the mercury isn’t messing around. hope you brought deodorant.


the first thing i noticed? the locals are either too polite or too bored to talk to me. but then again, i’m not exactly trying to blend in. i’m here on a ‘consulting gig’ that’s more of an excuse to escape the soul-crushing cubicle life. if you need a change of scenery, londrina or curitiba are just a short drive away, each with their own brand of weirdness.

someone told me that the best coffee in town is at this place called café do zé, but then again, someone else said it’s overpriced and the barista has a superiority complex. who knows?


i’ve been wandering around, taking in the sights. or trying to. the city is surprisingly green, which is a nice change from the concrete jungle i left behind. but then again, i’m not here for the greenery. i’m here for… well, i’m not entirely sure. maybe to find something that doesn’t feel like a transaction.

a girl smiling for the camera

heard a local whisper that the cathedral is a must-see, but only if you’re into architecture that’s trying way too hard to be impressive. i mean, it’s big. real big. but is it impressive? i’m not convinced.

silhouette of building during sunset


and then there’s the food. i found this spot that serves *pastel*-a fried pastry that’s basically the poor man’s version of a gourmet pastry, but honestly? it hits different. check out this list of the best spots for pastel in Maringá on Yelp if you’re into that sort of thing.

a black and white photo of a long hallway


if you’re looking for something to do, Maringá’s tourism board has some suggestions but honestly, the best advice i got was from a guy at a bar who told me to skip the tourist traps and find a bar where no one speaks english. so far, that’s been the most useful thing i’ve heard.

anyway, that’s all i got. the pressure here is 1012 hpa, which i guess is normal? whatever. i’m going to go find a cold beer and pretend i don’t have a flight back to reality in three days.


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About the author: Oscar Finch

Optimist by choice, realist by necessity.

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