pão de queijo crumbs and confessions: what belo horizonte shoves in its mouth when nobody's watching
let me tell you about the time i tried to busk outside mercado central with my half-broken ukulele and accidentally became a *queijo coalho taste tester. this city eats like it's about to get rained out of a parade-desperately, joyfully, with zero regard for napkins. current weather? the sun's punching through smog like a determined sous-chef while afternoon storms bubble up just enough to make outdoor tables scramble. sao paulo's only an hour flight away but tastes like another planet entirely.
i learned three things fast: 1) rent in savassi will gut your wallet faster than a pastel de angu vendor (think 2k BRL/month for a shoebox), 2) nobody gives a damn about your instagram aesthetic when the frango com quiabo arrives steaming, and 3) the bartender at Bar Do Beto will cut you off if you can't handle cachaça rougher than my last breakup. safety tip from a street painter i met:
"don't flash your phone in centro after 8pm unless you wanna donate it to some kid's uber fare."
> "officially we're known for feijoada," slurred a guy named Vinícius who definitely owed his bar tab, "but the real move is tropeiro with extra couve from that stall behind the post office. tell 'em i sent you. they won't know who i am."
job market's tighter than my jeans after three pão de queijo, btw-unemployment's sitting around 12% last i checked. explains why everyone's doing side hustles, like the dude selling homemade doce de leite* out of his bicycle basket near praça da estação. drunkest advice i got? "if a place looks like it hasn't mopped since 1997 but smells like heaven, sit. DOWN." confirm this wisdom at Xapuri or risk eternal FOMO. more intel? lurk r/BeloHorizonte like your dignity depends on it. or hit up Comida Di Buteco season when bars become war zones of snack one-upmanship.
> auntie at the lafalafa spot whispered: "they say mineiros eat more pork per capita than anywhere, but shhh-vegetarians are winning. slowly."
final thought: BH doesn't feed you. it swallows you whole. and the toilet paper situation? that's another blog post.
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