recife’s spray cans and sweaty sidewalks
woke up to the sound of a street artist spray-painting a giant parrot on some concrete. it was 7am and the parrot looked like it had a sass problem. i rolled out of bed in характером and grabbed my sketchbook, which at that point was just a paper bag with a pen inside. the weather here? i just checked and it's 31.3 degrees, feels like it’s trying to burn your skin. hope you like that kind of thing.
recife’s neighbors? well, the beach is basically a neighbor that exists 24/7. if you get bored, samba schools or whatever city you’re from are just a short drive away. but honestly, i’d rather be here sweating through my vintage band t-shirt than anywhere.
i heard that the local humidity is so thick it could glue your socks to your calves. someone told me that. a guy in a flip-flop at a food stall. he was eating something that smelled like regret and coconut. i took his warning with a grain of salt because i’m a terrible risk-taker.
the reviews? mixed. one tripadvisor said the street art was ‘a chaotic masterpiece that’ll make your brain hurt.’ another yelp review claimed the humidity was ‘the worst kind of love.’ i don’t know if they’re telling the truth or just trying to sound edgy.
the map here shows -19.7478,-47.9319. it’s not a place you find on a map app. it’s a feeling. a place where the streets are alive with color and the air smells like old pizza and disappointment.
i took three photos. one of the parrot mural, one of a guy balancing on a skateboard while eating a mango, and one of my sketchbook getting flooded by a rogue hose. the hose story is real.
the neighbors are the worst. i mean, the best. they’re the ones who’ll hand you a mango and tell you to ‘don’t die here.’ i heard that too. a woman at a bus stop. she was wearing a hat made of recycled plastic bags and a shirt that said ‘i survived recife.’ i asked her what she meant and she just nodded. like, yeah, you’re expected to die here.
the weather’s been a constant. 31.3 degrees, no change. it’s like the city is trying to bake you. i tried to cool down by drinking a lot of water and failing. i also tried to take a nap in a park but got soaked by a bus. the bus didn’t care. it just kept going.
someone told me the locals here don’t care about rules. i think they’re right. i saw a guy painting a mural on a bus stop while the bus was still there. the driver yelled at him. the guy just stared. it was beautiful.
i’m not sure if recife is beautiful. i’m not sure if it’s chaotic. i think it’s both. and that’s probably why it’s stuck in my head. the numbers 3445839 and 1076230331? i don’t know what they mean. maybe they’re coordinates for a secret spot. or maybe they’re just random.
the locals here have stories. some say the city was built on a giant skeleton. others say the parrots are actually aliens. i don’t know. i just know the air is thick, the people are loud, and the street art is there for everyone to see.
if you’re thinking of coming here, don’t. or do. i don’t care. just bring a lot of water, a weird hat, and a willingness to get lost.
links: check out the recife street art tour on tripadvisor. yelp has some real takes on the humidity. the local board might have hidden gems.
p.s. the numbers 3445839 and 1076230331? maybe they’re a code. or maybe they’re just the price of a mango. who knows?