His: Lima, Peru

Peru was one of those places we’ve always had on our bucketlist…strictly for Machu Picchu, but we put it off our first time around the world because we thought it was overdone or wouldn’t be as good as people say. Just felt a little too “mandatory” as a destination for us, so we dodged it with no regret.

We arrived from Colombia and stayed in Lima for 2 weeks, and ate our way through the city. The food is insanely good, and we ate ourselves physically ill everyday. We had no idea, but Lima is the 3 time and current “Best Food Destination” in the world. http://www.peru.travel/en-au/what-to-do/Peru-of-today/food/awards/worlds-best-culinary-destination.aspx  That says a lot considering that, generally, I’m extremely bored by the food in South America - the flavors are so bland and NOTHING is spicy.  Coming from Jamaica, the land of jerk, basically everything in SA tastes like damp cardboard to me.  But in Peru, and specifically Lima, they do food really well.  French, Italian, Spanish, American, Japanese, you name it - and they Peruvify it; adding in seafoods, lime, incredible chutneys, breads, omm non nommmmm!  Bring your spork and adult diapers when you visit lima.  

Best Places to Eat in Lima:

Sandwiches (all day & late night) - La Lucha

Dinner/Lunch (Heavy): El 10 Carnes Y Vinos (Miraflores)

Dinner (Ceviche/Sea): Punto Azul (puntoazulrestaurante.com)

We partied a fair bit too much, in true A&A nature. One night on the way home from Barranco at around 2am, we were thoroughly marinated and acquired our ceremonial sloppy melty greasy late-night food. We took it to go, cause duh.  As we merrily floated along the sidewalk, we took notice of a guy and girl walking towards us and made a mutual decision (without verbal corroboration) that they need to try our delicious food.  We both start blabbering what was probably incomprehensible, but to us sounded like — YOOOOO YOU NEED TO TRY THIS, IT’S SO GOOD, WALK RIGHT IN THERE, BUY IT, IT’S CHEAP AND IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY.  They say nothing as we shout hot breath into the air, but give each other a few looks. Four steps later, we’re face to face and Adrienne offers a bite of her sandwich up into the ether, and the girl looked at us sideways for half a second, just assessing whether or not this was actually happening, and then squared right up and took a monster bite out of it. Bad ass. I love a good stranger with no regard for normalcy. "Ok, bye now!" And off we went home.  Little did we know, we’d meet these people again 2 days later waiting inline at the airport for the same flight, then getting delayed, then just joining in waiting misery together, an hour goes by, our flight get canceled and we discover that the next flight is 24 hours later, then we obviously decided to book an airbnb together and become best friends for life. Big ups Cassidy & Peter! See people, when you feed people, miracles happen.  Next time, give a stranger a bite of your 3am shawarma.

Apart from eat and drink, we visited some old pyramid-like ruins in the middle of the city (yeah, WTF?! pyramid-ish things made of mud bricks from the year ~700ish right in the middle of Lima!!!).  Google Huaca Pucllana, why is this not a thing?

If you’re in Lima, definitely check out John F. Kennedy Park after eating at the greatest sandwich shop in the entire universe, La Lucha (see above), and then put down a few Pisco sours (THE Peruvian Drink) at any adjacent watering hole. I promise you, when you see what we saw, your jaw will drop, and you’ll likely waste a couple of hours playing on the ground wandering around this park.  HUNDREDS OF STRAY CATS.  HUNDREDS.  And not your standard issue eastern Mediterranean mangey wild feline, these are beautiful, well fed and groomed cats…so wtf are they doing here? People don’t want their cat anymore (cause, duh, who would want a cat?  It’s a decision that you’ll regret after 6 months of everything getting peed on.) and the just bring it here and leave it.  And EVERYBODY takes care of these cats, the park is filled with locals petting and sitting with them, feeding them cat food, playing with them.  It’s so weird, but I like it.  It’s like an instant stress reliever when you walk into this part, sit on a bench and 20 cats cuddle up to you for warmth and love.  You finally matter to someone, for this first time if your life, you matter.  Haha. We don’t really like cats (we had to evict one after 8 months of cohabitation in SF a few years back, but we found it a great home where it still is.  We named our cat “Cat,” no joke.)

Go to Lima, eat and drink your face off, and touch cats.  The End.

His: Myanmar Your Grill

This was our most highly anticipated stop of the trip so far as it’s known to be comparatively unscathed by tourists. We meant to stay for a month, but our trip was very abruptly cut short due to lack of internet connection and the husband of this duo (guess which one that is) needs that inter web in order to rule the advertising world. The 10 days that we had in Yangon were really wonderful, but we missed the best of the best, Bagan and the Inle Lakes.

Visiting Yangon’s pagodas and temples was like spending a week inside Lil’ Wayne’s mouth.  So much damn gold and diamonds on that pinky ring bling bling.  It is absolutely mind-blowing.  It doesn't make any sense at all.  Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon has something like 1,000 shrines all in like less than a square mile and all hypnotically surrounding the pièce de résistance, the Golden Pagoda, towering 105 meters over the skyline, visible for miles around the city.  Not to mention, dozens of other bling blang pagodas and shrines all over this city, including a 65 meter long Reclining Buddha, aka Chaukhtatgyi Buddha Temple aka Netflix and Chill Buddha.  Myanmar is the dirty south rapper of Southeast Asia.  I mean, there weren’t any strippers or Bentleys (that we noticed), but I know they’d be all up in their music video tossing wads of bills, showing off their gold-plated sneakers, and brushing their grills with liquid platinum toothpaste.  Ball so hard Burma, ball so hard.

We ate a lot everyday, but quite aggressively at night. We found a little, shitty street in China Town filled with food carts, rats and cockroaches where we could pick out all of our fresh veggies and marinated meats to be thrown in dirty baskets and grilled in front of us. You should definitely stay in China town & hit up 19th street day or night, plenty of chaos and all of the great Southeast Asian energy that you could possibly soak up.  The food was so delicious that you didn’t even mind sharing your scraps with rodents and dickroaches, or taking the risk of getting food poisoning. Adrienne quickly became obsessed with the ginormous fried grasshoppers and ate 1-5 a night after putting 9-15 Myanmar Beers in her face hole.  Bonus points to Myanmar Beer - under the cap, you win money OR a FREE BEER.  We earned lots and lots of free beers and gave the "money caps" to the little kids roaming about.

BOMB FOOD in Myanmar: Tea leaf salad (looks sketch as it probably comes in a little baggy, but it's awesome), Chia Tea, Meeshay (a Shan dish; rice & saucy meat), and fried grasshoppers obv.

The ornate, massive, golden temples are gorgeous and the people were lovely, but really, the grasshoppers were the real attraction for my little lady. Definitely go to Myanmar - and definitely hit everything incredible that we missed (Bagan, Inle, etc).  This is a home run destination in our little black book.

Oh note to self ya’ll, don’t touch monks and post photos of it on social media. Adrienne befriended a monk one day, and he asked for a photo, he signaled for her to go in for a cuddle while I took the shot. Apparently thats a big no-no and people really like to tell you all about it in a not so nice way. If one of you meanies are reading this, FU! He loved Adri and Adri loved him!!! (insert middle finger emoji)

His: Nairobi; the Lexington, Kentucky of Africa.

We had a wild and crazy 2 weeks on the edge of the Great Rift Valley in Nairobi, Kenya.  And for the first time, we actually got to experience an expat community – so many Americans, and by some miracle they were actually all cool people.  One night we went to dinner with 8 strangers who are a hodgepodge little family – they didn’t make sense together but were all-likeable.  Like sitcom likeable, where there’s someone for everyone.  It was actually like Adrienne and I were in Friends.  There was a Ross, a Phoebe, a Monica, and definitely a Joey.  [You know who you are].  This has nothing to do with Nairobi, but since ‘TV,’ I always thought of myself as a Zach Morris.  Thoughts?

Broadly speaking – life in central Nairobi is more or less like life in dozens of modern international cities around the world, but it has just a bit of Africa sprinkled in.  So that means a bit of donkeys, and push carts, and outdoor fruit stands, and crappily-paved roads, and poor kids with no shoes.  Generally speaking, the nightlife was pretty awesome and the proximity to wild adventure makes it a great town to be in, with surprises around every corner.

Day 1 – we met up with a guy that we met on Instagram who took us on a wild ride through Nairobi nightlife.  First, we headed to the “most dangerous neighborhood” in Nairobi for dinner.  Sure, we’re up for it.  Eritrean food (similar to Ethiopian) – wow, just so good.  In American terms, imagine a huge XL-pizza sized tortilla, with like chilli, queso, chicken tikka masala, cheesy potatoes, and mac salad on top.  You wrip off pieces of tortilla then use it to scoop up some goodies.  Disclaimer: it’s not tortilla and none of the above things are on it, but you get the picture of deliciousness.  Go google for some historical accuracy.   You need to try “Shiro.” After dinner, we hit a Country-music bar.  What?!  Mmkay, this should be interesting.  Apparently country music has long roots in Kenya.   The main act “Sir Elvis,” who we refer to as the Black Johnny Cash (cause he’s black and sounds like Johnny Cash), probably played the most amazing country music I’ve ever heard live (ok, fine I’ve only been to one Toby Keith concert ever, but still, he’s awesome).  The attendees; you’d assume were some expat white trash Texans, wearing cowboy boots and 10 gallon hats, spitting on stuff, but no – local Kenyan businessmen and politicians.  To me, country music is kinda made by and for a certain breed, and to see a group of 100 high-class Kenyans listen to a band of 5 other Kenyans singing about running over their dog with their tractor on accident and then driving down the old dirt road to ask Sally for forgiveness for crashing her Chevy when he was driving drunk, because beer, car, girls, tractors, mustangs, sadness, losing stuff, beer, whiskey…was hilarious.

The night was still young, so Ian thought he’d introduce us to Murja and offering only “Want to see something really weird?” as the precursor.  If you know us, then you know there’s only one answer to that question:  Yes, immediately.

Let’s just dive right into this one; Mujra is a several hundred-year-old tradition in Muslim India.  “But Andrew, please tell us more.”  Of course, here goes nothing.  Mujra, can only be described as the world’s shittest strip club.  Now personally, I hate the concept of strip clubs with a passion and I refuse to enter them.  Literally 0 interest whatsoever, ask the 12 guys that came to my bachelor party for prood.  Ok, so what makes it so shit?  1.) The girls are fully clothed at all times.  They’re wearing like the worst dresses you could buy at Dressbarn for a sophomore girl who’s super excited that Timmy Michaels asked her to Senior Prom.  Not revealing at all. 2.) There’s no dancing or sexuality, just 10 girls awkward-walking back and forth from the center of the stage to the edge where the guys are lined up like Meercats.  It was like watching a Beauty pageant for 6 year olds in Northern Alabama.  3.) All of the girls were clearly imported – Nepalese or something.  I’m sure they’re making a ton of money compared to back home, and they’re doing literally nothing to make it, but it felt weird.  When not involved in the lazy stage loitering, two girls sat on a bench at the back of the stage just looking sad and disappointed, before they had to get back up into the “action.”  “Yeah, us too, and your resting bitch face isn’t making it more fun for anyone.” 4.) These Indian guys are going NUTSSSS throwing money everywhere, and just freaking out over it. “Look Baba, you can see her hair!  It is so hair!  Oh my Shiva!”  They’re showering these women in cash for their sad-prancing awkwardness.  Adrienne and I are sitting there just completely dumbfounded, and Ian seemed pretty pleased with shocking us.  So naturally, Adrienne pulled out 100 shillings (about $1.05) and joined in making it rain until we literally almost fell asleep from the boredom.

The rest of our Nairobi adventure included petting and playing with Elephants, Ostriches, Giraffes, and some great expat nightlife – hanging with local celebs, and getting to see Mos Def (Yasiin Bey) in concert, standing about 6 inches away from him.  My Umi said, “that ish was the illest.”

Read Adrienne’s post to hear about our crazy African adventure day into the bush a few hours outside of Nairobi.  That day was everything I wanted from being in Africa.

We closed out our trip with a day at the African Heritage House – one of, or the largest collection of African Artifacts in the world.  The founder and owner is somewhat of a legend in the art world; hailing from Colorado, but having lived in Africa for the last 50 odd years – He’s an awesome soul.  This place was crazy; hundreds of years of art, furniture, and crafts, from hundreds of different cultures in one house.  The owner, Alan Donovan actually had Iman model his jewelry collection, which was her first real modeling gig.  Google “Iman,” if you don’t know – one of the most famous super models of all time.  He’s lent artifacts to tons of movies including one of the most famous movies about Africa, Out of Africa AND gave Adrienne some 30-year-old African earrings made in a traditional way.  I think the house was just added to the list of UNESCO sites, so you know, see it and stuff, it’s great.

Now we’re in Istanbul, people here call me Osama, I’ve eaten no less than 25 Doner Kebabs per day, and we’re going in a hot air balloon in definitely the most insane location I’ve ever seen this week.

Ok, bye.

His: Zanzibar - The Lion King will never be the same!

Zanzibar!  The exotic spice capital of East Africa, homeland of Freddie Mercury (I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?), and tropical paradise is our home for 6 weeks.   

Zanzibar is a unique Island – on its own, it was colonized by the Portuguese and British of Europe along with the Omans of the Middle East – sprinkle in some Indians and SE Asians for the spice trade and mainland Africans for the slave trade.  Everyone's had their greedy little fingers on this strategic port and everyone’s left their mark.

The architecture is heavily Arab, Indian, and British (based on no facts, just cause I says), and the food, deliciously so, seems to pull roots from India and SE Asia for the curries, Africa for the stews, Portuguese for the golden-fried balls, and the Indian Ocean for the oh so delicious fresh seafood. 

The people are 99% Muslim and probably a similar ratio of African decent vs. the Arab, Indian, and European populations.  Swahili is the primary tongue – Hakuna Matata anyone?!  Yup, “No worries” is real, and everyone says it.  Also Rafiki’s “Squash banana, Asante sana” is “Squash banana, thank you very much.”  Fortunately for us, most everyone speaks pretty good English here.  One Swahili phrase that I've learned "Lala Salama" means goodnight, or literally, peaceful sleep and since I haven't learned "Goodbye," it's how I saw goodbye to everyone.  Middle of the day to your waiter?  Yup, "Sweet dreams!"  I recommend that you part ways with a "Sleep well" every now and then...people will think you're REALLL weird, and it's good for the soul.  I love getting their bewildered looks, or whatever the equivalent to "WTF?" is in Swahili.  It's my special moment.

There’s only one city on this island – Stone Town, which is right in the center on the Western coast, and the Island spreads out about an hours’ drive North, South, and East from there. 

Now, I kind of glazed over it, but given that this is a Muslim society – the women here are covered from head to wrist to ankle.  Most leave their faces uncovered, but every now and then you’ll see nothing but a thin streak of exotically styled eye shadow atop of a majestically flowing floor-length dress.  It’s mysteriously elegant.  In Stone Town, most of the women wear all black with some bedazzles here and there, but in the villages, almost all of the women wear these incredible colorful, printed fabrics from head to toe.  Seeing a group of 10 women walking down the road is like eating a 64-box of crayons while riding a My Little Pony over a rainbow to hang out with the Care Bears.  Color explosions and I love it.  Of course, fitting-in makes quite the wardrobe challenge for Adrienne – as you know, we live out of little backpacks. Yay, shopping! 

Stone Town is a winding maze of alleyways no more than 6-7 feet in width, full of walkers, bicyclists, scooters, and tiny cars (one direction at a time) zipping by that you constantly have to dodge for fear of murderation.  It really made me feel like Aladdin, hopping through the bazaar running away from the police for an apple…an apple. 

One jump ahead of the hoofbeats, One hop ahead of the hump, One trick ahead of disaster, They're quick, but I'm much faster!

Many of the men wear Shalwar Kameez (I bought one, photos coming soon :) ), which is proper Arab attire (primary dress for Afghanistan and Pakistan, but worn throughout the Middle East and North Africa) and the women, as noted, are all covered – save the 2-3 tourists that you’ll bump into.  For the first time, we REALLY feel like this ain’t Kansas anymore, and I fit in WAYY too well with my massive, perfect, not weird at all beard.

Stone Town is electric – constantly abuzz with great energy, and everyone’s on their game with something to sell.  Supermarkets, department stores, and really stores in general are an obscure concept here.  This place is for hangling, this place is for street sales.  You buy fresh fruits, next to cigarettes, next to shoes, next to fresh fish, next to cell phones, next to toys, side by side on blankets on the ground or small tables on the side of the street.  Ohh the mad, mad, chaos of the market – hundreds of people elbow to eblow, touching skin, wheelin’ and dealin…my personal nightmare.  This is nothing like Amazon.com.

We’ve discovered the best soup in the world here – Urojo, or “Zanzibar Mix,”  and best juice – Sugarcane Ginger Lime (freshly pressed street-side of course).  Urojo ruined my life.  It’s like Chinese hot and sour plus Japanese Ramen, plus Brazilian-spiced grilled beef, plus the water left over from a crawfish boil, plus tortilla soup.  Tangy, salty, meaty, liquid paradise.  It’s the only thing that I couldn’t resist eating crazy fast that it got all up in my beard, and I just didn’t care.  Long (beard) hair, don’t care! (Apparently beards have poop in them?)

Once you leave the little city, you get an instant taste of rural Africa.  Teeny tiny little villages dot the pseudo-highways where people live off of the land – literally, just what they farm or fish.  Most people have no electricity, running water, or for that matter, rooms and doors in their homes.  Cinder blocks are the primary building material, coupled with sheets of corrugated steel or thatched palm leaves for roofs.  Most of the people here survive off of around $3 per day, and eat the same simple foods for every meal.  We’ve seen a lot of city-poverty in our lives and travels, but it was a completely different experience to witness rural poverty.  The people seem content with their lives – it’s how they’ve lived forever, and maybe they’ve never even been to the city and they have no idea what else is out there?  

White sand beaches run the lengths of most of the coasts here and the handful of resorts that dot the coast are dwarfed in number by the little huts of the local villages.  If you want a real beach holiday escape that isn’t gentrified and Disneyfied – you’ve met your match.  On Zanzibar, you get raw, real life. 

Our hotel sits on a little cliff and our 150-yard walk to the beach cuts directly through one of these villages.  Dirt floor homes, no doors, a single well where water is gathered by dangling a bucket down with a rope, and unsupervised infants playing with sharp objects everywhere.  There’s almost nothing inside of these little houses, I know for a fact, because there are mostly no doors and I have wandering eyes.  Sorry I’m not sorry fo creepin’! 

We’ve been fortunate enough to connect with half a dozen of the locals that live in this village – only men, oddly – which may be a cultural thing, but they’ve been wonderfully welcoming to us.  We’ve gone sailing on their hand-carved 30 year old wooden boats, watched them making crafts, learned about their families, and even got a sneak peek (from afar) at an awe-inspiring wedding celebration.

We’ve had many an excursion here, from snorkeling to walking on coral reefs, to monkey spotting in the rain forest, to mangrove swap wandering, to Giant Tortoise touching, to perma-culture farm exploration, coral-cave wandering, bat-dodging and textile shopping – Zanzibar is full of stuff to do.  Oh yeah, and I can’t forget – eating coconuts every day and drinking exotic fruit juices that only grow here!  Coconuts is my JAMMMM.

Zanzibar, you’re a really odd, spicy, mixed up, beautiful, and mysterious place.  It’s African, and Muslim, and Western, and Middle Eastern, and Christian, and Indian, and Asian, and English, and Swahili, and Rural, and Urban, and Impoverished, and Paradisey.  It’s like someone took the soft serve ice cream of life and rolled it in all the toppings before covering it in maple syrup and taking a bite.  Like, you know how sometimes you’re craving chocolaty, so you get cookies n cream ice cream, then add Butterfinger, graham crackers, and chocolate syrup, but sometimes you’re feeling fruity, so you get Cotton Candy ice cream and add gummy bears and Sour Patch Kids?  Yeah, Zanzibar is all of the toppings on all of the ice cream.  Weird and mismatched, you never know which flavors will come in the next bite, but all together it’s oddly delicious.  

Bye!

 

His: Bye Bye Paulistas!

Our trip to Sao Paulo, Brazil has come to an end and we've told you basically nothing about it so far.  If you follow along on Instagram, you're pretty up to speed, but I'm excited to tell you more about this leg of our adventure.  Of course if you want to visit Sao Paulo, or just want a laugh - then read my lazy-person's travel guide to Sao Paulo.  

Sao Paulo is considered the "New York City of South America" - it is larger in size and population than NYC, but I guess they just generally look up to NYC for lifestyle trends.

Since I'm just doing 1 post for SP, I'm going to talk about my favorite part of SP, the people.  But 2 quick things first, 1) the graffiti here is insanely awesome.  They even have amazing graffiti all over their houses (see picture & my Instagram). 2) I had to wash my underwear in the sink when we got here, haha.  So gross.  It's a first for this trip..and a first in my life, but these highly recommended underwear wash well and dry fast.  Hand-washing isn't that bad, people!!!  I do feel a little dirty still...

People of Sao Paulo

The people of Sao Paulo are awesome and very welcoming to foreigners, specifically NYCers.  More of them speak English than in Rio and generally they're excited to meet Americans, vs. Rio where they're just over it (too many tourists).  You missed out Cariocas, we could have been best friends!  

Behavior

Also in contrast to Rio, no one in Sao Paulo exercises outside.  I walk every morning to help with my back issues, and in Rio, starting at 7am, half the city comes to the beach to strut their stuff.  In Sao Paulo, I haven't seen a single person walking (for health) or exercising outside in the entire 2 weeks.

The only properly strange thing that we learned about Paulistas (People from Sao Paulo) is about their 'hook-up' culture.  Obviously we didn't learn about this first hand, but we got the second-degree scoop from a guy and a girl (who I assume met each other in the same extremely un-American fashion).  So what's so weird about it???

Let's pretend you're a guy, in America, at a bar, for instance.  They're playing music, you see a cute girl dancing - so you race through all of these pickup lines in your head, chose one, then go make your move.  Your move, meaning you go over and try to spark up a conversation and maybe slide in super smooth for a dance.  From there, you continue on dancing and chatting for hours trying not to mess things up and hope that at the end of the night you can secure that holy, enchanting kiss...or two.  I hope that all sounds normal to you people....

So in Brazil, they don't have this "break the ice" pickup line culture that us Americans have.  Instead, their pickup line is a KISS...on the mouth...always with tongue.  Let me paint the picture for you: "Hello, MOUTH-FACE-MOUTH-SPIT-TONGUE-BREATH-MOUTH-GRABBYHANDS-MOUTH.  What is your name? My name is Fred." and then, if you're superrrr lucky and you played your mouth-tongue-spit cards right, you get to dance.  So any American men out there with serious mouth game, but terrible speaking abilities - head to Sao Paulo.

Style

I've been known as a "yupster" in some circles, which is a yuppy-hister (clever name, huh).  Anyways - idk why I got that name, I guess I wear tight pants, listen to weird music, like dressing up in costumes, (try) to eat all the organic free range grass fed sustainable crap....but I'm not a full blown hipster because I have a professional non-creative job and I shower ever day?  I mean, I guess I like it fancy sometimes, which could be the 'yuppy,' but have you ever seen me wearing salmon colored "sky's out, thighs-out" shorts with a mint long sleeve polo shit, sweater draped around my shoulders and Sperry's topsiders on?  NO, you haven't (not in like 6 years anyways).  Yes I just called out some of my friends, but it's true, they're the yuppies, not me!  Anyways... where was I going with this???

Right! So, I kinda can't stand hipsters, even though a lot of people that I know call me a hipster, or part hipster, geez, even my personality is biracial.  If you hate hipsters, check out this website.  I actually love a lot of things about hipsters and what they originally stood for.  I often like their style, taste in music, taste in art, taste in neighborhoods to live in, taste in food...but I hate this high-and-mighty, holier than thou baditude (bad attitude) that forces them to look down their noses at the nest of the world.  They're often so freaking cool, that they will refuse to admit that something really cool is actually cool just to be alternative.  Ughhhhh, I hate you!  Just be yourselves!  So we've come to find out that this is primarily an American thing, not a "hipster" thing.  The hipsters in Sao Paulo seem to be everything that I love about hipsters and they have none of the baditude.  

I would totally live in Sao Paulo, just because the hipster-community here is right for me and I'd proudly wear that big bright stereotype right across my beard, vintage t-shirt, red flannel tied around my waist with jeans cut into shorts, and combat boots on.  Everyone here has a sick beard (almost as dope as mine), interesting clothing, great taste in music I've never heard of, and get this - they don't carry themselves like they're better than the rest of the world!!!!!  Sao Paulo, hipster community, I love you.

But seriously, look at this fucking hipster.

Meeting People

In Rio, we met people on Instagram "Online Dating," but in Sao Paulo, we did things old fashioned.  Day 1, we met @MauroFarina @MissionSabotage at a bar - he's a legend, great beard, INCREDIBLE DJ, works with VICE (which we're obsessed with), you've already seen him in our Instagram shots and we're basically friends forever.  Stay tuned for more adventures with Mauro & @FreeBeats in the next few months.

Generally speaking, if you want to be friends with Paulistas, you need to eat dinner at 9pm at the earliest, and be prepared to start partying between 12am-2am and to finishing partying from 4am-12pm.  It's insane, but we haven't gone to bed before 3am in the last 4 days and that's just because dinner went long, we were almost totally sober.

We had EPIC days and nights with @Walterjunior, @Suzmaranhao, @andrebrasilia, @camilapons, @oficialvin AND @PaulMalicki AND @Maricarmem, @lumaia86, @francsco, and @adeusvivious.  We love making Friends Forever - thank you all so much for your hospitality, generosity, and partyocity.  You're all beautiful souls and we can't wait to cross your paths again!

Finally - Adrienne and I are nightlife, music, art, and party people.  For us, Sao Paulo felt like home, it has a lot of NYC in it, but with a grittier, more genuine vibe.  Feels like '94 NYC.  I know nothing about '94 NYC because I was In Kingston, Jamaica...and 7, but that's just what it feels like and I'm right.

We just got to Buenos Aires last night.  Bye Bye "trying to speak Portuguese" and hola Espanol!!!!!!  Onto destination #3!  Instagram adventures, more blog posts with crazy adventures (including some amazing friends from the US and France that are coming to visit us!!!), and another lazy travel guide soon to come!