Sao Paulo: 9-11 May

A mega-cosm of rich and poor
Sao Paulo is a mega-city. Like Mumbai or Shanghai it's an industrial and financial centre and the continent's main engines of economic growth. It produces nearly 17% of Brazil's GDP, is home to some 350+ multinational companies, and is the gateway for roughly half of Brazil's imports and exports. And the city's financial muscle is on display; chic boutiques and expensive restaurants line Jardins' boulevards, one of the glitziest neighbourhoods. The streets are devoid of tourists and full of suits. Its dynamism bowls you over; it might not be beautiful, but it's certainly happening.

But also like other mega-cities in the developing world, it is a magnet for poor people who migrate here looking for work. According to the US State Department, Sao Paulo has nearly 18 million people, of which roughly 10% live in sprawling "favelas". These urban slums have sprung up all over the city, but predominately along the main access roads. Arriving by bus I passed miles of cardboard and tin huts, open sewers dribbling sludge down hillsides, and electric wires connected illegally and precariously to the mains.

In every city there is an apparent gap between the rich and poor - it's hardly ununsual these days. But nowhere I've been to is the divide as stark as in Sao Paulo. Traffic and crime are so bad that the rich no longer drive; the helicopter is now their taxi of choice. Indeed, Sao Paulo has the world's second largest fleet of private helicopters after New York and they buzz incessantly overhead. In areas like Jardins residents live in gated communities with 24 hour security. Just down the road in the favelas mothers cook on open fires and when it rains the streets turn to mud.

In Sao Paulo, rich Brazilians are fabulously wealthy, the middle class remains small, and the urban poor are not much better off than their brethren in India.

Green spaces, modernist architecture
Despite the gaping divide between Paulistas, I found the city surprisingly attractive. Of course, it helped that I was staying with Ory in total luxury in the heart of Jardins. And it is probably no coincidence that my favourable impression was formed as I strolled along leafy streets after my first hot shower in 10 days. Objectively, however, who can fail to appreciate the sloping grid of streets full of charming cafes and interesting shops set amidst lush green foliage of palms, strangler figs, and evergreens? How can you not be excited to slurp fresh mango juice from a street vendor?

But even if you left Jardins for the gritty confines of Centro you'd be impressed to stumble upon thoroughly attractive modernist blocks designed by the likes of Oscar Niemeyer. The Edificio Italia is a soaring tower that cleverly uses its concrete struts to create a mesmerising pattern. Sao Paulo is a jumble of Le Corbusier inspired edifices and 18th-century colonial stuccoes. It it's no mish-mash, it's manages to combine the old and the new in an attractive way that Buenos Aires simply fails to.

Bento and the Pentecostalists
My stay in Sao Paulo happened to coincide with Benedict XVI's first trip to South America as pontiff of the Catholic Church. The nation was gripped with "Bento-fever". TV channels showed 24hr blanket coverage of his trip beaming banal details of the pontiff's tour into our sitting rooms alongside the impressive stage-managed mega events (like the Sunday mass for 1m people in Sao Paulo suburb).

The Pope's trip is hugely important for the Catholic Church. Brazil is the biggest catholic nation in the world with an estimated 138m observant Roman Catholics. But across Brazil and Latin America, the Catholic church is quietly hemorrhaging believers to the evangelical churches, especially to the Pentecostal movement (see The Economist's interesting piece on the Pentecostals in Latin America). The Catholic Church is fighting back by emphasising charismatic renewal and allowing priests to borrowing liberally from the more enterprising evangelical churches. According to Cardinal Cláudio Hummes, former Archbishop of Sao Paulo, the Pope came to Brazil because "Latin America cannot be lost".

Arriving in the old historic quarter of the city, I found a tangle of barriers, chaotic streets, giant traffic jams, and hundreds of soldiers. I navigated the temporary blocades winding my way through back streets in search of the old churches, colonial buildings and other snippets of the city's history.

At the Saint Benedict monastery I ran into an thick, expectant crowd. I waded my way forwards towards the speakers and heavies congregating around the front portico. Then I spotted an odd-looking glass box perched precariously on the 18th century balcony. A man was fiddling with wires, hooking up the microphone to the speakers: "um, dois, test" went the technician, "um, dois, bento!" replied the crowd amidst laughter.

A light went on in the box and he appeared: the Pope behind a sheet of bullet proof glass, arms spread wide practically touching each side of the box, palms facing towards the sky. The crowd let out an almighty cheer -- "BENTO!!" The pontiff smiled happily and greeted the crowd in crisp Italian. With a magisterial wave of his arms, he imparted his blessing, said thanks for coming, did what seemed like a half bow, and, with a neat twist, he disappeared. The box went dark.

The crowd hovered. Was he coming back? Was it him or an apparition? Why did he only stay for 15 seconds? Someone in the crowd booed. But most people just grumbled, feeling somewhat cheated by the brief encounter. And then we left.

I couldn't help but feel that Bento didn't get off to a good start. The Vatican's attempts at pop-popery fell well short of the infectious preaching of most Pentecostalists. How was Bento going to connect with Latin America - Catholicism's last bastion and great hope - if he couldn't mutter more than a few words of hello?