Published 2025-05-15
tag(s): #random-thoughts
Many many years ago[1] I traveled for work to Colombia and Brasil. I
remember Bogotá as a "small city", spent a month there. Lovely place.
But then I had to go to São Paulo, a city bigger than my native Buenos Aires. And despite not
understanding the language, I felt right at home immediately.
I was on my own, and I visited everything I could: the most touristy places but also the most
random stuff. Never once felt uncomfortable, threatened, out of place.
It was then that I postulated a theory, since I had so much time to be in my
head[2]:
All big cities have a lot in common. As you spend time in them, you also pick up on a lot
of quirks that make them unique. Both things are true at the same time.
I didn't get to test that theory for a while. In 2012 I visited New York, and I felt the same ease and familiarity as if I was in Buenos Aires or São Paulo, despite their (very) obvious differences: the comfort of the noise, the architecture, history, tons of people rushing for no reason...just...perfect 😌
(I will make a note before continuing, that I know the sample of these anecdotes is not good enough to confirm or deny the theory. Would need observations of cities from more continents and cultures, etc.)
I have shared this commentary about "big cities" in the past in conversations with friends.
What prompted dumping it in a post is that, a couple days ago, on my way to work, I saw
something that I immediately associated the past:
A doorman[3], using a hose to clean the sidewalk. No broom, or extra water
pressure attachment, or any other tool. Just a colossal waste of water to (try to) clean the
sidewalk in the most inefficient way possible.
I recall there was a conversation about banning this practice in Buenos Aires, some time ago.
Anyway, seeing the guy pushing on the side of the hose to get barely more water pressure,
aiming at litter here and there... stopping every time someone was walking close by (which
means, very often) while letting tons of water run...starting again in a completely different
spot than the one he was cleaning - such a porteño image, in my head.
I even had a second look after walking by, just to confirm he was really doing what I thought
he was doing.
I found the scene funny, and nostalgic. Also out of place, and somewhat natural, both at the same time.
I think the same observation about big cities applies to people: a lot in common, and a lot of
differences. A spectrum of everything, in each one of us.
There's a set of commonalities that form the "standard stuff": the most universal works of art
usually speak to these.
Even in that common portion, there are slight differences - which is why even the most praised painting, book, movie, etc has people who are maybe not quite detractors, but at least indifferent to them.
And when you zoom in and focus in a smaller group, the uniqueness of each individual pops out more than the shared things.
I think this duality of having "a lot of the same" and "a lot that is different" at the same
time, makes the world interesting. It gives us enough of a common set of experiences and
understanding for each other, while allowing for uniqueness and...texture?.
I think that is also why there's a sense of surprise when you find, for example a friend, that
shares many sensibilities with you. Or a partner. Or coworker.
I hope I articulated that in a way that made sense, I feel even if I wrote 7 more paragraphs
I wouldn't be closer to making it more clear.
I actually deleted a lot of redundancy in that text, because it was not getting
better the more I explained >_>
The moral of the post is that writing about code is easier than trying to explain my thoughts. 😅