Alright, listen up. Itapolis (br) is a dump—I mean, a city. I ain't a fan of crowds, but there's some damn interesting bits if you squint. I walk down Rua dos Pombos sometimes; it's full of random street art that makes no sense. Honestly, like "There is no escape. There is no hope." Yeah, that Children of Men vibe. But trust me, there's method in the madness.
Now, about the neighborhoods. There's Vila da Mente—great for people who overthink way too much. You wander there and you’ll find small cafes, like Café Desalinhos on Avenida da Saudade. I once sat outside for a quick drink while a couple cried about their lousy relationship. As a family psychologist, I saw more drama there than on TV though I really cant be bothered with drama.
The park, oh man, Parque dos Sonhos, is a mess. I hate crowds but love the weird silence. Kids run around and old folks sit on benches near the Agua Clara River. Sometimes I sit and think, "This is humanity at the end of its rope." In kids of men words, everything's falling apart, so why not enjoy a slow walk among nature's chaos?
I gotta tell ya, I got mad at my neighbor in Bairro do Fim for blaring music at night. Ya know what? Life's too short for nonsense. Meanwhile, behind the old factory on Rua dos Desiludidos there’s an abandoned mural full of hope—ha!—like a beacon of lost dreams. Look, I enjoy my solitude, but occasionally I see families huddled around their problems. It pisses me off, yet touches something deep.
I also love the underrated diner, Lanche da Meia-Noite, over on Travessa da Fome. Great grub, if you're into greasy meals and cold coffee. Not that I care much about food. I’d rather chew on wisdom and memories. I was happy once here, laughing at therapy sessions with a friend who kept quoting “The future's not ours; it’s borrowed, and death’s the inevitable return.” Weird phrase, but it sorta fits.
Let me throw in a couple more gems. The city’s got random brick alleys by the Mercado do Sol, where street vendors sell antiques and old books. I once found a journal that made me cry—like seriously—remembering happier times. And then there’s the river walk on Marginal das Almas, so quiet you'll hear your own thoughts. A real mind trip—if you’re into that sorta stuff.
Alright, now I need to mention some typs, cause it’s more real like that:
I know, I know – I'm a mess sometimes. Honestly, Itapolis is a paradox, full of sharp edges and soft corners. I watch it all unfold like a poorly-edited movie. Life and families collide here, and part of me might even enjoy it if I weren't dead set against nonsense.
So, friend, if you plan a visit, just know: Itapolis ain't pretty. Its scars tell stories and its people? Well, they keep on living like there's no repair. And remember, like they said in Children of Men, "We have nothing."—but I say, "What a helluva lot of nothing." Enjoy, or don’t. I'm off.