Sao Paulo's scale defies comprehension - the skyline that extends to every horizon, the neighborhoods that would be cities anywhere else, the distances that make crossing the city a journey. The growth that began with coffee in the 19th century accelerated with industry in the 20th, the migrants from Brazil's northeast and the immigrants from everywhere else filling space that kept expanding.

The scale creates both problems and possibilities - the traffic that averages 180 kilometers of jams daily, the infrastructure that cannot serve the population it holds, but also the critical mass that supports world-class culture. The scale is what makes Sao Paulo both unlivable and essential, the city that Brazilians love to complain about and cannot stop moving to.

Sao Paulo is Brazil's immigration capital, the city where communities from everywhere established themselves and maintained identities that generations haven't erased. The Liberdade neighborhood holds the largest Japanese community outside Japan, the torii gate marking the entrance, the Japanese spoken in shops that the Brazilian government once banned. The Italian community in Mooca and Bras that shaped Paulistano cuisine and character, the Lebanese in commercial districts - immigration defines what Sao Paulo is.

The immigration created the food that Sao Paulo eats - the pizza that claims Italian heritage while becoming Brazilian, the sushi that Japanese immigrants brought and Paulistanos adopted, the Arab kibbeh and sfeeha that everyone loves. The immigration is why Sao Paulo is Brazil's most cosmopolitan city, the diversity that makes it unlike anywhere else in the country.

Sao Paulo's culture punches above even its considerable weight - the MASP museum whose collection rivals European capitals, the Pinacoteca that documents Brazilian art, the street art that covers entire buildings. The Sala Sao Paulo concert hall in a restored train station, the theaters along Avenida Paulista - the culture that wealth has funded and that residents consume.

The culture is what makes Sao Paulo's difficulty worthwhile - the restaurants that Michelin stars acknowledge, the fashion that Brazilian Week showcases, the nightlife that never stops. The culture is also democratic, the free museums on certain days, the parks where art installations appear, the street culture that everyone can access.

Avenida Paulista is Sao Paulo's main street, the boulevard that coffee barons built and corporations colonized, the address that signifies importance. The MASP's elevated building that Lina Bo Bardi designed, the towers that banks and multinationals occupy, the protests that fill the street when Brazil has grievances - Paulista is where Sao Paulo happens.

The avenue closes to traffic on Sundays, the Paulistanos who reclaim the street for walking and biking and culture providing the human scale that weekdays deny. The Paulista of weekdays and the Paulista of Sundays are different cities; both are real.

Sao Paulo's neighborhoods provide the texture that the megacity's scale obscures - Vila Madalena where bohemia concentrates and street art covers walls, Jardins where wealth displays itself in boutiques and restaurants, Pinheiros where gentrification is transforming industrial past. The neighborhoods that different communities claim, the identities that persist despite the city's homogenizing pressure - the neighborhoods are where Sao Paulo is actually lived.

The inequality that Brazil displays finds expression in neighborhoods - the favelas where millions live in conditions that prosperity passes by, the gated communities where the wealthy retreat, the middle-class neighborhoods where most Paulistanos actually reside. The neighborhoods reveal what aggregate statistics hide.