By Kyle Headland

Rio is an aging starlet with breast implants and dark roots. She still turns heads, but the make-up is applied quite thickly. São Paulo is a tough-looking guy in a bar. He has a blemished face and a scowl, but once you get to know him he smiles and buys you a drink. Salvador is the band: Commotion and the beat of a drum. Curitiba is the pretty girl sitting hopefully in the corner, ignored.

Curitiba can best be described as nice, with both the positive and negative implications of the word applying. Brazilians know it as their world-class example of urban order and livability. While the rest of the country, and indeed the world, were becoming more and more automobile-oriented, Curitiba managed to get people out of their cars and onto the buses and sidewalks. The result today is a pleasant “little” city of almost 2 million inhabitants.

Rio is a fancy restaurant with a dirty kitchen. São Paulo is a working-class lunchonete with plastic tables. Salvador is street vendor food, odd flavours and smells both enticing and repellent. Curitiba is the salad bar at a churrascaria.

A tourist bus plies a route around the city and environs, completing the 25-stop circuit in a little more than two hours (if you miss one bus, wait 30 minutes for the next). A cheap  ticket allows for 4 stops and re-boardings, and leftover stubs can be carried over to other days. I bought my ticket on board and was advised that the botanical gardens, Ópera de Arame, Tanguá Park, and the panoramic tower were the most popular points at which to disembark. Short, recorded descriptions of each stop are given in Portuguese, Spanish, and English. One piece of advice: Once you board, it will take more than 2 hours to make it back to your starting point. Plan accordingly.

Rio is Catholic, encased in ornament and ritual. São Paulo is evangelical Christian, expectant and convinced. Salvador is, predictably, Candomblé; spirited and sensual. Curitiba is a cult, with free kool-aid for anyone.

My impression of Curitibans is that they are trying hard to convince the rest of the country that their city is “better” than São Paulo or Rio. Without these two mega-cities in relative proximity, it would be hard for some residents to define themselves. While looking enviously at their more cosmopolitan neighbours, they want to be acknowledged as being in more fortunate circumstances. They would undoubtedly hate for too many outsiders to actually move next door, but they want everyone to share their conviction that theirs is a better quality of life.

Rio plays bridge and sips Martinis on a patio. São Paulo deals poker with whisky in a smoky room. Salvador does dominoes and beer on rickety outdoor tables. Curitiba offers board games and wine coolers.

I spent a couple of evenings looking for Curitiba’s night life. What I saw were patches of life surrounded by quietness, both in time and space. Perhaps due to the early January holiday season, most shops were closed before dark. It seems to be a place where you find your favourite bar and become a regular. The individual establishments are spirited, but the shadows beyond the welcome signs are empty. Walking back to my homestay, just east of the center, between nine and 11 p.m. was eerily quiet.

Rio is a beach-front condominium. São Paulo is an urban high-rise. Salvador is a row of restored colonial buildings. Curitiba is a single-family home with a garden.

So Curitiba is a “nice” place. People live here, meaning there is enough commerce and leisure to entertain an interested traveler. There are far worse places to be “stuck” on business. If travel were a checklist then Curitiba would not warrant a box, but to see and experience everything that makes Brazil Brazilian, Curitiba is a must.