Today  The Atlantic announced the full release of The Atlantic Wire, a slick compedium of political news and opinion from around the Web. It’s actually rather brilliant.

Herein lies a problem, however. While I just found a new content site that combines a beautiful interface with a stimulating blend of opinion, I have to access articles from on their site which is a huge problem. This morning I read an article in The Globe and Mail  called ‘Information-Rich, Attention-Poor,’ that sums up the situation very succinctly. The quantity of information I have readily available is almost infinite, however, my attention is scarce. All the multitasking and browser tabs in the world isn’t going to make me more thoughtful or well read when I can only devote a minute or two to any particular news item.

The Atlantic just made this problem even worse by creating a site I want to visit, but probably won’t because I don’t have time. Adding a new content source to my daily routine has zero transaction costs, but takes effort and some repetition to become a habit. What’s needed is a new delivery system that takes any work out of the process.

Earlier this week I had an article published in VentureBeat about Busk, a startup I encountered while I was in São Paulo this July. Busk uses real-time search technology to deliver news content based on tagged keywords and topics. Any mention of the word cricket, for instance, would search a database of 15,000 manually-added news sources and 100,000,000 articles to bring back every mention of the word cricket. Not too bad.

While this solves one problem, it doesn’t fully address the addition of a single source to my daily reading diet. One solution would be to change my home page,  but in doing so, I lose the page that I used to have there. Similarly, with an RSS reader, such as Google Reader or Feedly, I have to check them whenever I want to know about the latest articles posted. As it turns out, Twitter and Facebook Fan Pages are becoming my preferred method of receiving news. I filter most of what I know about the world through these two sites. Anything worth knowing finds its way to me. To put it another way, I’ve become accustomed to the news seeking me out, instead of going to it.

While Facebook and Twitter are good at presenting information in a ‘river of news’ format, it’s far from perfect. For instance, I have to be logged in to either site and separate hard news from social fact. While I don’t have much of a problem with it now, this is due to the scarcity of news sources I receive on Facebook and the sheer volume of duplicated news on Twitter. If I was more serious about it, I would need a more robust solution and so far I’m not aware of one that does the job. I’m sure there is a product out there that stays on top of interesting news sources–preserving the user interface without commodifying the information–and adds new sources without pain. If you’re out there somewhere, I hope we meet soon!

Nearly lost amid the stories of startup heroes and plucky entrepreneurs is the plight of Brazil’s poor. While Sao Paulo is the cosmopolitan hub of industry and commerce, it most starkly embodies the work that must still be done to create financial opportunities for all. In a city of more than 21 million, the overwhelming majority are poor. In 2003, 21.5 percent of Brazil’s approximately 190 million citizens lived below the official poverty line according to Rural Poverty Portal.

While an economic miracle is happening in Brazil, over those without proper education are in danger of missing the boat. One of the keys to ensuring Brazil’s continued success as an economic and, soon, technological powerhouse, is through the education of its young people. Colleges schools such as USP (Universidade de São Paulo) and Unicamp (Universidade de Campinas) are where the country’s best computer scientists, engineers and doctors are trained and their education is free. However, the condition of public education at the primary level is abysmal, according to nearly every person with whom I spoke during five weeks of interviews.

Tell me more …

During my visit to The Hub Sao Paulo, I spoke with Gilberto Jr., co-founder of Amanaie,  about the role of the Brazilian government in fostering innovation. He said that although the government has committed significant resources to hi tech investments, the money isn’t getting where it is supposed to go. Jr also challenged the notion that there are no startups in Brazil. Along with a small group of partners, Jr. launched a Web site called Startupi, which he said is like a Brazilian TechCrunch. Each week, Startupi profiles 5-10 homegrown startups.

Like what you see? Leave a comment!

Brilliance lives in the mind, but ideas need a place to grow. One of the great things about creative people is that they have no shortage of ideas, but as is often the case, hard currency can be in short supply. Before leaving the States, my friend, David, mentioned an organization called The Hub that builds multi-purpose work spaces, and plans to build one in New York. However,  since I was leaving town, it didn’t register at the time how helpful it could be. Looking back at how casually I leaped into the unknown, I realize now that I too needed a hub of some kind to connect me to the people I was hoping to meet in Brazil. After a week of furtive cold calls, I was over the moon when my efforts finally materialized into on-site interviews and a visit to The Hub Sao Paulo. My gracious guide was Paulo, a programmer and blogger whom I met through an Aardvark query. Just goes to show how creative applications of technology can deliver unexpected results. The Hub is a flexible, membership-based work space where creative types from all disciplines can come to socialize and cross-pollinate ideas that lead to exciting and unexpected new projects. “It’s a mixture between a Starbucks, a traditional office and an incubator,” said Barbara Stutz, one of the co-founders and a  partner in The Hub Sao Paulo. Opened in August of 2008, The Hub Sao Paulo was still in “soft launch,” Stutz said, with about 120 members paying 440-600 Reais (approx. USD 220-300) for an allotment of hours in the workspace. Members can book space for meetings, tackle personal projects or just hang out and be inspired if they like. Said Stutz, “It’s just an excuse to have all these people here linked and doing something.”

Paulo @ The Hub Sao Paulo

From the outside, The Hub was one of a dozen unassuming doors lining Rua Bela Cintra, a busy thoroughfare that crosses Paulista Ave., Sao Paulo’s most notable drag. Inside, however, the building had the unmistakable feel of a creative agency, such as a tony architect’s studio or a graphic design firm. The high ceilings, exposed brick and minimalist art pieces gave me a sense that experimentation and reinvention were happening constantly inside. The rear wall had a row of huge, circular windows looking out onto a handful of Sao Paulo’s innumerable office towers, a jumble of while bathing the room with natural light. On a central island, a group of people worked quietly on desktop computers, while in another corner, two women chatted excitedly with a camcorder. The first Hub location was built in London in 2005, said Stutz, and it has expanded its operation throughout Western Europe, India and South Africa, as well as three North American venues: Halifax, Nova Scotia and Montreal in Canada and Berkeley, CA. Hub Sao Paulo co-founder, Pablo Handl, confirmed that a Hub location in New York City is expected to open in 2010. He also said that walking into a Hub anywhere in the world, a certain look and feel is maintained. Tell me more …

I arrived at the gorgeous Casa Carioka hostel in Copacabana 90 minutes ago and now I’m unwinding with a beer. Rio is warm, humid and lush with tropical foliage. Just a few blocks down a steep hill is the ocean. A party is already underway and after some tense negotiations, the Canadian DJ’s are playing traditional samba music. Although I was exhausted when I woke up, the escape from Sao Paulo has already been worth it.

The Sao Paulo bus terminal was a very civilized and efficient affair, especially when compared with many of the Greyhound Bus terminals of American cities. Most telling was the cornucopia of cash machines from local, national and international financial institutions, such as HSBC, who bills itself as “the world’s local bank.”

After boarding the bus, our escape from Sao Paulo was a blur. I fell asleep instantly and awoke at intervals when our driver would stop on the roadside to pick up stragglers. As the road unfolded before us, I wondered if the entire journey between Sao Paulo and Rio would be one continuous urban expanse. However, at one hour and 35 minutes, almost to the second, the bus passed through a shelf of incandescent red clay and the megalopolis of Sao Paulo came to an abrupt halt. Where there had been factories and house upon house, crammed right up to the highway, only grass remained with cows to munch it, and termite mounds that  pocked the landscape like acne. The first “lanchonete” we passed had two emus in a fenced enclosure.

Sign: "The flavor of America"

Gradually even the frenetic picaçao that covers every vertical surface in Sao Paulo melted away to thick, unfazed stands of bamboo, dark green pines and row upon row of eucalyptus. The smooth blacktop cutting through rolling hills reminded me of the ride through Northern California as you approach Mt. Shasta on Interstate 5. Here and there we zipped by clusters of bicyclists clad in lycra and at random intervals I saw solitary homeless men walking barefoot. With jeans, a sweater and sometimes a baseball cap, it was remarkable how closely they resembled one another, though in all likeliness, they did not no of each other’s presence just a few miles down the road. Halfway between Brazil’s throbbing industrial heart and its most storied city, these lonely urchins seemed as though they were one million miles from either.

Cruising through hamlets of rust-colored brick hovels, with boys flying handmade kites on the spanish-tiled roofs, I was beginning forget about Sao Paulo behind and, Rio, which awaited, as I focused on soaking up everything outside the windows.

As our bus climbed higher, we skirted a nuclear reservation as the clouds grew thick and low overhead. The road began to twist and the hard top deteriorated, causing our carriage to bounce on its springs. Soon I feel asleep again and when I awoke night had already fallen. We were on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro and every car that passed us seemed to be headed somewhere important and fun. From the Novo Rio terminal, I boarded a city bus that took me near the center of town for $1 and then a taxi took me the rest of the way.

I’m sleeping alone in a room with four beds and for the first time in Brazil, I intend to get a good night’s rest. I’m not sure how likely that is to happen, but at least the possibility exists. And now, my night begins!

I’ve been experiencing an existential crisis ever since I left New York. It’s only been a few days on the road, but I often find myself wondering, aloud, “What am I doing here?” To date, the hardest thing for me to stomach has been leisure time. Although I graduated two weeks ago, I’m not on pleasure trip. If anything, I consider this a hybrid “workation,” where I am chipping away at a task while simultaneously exploring a new city. Inactivity feels like failure and sitting still is terrifying.

There are ways in which such  a reaction is to be expected; there is no road map for what I have set out to accomplish, and those whose journeys inspired me, had to wrestle with their own doubts either publicly or privately. With meetings and interviews with founders set for early next week, I’m starting to hammer away at my objective, but I can’t shake the feeling there is more I could be doing.

For whatever reason, I accomplish the most when I’m not at my computer. After last night’s rousing introduction to Paulista pub culture, I went with Joao to meet Roberto and Bruno at their house near Villa Madalena. Bruno, who is Debby’s nephew, and my age, is a musician who recently returned from a master course in Barcelona. When I arrived at the house, Bruno was out buying guitar strings, so Roberto and I watched the Roland Garros French Open and talked about sports. Soon Bruno came back and we ate the most delicious beans I’ve ever tasted, followed vine-ripened figs no American unknown to the American palette.

After lunch Bruno and I took the Metro to the Pinacoteca, where we visited the Museum of the Portuguese language. While the idea of creating a museum to honor the language of a colonizing power seems odd, the facility itslef was an homage to the dexterity and richness of Portuguese spoken by Brazilians themselves. The bedrock of Brazilian Portuguese is the European mother tongue, but its influences include other continental languages such as France as well as languages spoken by slaves kidnapped from Angola and Africa’s Southwest coast. The motivation and execution of the museum were brilliant and it’s the third museum I’ve visited where I feel I must go back.

We headed back to Jardins at the height of rush and  I’m inlcuding this short video because I can’t remember the last time I saw a train station this crowded. It’s very possible that more people pass through Grand Central Station during peak times, but the flow of bodies in Luz station was tremedous. At the same time, however, even a full subway car was not that full and if we missed a connecting train, the next one arrived no more than three minutes later.

Click to play

Back at the ranch, several of the emails I had been waiting for arrived.  In just a few minutes I was was able to set up interviews for next week when I get back from Rio de Janeiro on Monday. Today was also special because I celebrated Shabbat for the first time in months, or years. While it seems that things are moving along quickly enough here, it’s easy to lose sight of how incremental actions will lead up to a big finish when this trip is over.

It’s approaching 3:30, which would normally be early, but part of me wants to be on a bus to Rio that leaves at before 9 am. It might happen, but I’m already feeling warn down from sleepless nights, hurried days, schizophrenic winter weather and air pollution. If you have any suggestions on how to stay healthy, I would love it if you drop some comments below. I was told that commenting was non-functional, so if this is the case, you might have to email me so I can take the appropriate action. Perhaps I will even cut myself a little slack and cease the crisising for now.

If Brazil is the Texas of South America, then Delta Airlines is an RV with wings. All I have to say about Delta flight 121 to Sao Paulo is that I arrived in Sao Paulo in one piece. Their one “unit” of alcohol on a nine-hour, transcon flight, along with the fact they played “Hotel For Dogs” earned them a big black “X” in my travel future travel plans, However, Upon arrival I learned that an Air France plane with 228 passengers disappeared en route from Rio to Paris. The sobering news put any gripes I had about cramped quarters to rest.

Guarulhos International Airport was relatively restrained for Brazil’s busiest air hub. The excitement was provided by a clutch of teenie-boppers camped outside the international arrivals hall waiting for reggaeton singer called Rebelje. You can see him in the blue hat.

After snapping some pictures of the hubub, I asked a porter who the guy was and he wrote down the name on a business card. Subsequent Internet searches haven’t turned up any info, and the group of kids who came to see him was small, but vigorous.

Out of arrogance alone, I neglected to write down the cell phone number or taxi confirmation code  I needed to connect with Debby and Jose, my gracious hosts. My assumption was threefold:

1. I would be able to connect my laptop to a wifi network
2. Once online I could retrieve the necessary information
3. Buying a phone card to announce my arrival would be a cinch

Although I was able to complete all of the aforementioned tasks, I should have saved myself the hassle with a little planning ahead. After 90 or so minutes lolligagging in the airport, I was in a cab and on my way to the center of town.

Airports are  almost the same as hotel rooms. Their purpose is the same and beyond the language being spoken inside, they are hard to separate. (When I get to Nigeria, I will demonstrate how this is not always the case, but just bare with me, aight?) To know a city, you have to see it from the street level and Sao Paulo’s streets have a grizzly reputation. There is more than one car for every four people, in this city of over 20 million people and while there is a subway system, surface transportation is the dominant means of getting around.

The interminable gridlock has given rise to innovation of its own. According to the Guardian, Sao Paulo has a fleet of over 469 helicopters, to help those with the means avoid “Traffic jams [that] often stretch to more than 130 miles in greater Sao Paulo.” There are  [Click here for more audio] A hotel with a helipad on the rood is just around the corner from where I now sit. However, traffic is just one part of the equation. Crime is also a major factor. In addition to the boom in helicopter sales, The New York Times recently reported how crime in Sao Paulo is leading to an explosion in armored car sales. Chances are very good I will be taking a ride in one tomorrow.

While street crime seems to have a lot of folks on edge, I haven’t seen anything yet. What should have people worrying is the way people drive here. Motorcyclists zip between lanes of stalled cars with suicidal disregard, and drivers are fond of fishing their front ends before oncoming traffic as a way of merging lanes.

Beyond the traffic, I haven’t formed much of an opinion about Sao Paulo yet. The vehicle culture has dominated my 14 hours in town.  The city is enormous, and garish concrete reach into the sky as far as one can imagine. After a lunch of eggplant parmesan, beef cutlets and salad, I went for a walk up to Paulista, and watched as the sun set just after 5:45. Although summer was getting under way in New York, winter in Sao Paulo starts in two weeks. It was somewhat chilly today, with a slight breeze.

I don’t know whether I like Sao Paulo yet, but once I start meeting more people, I’m sure it will grow on me. Thanks to Debby’s networking prowess and a little social media, I’m starting to get the ball rolling from a business perspective. Tomorrow night I will be meeting the Sao Paulo CouchSurfing group at a bar called Genuino nearby and from here, I am confident that interviewing will really get underway.