Tom Farias: Ouro Preto brings the history of Minas Gerais in print, like a palimpsest

I spent a weekend in Ouro Preto. It was an unforgettable trip. I already knew this historic mining town. I’ve been to it a few times, for work and travel. This time, on this new trip, it was different. I enjoyed the city, with its slopes, narrow streets and fully preserved 18th century mansions.

I really like history and architecture. I enjoy walking wherever I travel. I can consider myself a wanderer. Two friends of mine are currently in Colombia –Valéria Lourenço and Rebecca Aletheia, the latter known as the “black traveler”. Valéria is also not far behind: she has traveled to several African countries, resulting in the beautiful book of poems “Aya’Ba” (Caos & Letras Editora, 2021).

In the case of Ouro Preto, it was quite different this time. I didn’t roam the city like a tourist. Anyone who approaches and says goodbye returns: “Have a nice trip”. Sometimes it sucks, but it’s part of hospitality. I had an adventure in particular, both on the way out from Belo Horizonte, where I spent a beautiful afternoon with my friend Afonso Borges, and on the way back, then on to the planned destination.

Minas Gerais is so big and so complex. Imagine that, starting from the Governador Israel Pinheiro Bus Terminal, inaugurated in 1971, as “the largest and most modern in Latin America”, now outdated, I began to live my drama. We are talking about the state with the highest number of municipalities in the federation, 853, leaving behind São Paulo, with 645, and Rio Grande do Sul, with 497.

I couldn’t take the bus from Pássaro Verde (the only company that runs the Belo Horizonte x Ouro Preto route). The commotion, from the window, made any advances and waits fearful. I followed by taxi: the cost of the ride is approximately ten times greater than the fare for this driving.

Arriving in Ouro Preto, an hour and a half later, relieved me after the great stress. I was received by the couple Rosane Soares and Deivid Dias – he was a “natural musician”, from the land, from the city; she, an “entrepreneurial psychologist”, a carioca who speaks “Mineirês”, very affectionate and tasty. They stayed almost amicably at the comfortable and refined Pousada Minas Gerais.

I stopped crying over the bad fate I was having and went to enjoy the good life of Ouro Preto. The local food, served at the Mr. Chef restaurant, and its cachacinha, are the delicacies that attract me the most. I get fed up. With the couple acting as good cicerones, the pessimistic atmosphere acquired along the way relieved me. I walked the streets, tapping my flip-flops along the century-old pavement. I am happy to do this. Another thing that comforts me: touching the walls of buildings, where, like a palimpsest, the entire history of Minas Gerais at the time of wealth —gold exploration, slave trade, Inconfidência Mineira—is printed, is something that fascinates me a lot.

Two things I still highlight as positive in this weekend trip, which, as everyone knows, doesn’t last at all: the visit to the Chico Rei Mine, where I met the matriarch Marize, who bought me a cigar, and the current owner of the place, explored for tourism, Tuninho da Mina. The other highlight was the birthday party of the young influencer Thiago Henrique, held at the house where a relative of Marília de Dirceu lived. Can you imagine a party where guests arrive with drinks, sit at the arranged tables and are served by the host? That’s right. Apart from the soup, since most of the guests are from the local music — a potpourri that goes from MPB to the worst sertanejo. A diversion. I add the couples shuffling. Sensational.

But my last few hours in the city were, again, dramatic. First, because I hadn’t bought those souvenirs. And it gives you up and down hills. The other was the purchase of the return ticket. The Ouro Preto bus station simply does not exist. To make matters worse, the company Útil, which would bring me to São Paulo, had the ticket system blocked, which forced me to pay twice for the same (and expensive) ticket, to board an executive bus at night, with a stinky bathroom, paralyzing and uncomfortable. It was 12 hours of suffocation and a lot of fatigue on arrival. So far I have not been refunded the promised refund.

Apart from that, I’m dying to return to Ouro Preto, making the way to Belo Horizonte, where I have many friends, such as the plastic artist Bebel Miranda and the writer Eduardo de Assis Duarte.

Wait for me, historic cities and friends of all times. Soon, the good traveler returns to the mining clod.