Ouro Preto

Our first overnight bus trip was mostly uneventful. Good morning Ouro Preto.

That was the view from the balcony of the hostel we booked into. We were staying on a huge “plantation” just on the edge of town. There were some fruit trees and a lot of tangled undergrowth that I’m pretty sure hid a marijuana grow-op. The guy who checked us in was a bit surly but the other staff were friendly and the breakfast overlooking that view every morning was wonderful.

Ouro Preto is built on a bunch of hills, not pansy hills like Sao Paulo, but proper mountain foothills. Actually the hills are so absurdly tough that all the locals are in great shape. You have to climb at least two brutal hills to do anything in town, and that’s probably why we only saw one fat person the whole time we were there. . . and she was sitting in an internet café at the bottom of the valley in the centre of town. I assume she lives in the valley and never leaves. 

We saw more than one little car get stuck trying to navigate through town. Most of the streets don’t wind cutely or anything, they just head straight into a climb as if they’re trying to get it over with. I suppose that reflects a sort of Brazilian personality. . . assertive/direct. 

(Notice all the fit people struggling up the hill and all the cars with well-used handbrakes.)

On our first day, we went and looked at a billion different types of rocks in the “Museu de Ciência e Técnica da Escola de Minas” and then went rock shopping as is the requirement of all visiting tourists. We bought a few things but the great deals we were hoping for weren’t really there. Brazil is just an expensive place. Later that day we also went to see the great architect Aleijadinho’s bones.

Actually, the story of Aleijadinho is quite something. He was the son of a Portuguese architect and a black slave. He’s presumed to have learned the fundamentals of architecture and sculpture from his father but when still quite young, he joined the military. In his early 30s he developed some kind of debilitating condition, either syphilis or leprosy, and lost his fingers and toes (Aleijadinho means 'little cripple' – as affectionately as possible). Undaunted, he continued sculpting with hammers and chisels strapped to his arms and he went on to become one of Brazil’s most famous artists. If this all sounds a bit improbable to you, well, apparently there are some academics who question it as well. There has been some discussion about whether or not the little cripple really existed, as there isn’t much of a historical record about him.

Here’s some of his work - the church of St. Francis:

(from wikipedia)

Anyway, we took a look at somebody’s bones in a crypt and later that evening we found an awesome restaurant for dinner, got drunk on red wine and went to bed happy with our day of climbing hills.