Baroque Brazil

After being pandemic-restricted for some good two years, I could finally go back to Brazil and visit my family in the spring of 2022. The pandemic seclusion had allowed me to dig deep into my roots and my family history. It also took me to revisit Brazilian history which, unfortunately, had been so insufficiently grasped and appreciated during my formative years. Combining the personal with the national, I decided to revisit the town where my great grandfather, Lindolpho de Assis, was born.

Tiradentes, initially known as São José del Rei, is one of the many towns that emerged with the discovery of gold by the Paulista bandeirantes who adventured in the countryside in search of precious metals and indigenous people. They reached modern-day Minas Gerais in the beginning of the XVIII century where they discovered easily accessible, substantial deposits of gold. A major gold rush happened leading to territorial disputes and a war between the Paulistas and the newcomers.

Tiradentes still preserves its original character and is considered one of the gems of Brazilian colonial architecture. Signs of the gold economy are still vividly present in the Mother Church of Saint Anthony (Igreja Matriz de Santo Antonio): some 480 kilos of gold were used to paint its exquisitely decorated interior. Faithful to my family-motivated pilgrimage, I also visited the town’s municipal chamber, which my great great grandfather had once presided, and its famous water fountain, Chafariz São José. My grandmother used to tell me that there was an old saying in Tiradentes that went as follows: “Quem for a Tiradentes, tem que visitar a matriz, o chafariz e a familia Assis.” This can be loosely translated as ‘When in Tiradents, you must visit the church (matriz), the water fountain (chafariz) and the Assis family.”  I dutifully followed that advice, except that I could not visit the Assis family as it had long moved away…

Tiradentes

Church of Saint Anthony (Matriz)

Water fountain (chafariz)

Sao Joao del Rei

But once in the region, one must visit a few of the many other charming historic towns of Minas Gerais. Thus, I went to São João del Rei, a town named to honor king John V of Portugal. Like Tiradentes, São João del Rei had its origins in the discovery of gold in the region. The town was initially created as a staging post on the Royal Road (Estrada Real), which linked Ouro Preto (former Vila Rica) and other towns in the central region of the province to the port of Paraty (Rio de Janeiro).  Besides its historic and economic importance, São João del Rei is a university town and is also famous for being the birthplace of Tancredo Neves, the first president of Brazil after the military dictatorship. I was lucky enough to visit the town on a Sunday. Its normally busy city center was quiet and peaceful. Offices and stores (except for those gathering to tourists) were closed. But churches were open and busy with baptisms and mass celebrations. I felt transported back in time…

Moving forward, I headed to Congonhas to visit the famous Sanctuary of Bom Jesus do Matosinhos, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Unquestionably, in my humble opinion, this is the masterpiece of Francisco Antonio Lisboa, o Aleijadinho. The Sanctuary is richly decorated by the statues of the famous Brazilian sculptor. Sixty-six wooden statues, gems of the Brazilian baroque, were carved to illustrate the Stations of the Passion and are grouped into 6 chapels located on the forecourt leading to the church. That one, built on the top of a small hill, is guarded by 12 prophets sculpted in soapstone. Overlooking the town downhill, imposing respect and circumspection, the prophets remain vigilant and protect the church…

Congonhas

Church of the Good Jesus of Matosinhos

A prophet by Aleijadinho

Station of the Passion by Alejadinho

After Congonhas, I drove to Ouro Preto, formerly Vila Rica, birthplace of one of the first revolts against the Portuguese domination. The town seats beautifully among the often gentle (but sometimes unforgiving) hills of Espinhaço Mountains. It has an impressive historic center, also classified as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, with numerous palaces, graceful water fountains and beautiful churches. The latter are richly decorated with gold mined from the region. Among Ouro Preto many churches, the church of Saint Francis is another masterpiece by Alejadinho. But what impressed me most was its beautiful ceiling painted by Master Ataíde: it is so ethereal, colorful, and inspiring.

Ouro Preto

Ceiling by Master Ataide

Inconfidencia Museum, Ouro Preto

Mariana

It is said that some 800 tons of gold were sent to Portugal from the region. In fact, when I visited the Mafra National Palace, in Portugal, a gigantic palace-convent complex built by king John V, a sign by the ticket office indicated “this palace was built with gold from Brazil”. Between what remains in churches and in monumental architecture, what has been officially recorded and, of course, what escaped Portuguese control and was smuggled, one can only imagine the volume of gold produced by the region… 

Mariana is some 30 km away from Ouro Preto and was the first town, city, and capital of Minas Gerais.  As in other historic cities, the presence of the catholic church is inescapable. Several churches dot the town. Two of them, the church of Our Lady of Carmo and the church of Saint Francis, are separated by just a few feet, on the main public square, facing the pillory - that dreadful symbol and instrument of authority during colonial times.

My trajectory of historic towns took me to Salvador, Bahia, the very first capital of Brazil during the colonial times. Salvador is a trip, going well beyond its historical importance. The city is located on the All-Saints Bay and is protected by numerous forts that were not always capable of repelling invasions; the Dutch, for instance, occupied the city for one year in 1624. Salvador is also the guardian and promoter of the culture and traditions inherited from the many Africans who were forcefully brought to Brazil. Their influence is noticeable in religion, local culinary, music, arts, and most importantly, in its inhabitants. The city’s overall captivating charm is clearly black African. I never forgot what a Ghanaian colleague of mine once told me: “Ana, when in Salvador, I feel as if I were in Accra!”. Undoubtedly, the city has a unique vibrance, unparalleled by any other Brazilian town. It is a very special place.

Historic Center, Salvador

Church of Saint Francis

Fort of Saint Mary, Barra

Itaparica

When in Salvador, one must take the ferry and visit Itaparica, a gracious island at the entrance of the All-Saints Bay. Also, the stage of corsairs’ attacks and Dutch occupation, currently the island is a peaceful place providing visitors with beautiful vistas and relaxation.

But enough said! I am a better photographer than writer. So, check these two galleries on this website: Minas and Bahia.  Yes, a picture is worth a thousand words…

On the ancestors' route: Portugal

During the pandemic, I started researching my origins. Having acquired some knowledge about my family history, I decided to visit the places where my ancestors came from. This is the third leg of what now I call the “Route of the Ancestors”. The Route has 4 stops, each corresponding to a place where the families of my paternal and maternal grandparents came from. 

I started by my maternal side. My first stop on this journey was the town of Tiradentes (Minas Gerais, Brazil) where my maternal grandmother’s father, Lindolpho de Assis, was born in 1860 (you can find images of Tiradentes in this website, in the gallery entitled “Minas”). I believe his family was originally from Portugal, but I haven’t found any record (yet) that indicates where they came from. My last and fourth stop will be in Brazil as well, in the town of Corrego da Prata (Rio de Janeiro), where Albertina Reis, my maternal grandmother’s mother, was born. One of these days…

Before returning to Brazil, however, I wanted to visit other places, further away both in distance and in time.  The second stop on my Route was Seville (Andalucia, Spain). Seville was the birthplace of a very, very distant relative of my paternal grandmother. Bartolomeu Bueno came to Brazil in 1581 on board of a Spanish armada. He was a carpenter.

Most of my ancestors came from Portugal, from different places, in different times. The family of my paternal grandmother was from the Azores Islands. Antonio de Souza Breves and Maria de Jesus Fernandes came to Brazil in 1752. He was from the Island of São Jorge; she was from the Island of Terceira. The Azores, therefore, was a mandatory stop.

In São Jorge, I went to Ribeira Seca, the village where Antonio was born. I also visited the church of São Tiago, where I believe his mother, Maria de Souza, was baptized. Among the islands I visited, São Jorge is my favorite. It is gorgeous, rustic and untamed, not yet taken over by hordes of tourists, so one can get a real feeling for the place.

Naturally, I also went to Terceira. It felt somehow more cosmopolitan and developed than the other islands, particularly its main city, Ponta Delgada. But the island is not without natural charms: the unforgettable natural pools of Biscoitos being one of them. In Terceira, I went to the church where Antonio and Maria got married before going to Brazil.  Unfortunately, an earthquake destroyed the original church, and the church of Santa Luzia had to be rebuilt completely. Very little of its original self remains…

Once in the Azores, island hopping is a must. I started on the main island, São Miguel, also known as the green island. No wonder: very green indeed! Besides all the green, São Miguel has chin dropping vistas, volcanic lakes, thermal pools, pineapple and tea plantations, and zillions of cows! The most famous cheese from the archipelago is from São Jorge though…

From São Miguel, I flew to Faial and already in the air, I was welcomed by the imposing figure of Mount Pico, the tallest mountain in Portugal at 2,351 meters. Mount Pico would be visible from almost everywhere in Faial and São Jorge, and it soon became my favorite Azorean view. Surrounded by clouds that kept moving around it in a gracious dance, Mount Pico was a sight that I could not get tired of. Simply hypnotic…

Faial was the most layback of the islands I visited; it was relaxing there. Walking around the neighborhood of Praia do Porto Pim by sunset felt like a balm: pure calm and peace. Faial, however, has a tragic history. In 1957 the island was devastated by a volcanic eruption (Capelinhos volcano) that lasted for months and left the island covered in ashes, if not with a somewhat larger territory, in a not-so-distant demonstration of how volcanic islands are formed.

Sao Tiago, Ribeira Seca

Ponta Delgada, Terceira

Sao Miguel

Mount Pico and Porto Pim beach

From the Azores, I headed to continental Portugal, where many stops in my route waited for me. I first stopped in Lisbon. My great grandmother, Maria Madalena d’Oliveira was born and baptized there (Santa Catarina church), but regretfully I didn’t have time to visit that church. I spent most of my short time in Lisbon buried in the National Library, researching the personal archives of my great grandfather, João José de Mendonça Cortez. He was not from Lisbon, but from the charming town of Olhão in the Algarve. He did live in Lisbon for many years; he also lived in Coimbra.

Lisbon was thus a quick stopover on my way to Porto, where I believed Maria Madalena’s father, João Gomes d’Oliveira e Souza, was buried. One source indicated he was buried in the historical cemetery of Our Lady of Lapa (by the same church where the heart of D. Pedro I of Brazil and IV of Portugal now rests). I even had the number of his grave and all. Alas, that information did not match anything I saw in the cemetery. I walked its several pathways back and forth many times but could not find it. This small frustration did not spoil my stay in Porto. On the contrary, I loved the city! It is monumentally beautiful. All these churches covered in exquisite azulejos; its hilly streets and… the light! That beautiful light!

Our Lady of Lapa cemetery

Porto

Coimbra University

Lousa Mountains

My next stop was Coimbra, the city famous for hosting one of the oldest universities in Europe. João José studied and taught there too. A visit to the university was another requirement on my route. Coimbra is also the birthplace of the only one, among the various ancestors I mention here, that I met: my paternal grandfather, also named João.  A Coimbra native, he emigrated to Brazil, as a child, around 1910. Coincidently, another relative of mine was also from the Coimbra region. My maternal grandfather’s father, Luiz Francisco, was from Vale de Nogueira, a hamlet in the Lousã mountains, near Coimbra. No wonder he emigrated to Brazil in 1891. Picturesque and hanging on the mountain, Vale de Nogueira is nothing more than a handful of narrow alleys contemplating a superb landscape…

My last stop on this leg of the Route of the Ancestors was Olhão and its surroundings, in the Algarve, birthplace of my great grandfather as I mentioned above. And on my way there, I made several stops - unrelated to my ancestors – in the beautiful region of Alentejo. I visited a handful of graceful towns and villages - Ferreira do Alentejo, Beja, Serpa, Mertola, Alcacer do Sal- many of them surrounded by walls and fortress aiming at defending themselves from the Moors, the Christians and/or the Spaniards.

Beja, Alentejo

Mertola, Alentejo

A street in Olhao, Algarve

Olhao

It felt good to step on the very grounds my ancestors once stepped on. Many, many years ago…

Rome: an eternal discovery

I have lost count of how many times I have been to Rome. It does not matter. Every time, there are new things to see, to experience and to contemplate. Observing the sunset on the Capitoline Hill is one of my favorite activities while in the city. That beautiful end of the afternoon light! It turns all to gold, as if by magic! In as much Rome is a very sophisticated city, it is the simple pleasures it offers that attract me the most. To walk aimlessly on its old streets, getting lost, paying attention to the architecture, seeing the ruins, observing the people, going to a bar for an espresso or one panino… So much history, one can feel the presence of the past, the glorious moments, the difficult times, the creativity, the ingenuity of this fantastic city and its inhabitants. There is so much to explore. But “the problem” is that new sites eventually become old acquaintances, and one wants to revisit them. No way I go to Rome and skip a short visit to Saint Peter. That immense space where one feels delightfully small amidst huge statues of popes who insisted on asserting their greatness, on not being forgotten by us.  Likewise, I cannot skip a walk in the ghetto and seeing the Marcello theater. I never forget to revisit Piazza del Popolo either, that beautiful open space centered by an obelisk and surrounded by churches… Another must do activity is paying my respects to the one and only Piazza Navona. Its fountains are inhabited by mythological creatures that seem to be alive. How can I not go there again and again?

After visiting the city so many times, I started embarking on “thematic” explorations: the Caravaggio route, following Bernini, searching for Michelangelo, the renaissance palace exploration, the obelisk hunt, the baroque churches journey, the Roma antica trail. It gave me goose bumps to walk on via Appia Antica, on the very stones Roman armies stepped on many centuries ago. What a treat to experience something I only knew from history books. Curiosity and a pair of comfortable shoes is all that it is needed.

I know I still have much to discover. There are more than 900 churches, over 80 museums, and another equally impressive number of archeological sites in the city. I certainly have not seen them all! So, I will keep going back. Rome, la bella città, the eternal city, is an endless discovery.