by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
There are various ways to understand vacations.
For nearly everyone, it means rushing around and searching for excitement. Of course, thrills can range from sea or mountain views to luxury hotels or encounters with the jungle, from immersing ourselves in history with classic sights in Minas or Bahia to experiencing the psychedelic chaos looming before us. Anything goes as long as it delivers excitement. Intense, sensational emotions at 100 miles per hour to overshadow the tremors and fears of daily life.
What should we think about this vacation system? Let’s simplify the issue. Since every emotion causes fatigue, the idea behind exciting vacations is to cure one kind of fatigue with another. I find this solution questionable. Common sense suggests that the proper remedy for fatigue, rather than more fatigue, is rest.
But then, how should one rest? While this question has no simple answer, it is not by ending a vacation gasping for breath.
Nothing feels riskier than giving advice on how to rest. As for me, I have found a happy formula for this year and want to share it with readers.
Mine is, of course, the life of a São Paulo resident—a human being who lives, eats, and sleeps amid noise, walks on potholed streets, breathes polluted air, works at an exhausting pace, and is forced by tough circumstances to rush even activities that should be more peaceful and relaxing, like shopping, giving, and receiving Christmas presents. Therefore, I was longing for normalcy. I wanted to find a place to immerse myself in a different life. A peaceful life at a human pace would let me embrace stability, tranquility, balance, and a healthy, carefree attitude toward others. Not grand works of art, dazzling riches, enticing luxuries, or even alarming psychedelia.
Moderate abundance, serious and calm work, well-being, and a zest for life, with a general balance between people and things: this is what I discovered in a city not far from São Paulo. I found it quite unexpectedly. While on vacation at a friend’s farm, I relaxed in its nearby town as usual. There, I stumbled upon this oasis. Needless to say, I didn’t miss any other day there. Every afternoon, after my siesta, I would shift from the calm countryside to the city, exchanging one tiredness for another but trading one form of tranquility for a different one. That’s how I did my “tranquility tourism.”
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Three squares, each with its own character, set the tone for the city. They are connected by streets lined with flowering trees, paved with tasteful cobblestones, and maintained in a way that would make São Paulo residents jealous. These streets form the city’s backbone. In the surrounding area, cheerful and unpretentious houses climb small hills and spread out toward a river, where the city blends with the countryside. One notices single-story houses everywhere from the Empire’s end to the Republic’s beginning. Buildings with calm and serious facades, generally facing the street, with well-ornamented door and window eaves, comfortably spread across large plots of land conducive to shade and rest.
The main square revolves around a church that symbolizes good taste and modesty. Strong, serious, and solemn, it functions as the true spiritual heart of the city. Older buildings, newer houses, modern bank branches, and even a skyscraper flank it. Yet the church seems unaware of all this, immersed in the calmness of its nostalgic past. When the bell rings, its harmonious chimes echo across the landscaped square, resonating with the people and surroundings as if echoing times long gone.
Another nearby square is also centered around a church. However, this one feels light and festive, with a touch of the gracefulness typical of colonial buildings. It seems to smile innocently and invite passersby to smile back.
The third square is a public park: a large bird sanctuary, with leafy trees, children playing, and in one corner an old tram that seems to be sleeping the deep sleep of a macrobian. A little further away, the grand facade of the “little palace” of a Baron of the Empire appears, tastefully painted.
On the streets, working people pass by without rushing. From the window of a single-story house, a housewife, peacefully pausing her chores, chats about everything and nothing with two friends passing by. In the nearby store, which is well-stocked but not crowded, customers enter at a relaxed pace, are served promptly, choose calmly, and leave satisfied, exchanging greetings and appreciation. In short, here the past has not become molded, the present has not gone crazy, and the future does not scare. People live their everyday life well.
Which city is this, a place that might seem dull to thrill seekers but feels like a magical Eden to tourists seeking true relaxation? It fully lives up to its name. The name derives from its revered patron saint, who appears to shield it from the stagnation and lethargy of old environments and from modern tragedies, excesses, and chaos. The patron saint is Our Lady of Amparo. Now you know the name of the city.