ITACUERETABA

Photo: JP Capobianco
Vila Velha Park: evidence of mismanagement everywhere.

Revisiting to a place that strongly influenced our childhood not always is a pleasant experience. Often times it is extremely frustrating. This ensues from the fact, in some circumstances, that the outstanding characteristics of the place have lost meaning under the older gaze, or a new moment in life, or a different state of mind from that which inspired us when we made the discovery.

In other situations, revisiting is more painful. The place that influenced you may have been destroyed or defaced to such an extent as to lose the original attributes which fascinated you. This is a terrible feeling.

The fear of this experience marked my return, nearly thirty years later, to Itacueretaba, "the lost city of stone" located in the Vila Velha State Park, in the municipality of Ponta Grossa, in Paraná, approximately 80 km from Curitiba.

My parents took me on my first visit to the place. I was eleven years old at the time and was deeply fascinated by what I saw. A city made of enormous blocks of stone sculpted along thousands of years, with sky-high walls, deep, mysterious caves and dozens of curious shapes suggesting animal images and enormous objects.

Walking along narrow corridors between very high walls and the broad natural amphitheaters, I hoped at any time to meet a pre-historic being or representatives from unknown indigenous tribes. These were scenes that remained in my dreams for many years, not to mention the incredible suspended rock. Rock block perfectly balanced across the void between two walls, threatening to fall upon its spectators. In my imagination, I was certain it was placed there to defend the "city" from enemy attacks.

My father’s explanations about the origin of those shapes did not reassure my imagination. I honestly could not memorize that those were sandstone formations entailed by a large sand deposit approximately 300 million years ago, in the carbon period, where this region was under a thick sheet of ice. I also did not remember that the shapes originated from the movement of the masses of ice which accumulated tons of rocky fragments later sculpted by wind, rain and river erosion. For me that was the city of stone, one of the most mysterious sites I’d seen in my life. It was with these ideas in my mind that I returned to Itacueretaba, for an experience that brought me happiness and disappointment together.

Happiness because the rocks were still there, intact and imposing with their reddish tones reflecting the late afternoon sun. I reviewed the sphinx, the Indian, the bear, the camel, the enormous bow of a ship, the gigantic castle wall, the bride, the gorilla and the famous cup, the region’s hallmark. Even the incredible suspended rock still resisted, challenging those who, like myself, thought it would fall under the next gust of wind.

I was disappointed because, despite the fact that the power of the place still remained, its beauty is deeply jeopardized. Victimized by a disastrous mismanagement and lack of guidance and adequately define patters, the park was infested with enormous, ghastly-made signs, which run the gamut of obvious indications through ludicrous statements about the beauty and frailty of Planet Earth. Scattered throughout the park, blocking corridors or taking up the center of natural amphitheaters, are enormous concrete blocks that were used to support spotlights used in the now-defunct night illumination. Signals which demonstrate the carelessness of the management of one of the most important Brazilian natural monuments.

Strong enough to resist the relentless challenge of time, Itacueretaba does not seem prepared to cope with the insensitive barbarians which seek to turn it into a bad taste copy of Paulista avenue. Perhaps my childish imaginary wasn’t that wrong. The suspended rock really was placed there to prevent an attack. But the attack only came now.

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