C O N T E N T S

 Escape from BA [Jun 28th 1999]

As I suspected (or rather hoped) there was no need for all the concern about the person who went missing from the hostel last night. The girl in question had a sister who was quite worried about her but it turned out she’d just gone to the cinema. The search party effort was pretty poor by the sounds of it – apparently a group of people wandered up and down a few streets for a bit then spent the rest of the evening in a bar.

We said goodbye to everyone in the hostel – the common room was again full of bodies: lying on sofas, slumped in chairs and generally enhancing the feeling of clutter.

Wade came with us to the bus station as he needed to reserve some tickets for himself.

It was a very grey day in Buenos Aires, as we drove to the bus terminal it began to rain. The traffic on the way to the terminal was chaotic with taxis jostling for spaces in the busy wet roads. On arriving at the terminal we said our farewells to Wade then sat down for a bite to eat. I had possibly the most tasteless sandwich I’ve ever had in my life, thin slices of ham and cheese between flattened white bread that looked as if it had just been passed through a mangle – $3.50! Money just slips out of your hands in this city, it is time to leave.

The bus took us 3½ hours north of Buenos Aires in driving rain. We crossed many bridges that passed over extremely high, fast flowing rivers bordered with lots of small patches of waterlogged woodland. I saw quite a few ramshackle houses on stilts and homes that would  be classed as derelict sheds in the UK. There were also large housing projects on sprawling patches of land that were obviously aimed at the more well off seeing as they had tennis courts and swimming pools – all advertised with billboards displaying smiling happy faces.

Our stop was the usual roadside café/shop catering for coaches and trucks (food, beer and a wide selection of porn mags). It also had a big grab machine containing lots of soft toys and, bizarrely, a mannequin decked out in a full suit of armour.

Back on the coach more crap movies, this time The Quest with Jean-Claude Van Damme, which was basically a film about bunch of blokes getting together for a fight. Premise? Fighting… plot? Fighting – just a big punch up really. This was followed by Daylight with Sylvester Stallone best summarised as two hours of dumb amusement and a lot of shouting in a collapsed tunnel.

One more stop was made in the evening giving us an opportunity to stretch our legs before trying to sleep on the bus – and all the while, the rain continued to pour down.

 Fresh Air at the Frontera [Jun 29th 1999]

When I woke early in morning we were still some way off Puerto Iguazú. The coach made slow progress as it kept stopping to drop people off. The bright lights of various garages and the bumpy road made it very difficult to get back to sleep. At about 6:15 the driver appeared to test how long he could bear listening to static on the radio. After he drove over a speed bump way too fast I gave up trying to sleep and looked out of the window. The scenery had changed dramatically, I was now looking at thick dense forest, an abundance of palms and tropical flowers were also starting to make an appearance.

When we arrived at Puerto Iguazú our usual hunt for lodgings was made extremely easy by an English/Australian couple who were just leaving. They told us of a place to stay that cost $12 for a double with private bathroom - they gave us all the information then jumped on their bus. The accommodation was nearby so we walked to it and found it to be a veritable mansion compared to our last digs. Open courtyards, wooden walkways and yes, a private bathroom. It was a good start.

We caught up on the sleep we’d missed during the journey then woke in the afternoon and went for a walk around the town. It felt so good to be away from the noise, hustle bustle and dirty air of the city. The clean air was one of the first things we noticed, it was perfumed with the aromatic smells of the forest and flowers and was very much welcomed. The earth that slowly began to stain our boots was very red – Australian red - and it seemed to cover everything from the footpaths to the streetlights. But more than anything else we noticed how incredibly quiet it was. There were very few people about, no one in the stores or restaurants and only a few passers by on the street. Storeowners were standing outside on the pavements as they literally had no customers – the place was dead. I think the fact that firstly, it was off season, secondly Paraguay and Brazil (just on the border) are cheaper and thirdly Paraguay was hosting the Copa America 99 which meant that there were very few people around – it was great though, definitely the right time to come.

We had a meal in an empty restaurant, walked the empty streets then popped into an empty tourist information office before walking to the point where Argentina borders Brazil and Paraguay on the Río Paraná and the Rio Iguazú. From our vantage point we could see all three countries with buildings hidden in the lush vegetation. On our side was a concrete pointed pillar painted in the colours of the Argentinean flag, across the rivers we could see that Brazil and Paraguay had similar pillars except Paraguay’s appeared to be sitting on an unfinished dilapidated platform. Beneath us, just over the cliff edge, flowed the wide impressive rivers – we were standing at what amounted to a huge wet T-junction separating the three countries. We sat and looked at this refreshing change of scenery whilst in the distance a black airship hovered over Foz do Iguaçu in Brazil.

While the sun struggled to find a gap in the clouds we walked back along the red earth covered road then took a right turn down a muddy track towards an orchid farm. On finding the place it was pretty obvious that orchids were out of season. The owners were busy potting and planting them in every space they had available, hanging from baskets, grafted to trees, in the ground, in pots – there were so many plants in such a small space that the place must look spectacular when all the flowers are in bloom.

I guess it all fitted really, empty shops, no tourists, closed restaurants and no flowers in bloom.

We quickly whipped round a couple of the supermarkets and then returned to our comfortable accommodation. Outside we could hear crickets chirping away which gave a tropical feel to our new surroundings – surroundings in which I felt surprisingly at home. Whilst we were relaxing there was a knock at the door,

“What time would you like breakfast?” – not the sort of service we’re used to and not bad at all for $12 a night.

The family running the guesthouse were all extremely friendly as were all the other people we’d met during the day.

 Water Water Everywhere [Jun 30th 1999]

Huge, crashing, frothing torrents of water in vast quantities, rising plumes of spray and a constant thundering background sound no matter where you stand. Iguazú falls was quite simply the most impressive array of waterfalls I have ever seen. I first compared it to Victoria Falls which is in fact bigger but Iguazú wins hands down for its variety of falls and incredible views – it was simply stunning.

We had breakfast brought to our room early so we could get to Iguazú Falls before it became crowded with tourists. Once we got to our destination, about 15k outside the town, we were dropped off in a car park near the Sheraton Hotel, which boasts rooms with views of the falls. We made our way to an observation tower then climbed to the top of a spiral staircase where we stood on a balcony and took in a view of all the waterfalls giving us a taste of what we were about to experience. In the foreground were two huge cascades of water, Salto Bossetti and Salto San Martín, which in turn had hundreds of other waterfalls around them. Each one was an impressive sight on its own but far in the distance we could see Garganta del Diablo (throat of the devil) which even from a distance seemed to dwarf everything around it.

The authorities responsible for the upkeep of the park had done an excellent job of fitting many walkways that snaked through the misty foliage taking visitors to some great viewpoints. We trod along one of the walkways that took us down into the forest and across some of the smaller waterfalls. The word ‘small’ is used strictly in a relative sense when describing these waterfalls because they were all on the large side. One fall that we crossed which dropped down about 100 metres between two cliffs had swifts darting in and out of it. On closer inspection we could see about 30 of the birds huddled together on the side of a damp cliff being constantly sprayed by the downpour.

Another part of the walkway took us a few metres away from a waterfall that was about 50 metres wide. The spray managed to soak us both as we almost disappeared in a mist that was tossed about by the huge draught caused by the falls. All around us we could see vegetation being blown by the wind, covered in a fine spray but still managing to hold on.

We embarked on another walk taking us on a route towards Salto San Martín this time getting a chance to view some of the falls from above as we stood only a few feet from where they dropped off. The water was rushing at a heady pace just below our feet before being squeezed off the edge and tumbling into the depths below. At times the base of the falls were obscured from view simply because of the spray.

After sitting on a bench and eating our sandwiches, accompanied with a roaring background sound, we boarded a bus that took us closer to Garganta del Diablo. We took a short drive through more lush forest and came to an area where tin boats were taking tourists to a walkway near the falls. A brief glance confirmed that the walkway used to extend all the way to the falls but is must have collapsed – hence the $4 boat ride. A guide tried to sell us an extra tour through some of the forest in a boat,

“Will there be any birds?” asked Jayne “any pajeros?”

“You mean pájaros” said the guide “don’t say pajero, that is a bad word”. He later confirmed to us that in Latin American Spanish it means ‘wanker’ so we told him about the Mitsubishi 4WD of the same name.

The tin boat took us to what was left of the walkway where we disembarked and then continued on foot. We knew we were in for something special but had no idea how spectacular, vast and imposing the sight would be. It was the most incredible of all the falls we saw during the day – the icing on the cake – it was awesome. From the viewing platform we could see a semicircular bite in the rock where the water first dropped down – a small drop before the giant drop that followed. The sheer quantity of water running over the cliff was unimaginable. There were corners where water was tumbling over the edge in more than two places resulting in waterfalls crashing violently into each other.

The sound, a loud constant growl, was almost deafening and the amount of spray and mist was in such huge quantities that remarkably, it was forming its own cloud system above the falls. We were able to stand and watch as the rain cloud generator formed grey clouds above us before they drifted off into the distance. We had superb weather all day with very few clouds but at this waterfall, they were unavoidable no matter what the weather.

We noticed that if you watched the crashing water long enough then looked at an exposed cliff face, the rocks seemed to move with the same motion of the tumbling water.

It was impossible to see the bottom of the chasm – the spray obscured it from view at all times – you were occasionally able to make out the movement of the river below but always through a mass of steamy spray. The whole thing was breathtaking – nature sticking two fingers up to any man made wonder.

As we returned to the shore in the boat, behind us we could see only plumes of spray rising way up into the sky and into a cloud above.

We had seen a few butterflies during the day but when we got out of the boat we were suddenly surrounded by dozens of them, each one completely different. Bright oranges, vibrant reds, one with a black and white bull’s-eye pattern on the underside of its wings and a mixture of blacks, red and orange on the top. It was a real treat to see so many different species of the same insect in such a variety of colours, patterns and size.

We sat down for some refreshment in a cafe that was selling a fair amount of the usual tacky crap. There was a kind of beaded curtain hanging above us that looked like it was made from joined pieces of leather but on closer inspection turned out to be plastic, just like most of the other things for sale. Masses of tacky plastic crap. I considered buying some postcards that were on offer, three for $1, but decided against it due to the fact they were so tired, sun faded and curled. They looked like they’d been on display for years so it was little wonder no one was buying them. We took the bus back to the Salto dos Hermanas area then walked the same route we had done in the morning. This time we took a detour down to the shoreline, walking in front of high damp cliffs and between large dark boulders. We boarded a larger tin boat for the short crossing to Isla San Martín. A large 20 seater Zodiac style craft with two 140cc engines on the back screamed past us full of excited shouting passengers. Our boat stopped at a small sandy beach area on the island where we walked up nearly 200 steps to the top of the cliff. We walked around through yet more mist, which caused rainbows to appear everywhere you looked. On reaching the lookout point we had a full on view of Salto San Martín and another soaking to go with it. Our final trek took us on a circular route round the island as we walked beneath circling columns of huge birds that flew above us. We stopped at a viewpoint where a large hole in a cliff framed the waterfalls behind it and above us. All along the ledge and in the trees we could see more of the huge hawk like birds. (Where’s Jeff Sauer our bird spotter friend when you need him?)

We had basically spent the entire day looking at waterfalls from 10am to 5pm – that’s a lot of water passing in front of your face in one day.
 

 Nothing Achieved [Jul 1st 1999]

Today was another one of those days you come across every now and then when backpacking where you have to get a load of things organised but don’t seem able to get past the first hurdle.

First on the list was to obtain a Brazilian visa for Jayne, nothing is ever straightforward when it comes to this sort of thing. Despite finding the area marked on the Lonely Planet map stating where the embassy was we discovered it had moved. A helpful woman in the tourist information office pointed us in the direction of their new premises so off we went and this time we were successful. All manner of questions had to be asked at the consulate: How long before we have to enter the country? Is it multiple entry? How long is it valid for once in the country? Will we be stamped in and out of Brazil when we pass through the country (briefly) to get to Paraguay or do we go straight through to Paraguay? What made all this even more difficult was that Jayne was speaking a second language to someone who was also speaking a second language. The bloke behind the counter tried his best to explain the situation in his pidgin Spanish interspersed with Portuguese. The visa was eventually processed while we waited although it cost $45.50 – it’s a good job the Paraguayan one was free.

Next on our list was a trip to the post office to send off a roll of posters we’d purchased in Buenos Aires. This turned out to be very straightforward – not so for obtaining cash though. What appeared to be the town’s only cash point machine was being repaired so we had to give up on that little quest. We then headed to another tourist information office to find out if we could obtain tickets for a Copa America game being played in Cuidad del Este in Paraguay. They showed us where the ticket office was, near the town football pitch, so off we went to find it. Once we were in the vicinity we walked past it, turned round, walked past it again then finally found it although it was basically just another tour operator selling tickets.

After telling us they could only get tickets for Argentinean games they then informed us that we could buy tickets for any game for $60. This was a bit disappointing as it was really outside our budget (especially considering we had just blown a load of cash on a Brazilian visa). We told them that it was too costly so they suggested we return at 6:00pm as they might be able to obtain cheaper ones.

At this point it began to throw it down with rain. Another task for the day was to find an Internet place, which we did, but it was closed, just our luck. We donned our jackets and wandered back to downtown Puerto Iguazú then sat down for a pizza in a Chinese restaurant. The rain had stopped by the time we arrived but then it absolutely belted it down which made us reflect on how lucky we were to have had clear skies yesterday when visiting the falls. The cash point machine was now fixed so we finally withdrew some money - but now we had the problem that it was all in 100’s and no one in the town appears to have any change – oh well, a minor inconvenience. We discovered that the internet place was now open so we wandered in to send a few emails. The problem this time was that the machines kept crashing, Jayne lost pages of text she written in reply to one of her messages. It doesn’t just rain…

Back at the guest house I completed reading the Reprieve and got stuffed a couple of times at backgammon on the Game Boy.

Six o’clock soon came round so we decided to check on the Copa America tickets. Back at the ticket office the staff had completely changed which meant no one had the slightest idea what we were talking about,

“We were told to come back at 6:00pm for cheaper tickets” we told them.

They went through the whole process of offering us the same $60 tickets again so we said, “no, cheaper”. It was all getting a bit tedious. A few phone calls were made and eventually they offered us tickets for Brazil v Mexico at $40 each. We agreed to buy the tickets and consequently asked to fill in some forms as part of the receipt. We handed over one of our $100 notes and where then told to pick the tickets up the following day. The only problem was (and not unsurprisingly) they had no change. One of the women in the office disappeared up the road with our cash as we waited for the change. She’d been gone for so long that by the time she got back we were told the agent would be arriving with the tickets in five minutes. They said we could stay if we wanted to collect the tickets today – ‘no problem’ we thought. So we waited for five minutes, the phone rang, there was more Spanish conversation and once the receiver had been put down we were told that the tickets wouldn’t be available until Saturday! A complete waste of time, we would have left the town by Saturday. We handed back the receipt, they gave us back our cash and we went back to the guesthouse. One hour to achieve nothing - this is South America, mañana mañana – oh well. All I had left to do was to sew the buttons back on my shirt, fix the hole in my pants and patch up my trousers, scintillating stuff.

As Jayne practiced her French and Russian (just in case the next guest house happens to be run by a family from the Far East or French Guiana I guess?) we had a brief thunderstorm with only a couple but nonetheless impressive thunderclaps and lightening flashes.
 

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