In the jungle

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Generally, the thought of a 17 hour journey to anywhere would fill my mind with images of cramped tedium; hundreds of kilometres being pounded out while I shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the other 40 passangers squashed in around me (plus the obligatory screaming baby) and flicking through my music collection for the twentieth time.
However, I was in Argentina and had discovered the wonderous phrase cama suite . By paying roughly the same as a train ticket from Norwich to London, I was able to upgrade to a bus with two floors which were divided into sections, each containing two seats which reclined a full 180 degrees. These bed-like wonders came with a pillow and blankets, a view of the television, full meals and hot drinks and even a little champagne before bedtime. As I settled down to watch the first of four movies (all involving aeroplane disasters), I wondered why people chose to pay hundreds of pesos to fly around the country when the standard of buses was so high.
I emerged 17 hours later, fully rested at 9am the next morning and was immediatly hit with the wet humidity of the jungle town of Puerto Iguazu. Dripping but excited, I made my way to the hotel and spent the rest of the day acclimizising by the pool and planning my journey to the Iguazu falls National Park.

Speeding down the river on an inflatable raft was how I caught my first glimpse of the Iguazu waterfalls, curling and crashing through the jungle as far as I could see and sat open mouthed as cameras clicked around me. Although I had read many times the geographical facts of the waterfalls (2km accross, 80m high), seeing the thousands of cubic metres of calm water being tipped over the edge and turning into bubbling, white spray gave me shivers, despite the muggy air.
After much gaping and picture taking, the man in charge of raft told us to put any valubles in a waterproof bag, gunned the engine and wheeled the boat round towards the falls. I thought he would proabably stop just close enough to get a little misted but he plunged us right through the waterfall and I felt the boat tip onto its side as water came heavily down, instantly soaking my hair and clothes.
After I disembarked, wading my way through the water caught in the bottom of the raft, I spent the rest of the morning exploring the series of very well maintained catwalks which allow visitors to get very close to the falls. I marvelled at the infrastructure of the park which had been newly built a few years ago after floods had destroyed previous trails and which now allowed disabled people to get to almost any area of the park without difficulty. Even the Garganta del Diablo (Devil's Throat) is easily accessable, with a fun railway (included in the park entrance) taking visitors up to the trail which leads to the most impressive area, where water crashes down from three different sides, creating a huge spiral of spray, lit up with rainbows.

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Photos

The calm water just before the Devil's Throat
In the early 20th century, tourist could take a rowing boat out to this point where a local would then furiously row against the current. This was stopped after the inevitable happened