San Ignacio Red dirt roads sparsely populated by skipping children, sleeping dogs, tethered horses and an occasional horse and cart or scooter--my kind of town. It seemed far from the European-like bustle of Buenos Aires and more like the rural, subtropical Latin America that I love--houses in a riot of colors, brilliant flowers everywhere, pink azaleas in this case, palms and flowering native trees lining the streets, tiny kiosks selling the same treats on every block, and a toucan perched in a loquat tree outside my dorm room window. The cacophony of barking dogs, unfettered by human chastisement, was the only sound punctuating the nights. I spent a lazy week reading, walking to the Parana River, exploring trails (where I saw my first capybara--a cute, furry, roly-poly rodent the size of portly retriever), visiting the jungle
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