Drenched in Nostalgia

Iguazu Falls
The Iguazu Falls Straddling Argentina and Brazil, the Iguazu Falls may not be the largest waterfalls in the world, but they are said to be the most beautiful. Surrounded by national parks filled with tropical rainforest, these 275 falls are sights not easily forgotten. And it is this place that Amanda, Shelley, Pancho and I endured a 20 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to see.

My first bus trip in South America was unexpectedly pleasant. I thought the standard of the transport would be similar to that I experienced in Costa Rica three years ago - smelly, jam-packed, slow and uncomfortable. One of my friends had an old Costa Rican man sit on her lap without asking for three hours! Fortunately, I was greeted with a modern bus with digital TVs, fully reclining seats and air conditioning - just as well, because our 17 hour trip was extended once the highway was closed due to rioting.

When we arrived at our hostel in Puerto Iguazu, the town on the Argentinian side of the falls, we couldn't believe our eyes - lush greenery, a crystalline swimming pool and cute cottages all for 29 pesos a night. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a smokescreen - just enough pizazz to attract the punters, and skimping on all the details. So the staff were useless, the sheets were appalling, and the bathrooms a joke. Still, I had a good time during my one night stay, largely because of large quantities of maté consumed with Pancho over relaxing conversation and the eccentricities of one of the receptionists, Nico. This young man had seemingly fallen head over heels for Amanda, and after I borrowed his pen, he guilted me into helping him attain his goal. Unfortunately for him, over dinner I decided he was really rather strange, and told Amanda to stay firmly away. She didn't listen - it was later reported to me that she spent most of the next couple of days snuggling with him.

After a good night's sleep, Shelley and I rose early to organise the day at the Argentina falls. We had planned to then cross the border to Brazil to spend Saturday night with Fabiano, my friend from Thailand who had an apartment in Foz, the town on the Brazil side. Unfortunately, it was at this point that two things happened. Firstly, Amanda stumbled in at 6.30am from a night on the tiles with Pancho and some crazy Irish people we had met in Buenos Aires, and refused to be woken or moved from her bunk. Secondly, it emerged that Australians were not able to get their visa at the Brazil border - only from the consulate in Puerto Iguazu. Which, inconveniently for us, was closed across the weekend. So it was decided that I would see the Argentinian side alone, and then meet up with Fabiano, whilst Amanda slept off her hangover - I would meet them in a couple of days time.

I caught the bus to the National Park, and spent the day exploring the Argentinian side of the falls. This side is known to be the "in detail" part of the experience, with Brazil providing more of an overall vista. Well, I had a great time. It was a glorious day of blue skies and shining sun, and I couldn't have been more content walking along paths filled with fluttering butterflies. 'The Devil's Throat' is the most famous area of the falls - a semicircle of roaring waterfalls crashing down into the river below. After a brief trail through the rainforest, I caught the train to the start of the walkways, and made my way to the edge. It was pretty spectacular - a deafening roar, spray rising up, and a great view besides. I also really enjoyed the zig-zagging pathway that crossed the Rio Iguazu to get there - also very beautiful.

After some lunch, I then decided to try the 'superior circuit' walk, so named because it is the higher of two trails exploring the lesser-known falls. This was great - I actually preferred this, largely because it afforded great views of the Devil's Throat from a different perspective. Soaring rainbows, tens of waterfalls and lush rainforest made it a great walk. If only my photos could do the setting justice.

I had intended to take a boat out to the Devil's Throat, but I was conscious of what time I had to cross the border to meet Fabiano, so I decided to leave that until the Brazil side. After collecting my backpack from the hostel, I caught the bus to Brazil, and met 2 really sweet Israeli girls with the hugest packs I have ever seen - honestly, they were the size of their owners! No idea how they managed to carry them. We left Argentina with no problem, but after crossing No Man's Land, the bus driver helpfully dumped us 3 at the Brazilian immigration, and told us to catch the next bus in an hour's time. This was really annoying, because we had only one form each to fill out, and were in and out within 3 minutes. More frustratingly, when we were eventually picked up by the next bus, this nice driver waited for its passengers to complete the paperwork before we continued on to Foz. So I arrived at the bus station over an hour late, and there was no sign of Fabiano.

It was at this point that I realised I had been hoodwinked by those who told me Portuguese and Spanish were virtually the same. I couldn't understand a word they were saying - but fortunately, they did seem to understand my pidgin Spanish. I managed to buy a phone card, and after the help of 3 passers-by, I finally got through to Fabiano's mother, where the conversation on my side went something like this : "Hola. Soy Liza, un amiga de Fabiano. Donde es Fabiano?" Then came a long stream of Portuguese, which I took to mean that he wasn't within the reach of the phone cord, and so just said "Estazione de omnibus" repeatedly, which seemed to be understood. I hung up and crossed my fingers, and sure enough, 10 minutes later Fabiano arrived. It was so good to see him, and we had a big hug by the gates before he drove me to his mother's apartment. For the next couple of days, we were both flooded with memories of Thailand, which was great.

After meeting his lovely mum and his grumpy, teenaged younger brother (I liked him immediately) I took a much appreciated shower and sat down to a lovely soup, which struck me as a mix between borscht and pasta e fagioli, two of my favourites. We caught up, and then went out to a birthday party. My expectations were not high when I walked into a party of 15 year olds, but I ended up having an amazing time. Fabiano's friend Madson had a younger brother who was turning 16, and this was his party. I spent the first part of the evening chatting to Fabiano and Madson, who spoke good English, partaking of their Brazilian barbecue (they were trying their best to persuade me that a Brazilian parilla is better than an Argentinian one...I'm not convinced!) and being taught some basic Portuguese, most of which I forgot immediately. Then the evening really kicked off, when Madson, horrified that I was unfamiliar to samba, rallied the troops and brought out the tambourines and drums. The men provided the music, and the girls taught me some samba moves - it was great. Unfortunately, I was rubbish! By 2am I was falling asleep in my chair, so Fabiano and I said our goodbyes and headed for home.

The next day Fabiano introduced me to the Brazilian side of the falls, and tried his best to convince me that they were far and away superior to that of Argentina. This time, he succeeded - as difficult as it was for me to believe, the Argentinian side was totally blown out of the water by what I experienced in Brazil. At first, I was sceptical - I was far away from the falls, and everything seemed a lot more removed. However, as the trail continued you got closer and closer, culminating in a boardwalk literally right over the falls - I was completely and utterly drenched by all of the spray. It was gorgeously exhilirating. I also bumped into the 2 Israeli girls I had met the night before on the bus, which was nice. After lunch, we had a pretty dull 'safari' through the rainforest, and a much more exciting boat ride to the falls. My clothes, now dried from the morning, got comprehensively soaked again as the inflatable was manouvered as close to the foot of various falls as the driver dared.

That evening, after a warm shower and a change of clothes, Fabiano dropped me off at the 5 star Bourbon hotel. My dad had very generously agreed before I'd left home to pay for one night in a great hotel as a little bit of a luxury. I had been unsure as to when I'd be able to take advantage of it, but with Shell and Amanda still in Argentina and Fabiano having to return to his home city of Curitiba that evening, it seemed the perfect opportunity to have some time for myself. I was absolutely bricking it - part of me was certain that the staff would take one look at grubby little me and tell me to hit the road. Fortunately, they were lovely (if slightly fastidious at checking that my credit card was ok) and checked me into a 'standard' room for one night - which cost roughly the same as my entire stay in Cambodia.

Once I'd dumped my pack, I decided to have a brief nap before dinner. At 8 o' clock the next morning, I woke up and realised that I should probably have set my alarm. Nevermind - I felt great, which only improved after my luxuriously warm shower, fluffy towels and virtuous breakfast of fresh fruit and granola. I persuaded the clerk to let me stay as late as possible, and left in the early afternoon to sort out buses to Rio de Janeiro, where I was due to meet Shelley and Amanda. It was a slightly colourful trip, because I managed to get on a bus heading the wrong way which took 2 hours to finally arrive at the rodoviária but I eventually got there. After hanging around and eating some exceptionally bad empanadas (a spanish interpretation of the Cornish pastie) I finally got on the bus for the 24 hour journey to the cultural capital of Brazil, Rio.

---

Videos from "Drenched in Nostalgia":

---

Part of trip: The RTW Gap Year Extravaganza

---