Esteros de Ibera Marathon days and nights on buses brought me from Curitiba in southern Brazil to Mercedes, Corrientes, Argentina, the jumping-off point for the remote Esteros del Ibera. I'd arrived on census day, and the city was deserted--everyone was home, waiting to be counted. I met a young, Swedish chimney sweeper, who'd just gotten off the swankier "cama (bed)" bus, and together, we set out for the hostel. There, we fixed the usual hostel pasta fare with a woman who was writing a book on the life of cows around the world--so great the variety of people I meet in hostels. The next day, he and I boarded a rickety, lime-green bus held together with duct tape. For four hours we bounced the 120 kilometers over a washboard dirt road past nothing more than huge,
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