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Published: April 25th 2007
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Hello friends and family, I hope this entry finds you all in good health and good spirits! Though currently in Lima, this entry recaps some time in the north of Argentina, a beautiful and friendly landscape ranging from the cow pastures and plains north of Buenos Aires to the hot and humid region around Poasadas to the very northeast corner of the country where dense subtropical vegetation bask in the heat and rain.
Corrientes was the first stop after an overnight ride from Buenos Aires that thankfully was absolutely nothing like the weaving and waving gut-churning adventure in Peru from Pisco to Arequipa. The ride was mostly flat and straight and dark so the sleeping was decently restful. But as the sun rose from its slumber and we rolled into Corrientes I wondered what the environment outside the bus would yield. When it finally became light enough to see I realized that this stop was going to be a hot one; people rode their bicycles and motorbikes in the early morning wearing nothing but shorts and tee shirts.
Sun awoken, backpack cinched and jaw set on the morning of April twentieth I began to sweat before the first
step of the three mile walk into town. After settling into the Hostel San Lorenzo and a short rest the lure of a salami, tomato and mozzarella sandwich by the the riverside was too much to resist. The walk to the grocery and riverside was dizzyingly hot and even the dense vegetation that lined the banks of the slow and subtropical dirty green waters of the Rio Parana was indecent refuge from the heat and humidity. The subsequent decision to return to cool showers and an afternoon rest was not only fantastic but really the only possible choice. The outside temperature was too hot and none of the museums, ice cream shops or stores that promised cool refuge or ice cold Coca-Cola seemed to be open...what was going on? If you have never experienced what siesta does to a town then Corrientes would be a fantastic place to observe absolutely nothing going on. From approximately one in the afternoon to four or five in the evening, depending on the business, not a person or shop is open in town. Absolutely nothing goes on. The hint was easily taken, not to mention long and refreshingly cold showers.
Later that evening
a trip to a parrilla called Punte Pexoa outside of town to listen to some live goucho-polka type music - called chamame - and some dancing was in order. Though Lonely Planet reported that Friday and Saturday nights were both options for the event, either due to the off season or change of schedule the music is only showcased on Saturday nights. Oh well, the only thing to do was eat some delicious meat and return home for more cold showers and some needed rest...amazing how the sun can take it out of you.
After another day in Corrientes including a visit to a neighboring town called Resistencia famous for public sculptures all over town followed by more siesta and cold showers, the town of Posadas and the Rio Iguazu waterfalls called from the north. The four hour bus ride was a beautiful way to view the changing scenery and land. One thing I like about Argentinian buses is that they are frequently relaxing, made more so by the liquor they offer you - first class all the way. The first time I was offered warm whiskey on the bus to Corrientes my stomach turned a bit and I
declined. But when the bus attendant offered a melon liquor that smelled distinctly like a Midori sour I happily accepted. Other than yet more bad movies constantly played at excessive volumes (some showings had included "Little Man," unrecognizable American horror flicks, John Wayne westerns dubbed in Spanish and poor war movies) the ride was easy and uneventful.
After checking into a small hostel called Residencial Misiones in the center of Posadas we walked to the riverside to catch the sunset. The scene was unforgettable. Here, on the boardwalk of Posadas, it seemed the entire town had converged for an evening of mate, stereo thumping and general good times. The "boardwalk" is a sidewalk about fifteen feet in diameter sitting atop a flood wall overlooking the river. Yet with the number of people who were there you might think you were on the boardwalk in San Diego. Everyone was here. Families sat in semicircles of beach chairs near other families they seemed to know, sipping mate, laughing and eating ice cream and snacks. Children rode their Barbie and Batman bikes up and down the strip vaguely watching where they were going but mostly concentrated on singing happily. Even the high
school students were in fine form: boys with boys and girls with girls, all leaning up against their parent´s automobiles, giggling and glancing sidelong at each other and at those with significant others expressing typically awkward amounts of PDA. It was fantastic.
Still, Posadas was just a short stop on the way to the very northeast of Argentina and the small town of Puerto Iguazu, the gateway to Iguazu National Park, and two days later on the morning of the twenty-forth of April the coffee cups steamed, bread was buttered and a day pack readied for a great adventure to the falls. The bus ride to the park was short, easy, cheap and left from the bus terminal in the middle of town. Like Machu Picchu, the last decidedly touristy area visited, there were fewer tourists early in the morning but the ones who were there were immediately shunned for a trip down the far less traveled path to a "hidden waterfall." The trail was nearly deserted the whole way.
The walk was short and beautiful. I gazed about in amazement at subtropical forests I had never before seen first hand and though the vegetation and the fauna
was completely foreign and wonderful to view, the familiarity of the forest made me happy. So many things going on: birds singing and foraging on the forest floor and in the canopy above, unseen animals scurrying about and bugs going about their tiny worlds. Some of the bugs, however, were not so tiny including black ants that were nearly an inch and a half in length and some of the spiders just overhead that had woven their silky webs between trees on either side of the path were nearly three inches long. For one who is familiar with smaller bugs of the temperate forests of the northwest, I was amazed. I caught sight of beautiful Toucans and even a monkey jumping about in the trees. Not only was the flora and fauna mesmerizing but so was the small, beautiful waterfall that tumbled peacefully into a clear pool below. The water was clean and cool as it softly pounded my back and shoulders while I stood refreshed underneath.
Another wonderful trait of the park was the thousands of beautiful butterflies that swarmed about. They seem to love the salt left from evaporated sweat that I happily had an abundance of on my hat and shirt. The delicate bugs fluttered around and all over me, hitching rides on my hat, shirt, backpack and even on my arms. They were completely unafraid of landing on hands, face and ears where their minute proboscis´s tickled while in the search for salt.
It was a short walk back to the main park facilities, tourist crowds, and a small train that propelled us all towards the park´s main attraction, a giant basalt shelf that long ago depressed resulting in a drastic change in the Rio Iguazu´s meandering path through the jungle. Because of the change the Rio Iguazu falls from the shelf´s enormous heights for nearly two linear miles (Note: there are not two continuous miles of waterfalls but rather about two linear miles over which the falls exist), crowned by the famous and terrifyingly beautiful Gargantua del Diablo, the Devils Throat. The walk out to the platform that overlooked the Gargantua del Diablo was more of a trot to outrun the other tourists on board the packed train, but it worked. For a solid ninety seconds there were a mere fifteen people on the platform. The sight was dumbfounding. The volume of water, the height from which it launched, the sheer volume of the falls and the heavy mist blown back up from the river bed nearly 300 feet below was as startling to me as it must have been to the slow, shallow Rio Iguazu that fell suddenly off the face of the earth. I was entranced, transfixed by the unbelievable beauty of the natural world that I was so lucky to be seeing first hand.
Peace and love, Simon
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