Protests, Powerful Falls and Pedicures in Puerto Iguazu

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Little did we know the trek that awaited us when we got off the plane at Puerto Iguazu. Out we trotted and headed towards the nearest taxi, but when I gave the driver the address of our hostel he said something about the road being closed, and that he could only bring us so far and we would then have to walk "50 metres". Hmmmmmm, a tad ominous, but we didn't really have much choice, so we hopped in and about ten minutes later he dumped us at the side of the road and basically just told us to keep going straight. There was obviously some sort of protest going on, as the road was lined with a seemingly endless trail of trucks and tour buses. SO many tour buses, and all of them going nowhere. In the blistering heat we chucked out rucksacks on our backs and started off down the road. We walked and walked and walked, with no sign of our hostel, and no clue of how much further we had to go. We probably hadn´t gone that far (although the heat and our 20 kilo rucksacks certainly made it feel otherwise) when we decided to take a break at the side of the road. At this point it was clear that our git of a taximan could have driven us quite a bit further up the road as several taxis had passed us along the way. As we were catching our breath (and Claud contemplated suicide) a tour guide from one of the buses explained to us that locals were blocking the road in protest over the lack of government spending on education in the area. The good news was hostel wasn't much further up the road. The bad news? The hostel was just beyond the road block, and at this stage they weren´t letting anyone past, not even hungry Irish backpackers. I should add that myself and Claud had stayed a little longer than planned in our hostel bar the night before, so we realllllly didn't need these kind of complications in our life.
We trudged on to the road block itself, and sprawled out on the side of the road, where crowds of other backpackers were sweating under the sun. One guy beside us actually seemed to be quick sick, and his girlfriend, after giving out and cursing loudly in Spanish for a few minutes, seemed to just give up and started sobbing quietly on his chest. There were a few policemen, doing nothing, and a group of protestors, who were a little lacklustre, except for a few cheers every now and again. They are lovely people, the South Americans, but good lord they do love their protests. Just last week roads were blocked in many parts of Argentina due to a farmers strike. I sympathise, I really do, but please just let me get in to my hostel and out of this sun.
Beside us on our patch of grass there was a ridiculously excitable English family, who seemed to view the whole ordeal as a thoroughly exhilirating challenge. The father was bouncing around in his hiking boots and beige shorts, building a wall out of their bags for the two kids to shelter behind. (I should add that we saw the same father bouncing around the pool in a budgie smuggler the following day - yuk!)The children were delighted by the bit of drama, and the mother was off talking to one of the local policemen trying to understand the situation. As you can imagine we weren't bouyed by their high spirits. The only group more ridiculous than the family, were the few scraggly, be-dreadlocked backpackers up near the road block, who quite simply looked like they travelled the world LOOKING for protests. Oooooh, give me strength.
After just about 40 minutes (during which time Claud had convinced herself that we were going to be there until nightfall) there seemed to be a bit of movement, and then all of a sudden people started rushing - they were letting people through on foot! There was a bit of a scrummage, but we threw on our bags and rode with the crowd. A few minutes later Sib shouted "I see the sing for the hostel!" and all was good in the world again.
Ooooh, and our hostel is laaaaaaaaarvly; there's a huge proper swimming pool out the front (not like the mangy sinks that you come to expect when a "pool" is mentioned online), a really big communal area with lots o comfy couches and a great restaurant, where we all got very tasty chicken sambos after our run in with local politics. That night there was a huge buffet (only four euro each) and on the Saturday night there was a BBQ (sooooooo much food on offer) followed by a type of sambo show where two women (I actually think they may have been mother and daughter) danced around in itsy bitsy sequined outfits and shook their bits in the boys faces.
The reason of course we were there at all was to see the famous Iguazu Falls, but it was actually Monday before we got round to it (I'd love to say we were sunning ourselves at the pool, but we had no sun cream and it actually rained a lot from Saturday onwards). We did venture into town, only really to get money out of the bank (which is proving to be quite an ordeal in this continent, as the ATM machines seem to pick and choose when they want to accept Visas and Mastercards), but it was a horrible little place with nothing to see. OH GOD, I nearly forgot! The reason we didn't go to the Falls on Saturday was beacuse we decided to be absolute divils and hop over to the spa in the hotel across the road for some pedicures and massages. Surely we've earned them?? It was absolute bliss, not as good as a Laos massage, but bloody good all the same, and my feet are now looking more respectable than they have in months.
Anyhoo.....The Falls are found in the Iguazu national park, which was only about a ten minute drive from the hostel. It's rare that something totally surpasses all of your expectations, but Iguazu has managed to do so tenfold. I didn't expect the falls to be so overwhelming, and so extensive. It comprises of a series of huge waterfalls (I think there are almost 300 in all), spread throughout the national park. We headed for the biggest one first - the Devil's Throat. As you are approaching you can hear the water, but nothing could prepare you for the thundering falls that await at the end of the walkway. It was the force, moreso than the actual size that was most overwhelming; you can't even see the water below because there is so much spray. We were all totally dumbstruck - a first surely! There is a huge amount of vantage points to see all of the different falls - upper and lower walking routes traverse the park, allowing you to see the waterfalls from above (you can actually see the water gushing over the edge) as well as from lower angles. There's also a little island in the middle of the park, which provides yet more viewing spots. We spent several hours strolling around, trying to take it all in. The only disappointment of the day was the jeep-boat trip we booked. We were first driven through the jungle in a huge 4x4 (if it sounds exciting, it wasn´t) and our guide was using such a muffled speaker system that it was impossible to distinguish whether she was speaking Spanish or English. Then we boarded a boat, which was supposed to bring us through rapids (we bounced over a few rocks, that was it) and then down under one of the falls. We had geared ourselves up to get absolutely soaked (we even bought ridiculous plastic ponchos in the gift shop) so we were thoroughly disgusted when we barely got a shower! But aside from that it was an absolutely fantastic day, and I think I can definitely say that Iguazu Falls is the most impressive natural wonder I have ever seen.
From Iguazu we moved on to our last destination in Argentina; the town of Salta in the north of the country. It took us 28 hours on a bus, that´s TWENTY EIGHT HOURS PEOPLE, to get this far. Surprisingly, it wasn´t as horrific as it sounds (even though they showed Phat Girls, The Hot Chick, and Norbert on the bus TV. Seriously, I am not making this up. Who could have possible CHOSEN those films???), or at least the first 21 or so hours weren't (thanks in part to the return of the leather lazyboys), until we had to change buses at Tucamon, and the last leg felt like we did the first 21 hours all over again. When we arrived in Salta it was FREEEEEEEEEEZING, and we didn't get much comfort at our hostel, which is a bit of a rancid hole, with no heating. As a result Sib went to bed in leggings, a t-shirt, a cardigan, a scarf and two pairs of socks. And even with two blankets on top she said she was still cold!
Salta, as it happens, is a lovely little town. It all feels very South American - little cobbled streets, a lovely central square, and a couple of gorgeous churches. There are plenty of nice restaurants and coffee shops, the people are extremely friendly, and whatever direction you look you are greeted by the view of the surrounding moutains. There's not much to do, but we've spent two nights, and now it's time to say Bye Bye Argentina, and Bring on Bolivia Baby!!!

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