The Rum Diary

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The last week has been our most hectic by far and it seems futile to try and remember every detail after the copious amount of rum consumed. So the following passage may not be entirely accurate or informative; merely what we can remember.

Following two days of travel, staggered by nine hours in Sao Paulo bus station, we arrived at Foz with the intention of viewing the waterfalls that, seemingly, everyone that we met thus far had waxed lyrical about. Dumping our bags at the hostel, we ventured off under the morning sun in search of provisions. After an executive decision in the local supermarket (strongly influenced by two days of sleep deprivation), we returned with two litres of rum and a bag of ice.

The morning flew by and, feeling invigorated from the premature drinking session, we headed to the Brazilian side of the Cataratas. The panoramic views were a just reward for the minimal entrance fee and 13km bus journey. From the wooded footpath of the Brazilian park, water can be seen cascading through narrow chutes etched into the cliff's edge. From here white mist ascends into a thick, clammy haze. As the footpath continues upstream the views improve as the falls become greater in volume and velocity. Eventually we emerged from the forest trail onto a viewing platform which sprawls out across the river providing a perfect three hundred and sixty degree view of the falls from a central stance. It truly is a privilege to behold.

Prior to our visit, we had been informed by various sources that the Argentinian side leant itself better to views of Iguazu than the Brazilian side so it seemed a no-brainer to visit the falls again from a different perspective the following day.

However, that night involved much, much more rum and the early 8am alarm was met with mass hostility (it took a flip-flop to the face to lure Ben out of his bunk). From the Argentinian park entrance we caught a small locomotive downhill through forest and steamy rain clouds suspended low above the canopy until we arrived at the first set of trails (the train journey would be repeated twice more as we ventured further into the park and closer to the view of the 'Devil's Throat', where the largest expanse of water barrels into a white, smoky abyss). Despite being soaked through and temporarily blinded by the cocktail of sweat and suncream that burned my eyes, we were in good spirits thanks to the stunning views surrounding us and the tropical showers which, in retrospect, cleansed us of our hangovers.

Ahead of schedule (we planned to arrive in Buenos Aires a week ahead of our flight to Ushuaia) and fully inspired by the Waterfalls, we decided to move on and into Paraguay. From Foz, we travelled west across the Brazilian/Paraguayan border towards Asuncion past makeshift tents fashioned from scavenged fence panels and tarpaulins that lined the roadside; a direct contrast to our reclining arm chairs on the air-conditioned coach, which gave us a lot to contemplate during the six hour journey.

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