Thursday. Up early again to catch the 7:30 a.m. bus to Foz do Iguacu, which our Chaco busmate Sondra (a young Dutch woman on her way to three months on a Brazilian dairy farm, after an advanced degree in soils science!) had put us on to. Good thing, too, because most of the buses go to the Argentina side and we didn’t want to be bothered with that. A six-hour trip rolling through southern Paraguay, so much greener than Chaco that it’s rather beautiful despite the obvious poverty here. With shades like PEI’s: rich red earth, green hills, blue skies. Villages strung along the route, chipa stands (we bought some, but never again found any like those at the station at Encarnacion), and towns, inevitably heralded and exited via roundabouts. All the way to Ciudad del
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