Iguazu, Iguassu, and Yguazu

While cruising me from site to site between Paraguay and Argentina, Pablo, my driver for the weekend, commented, "You don't waste a single minute of the day, do you?" Then, after considering which rock star first said it, declared, "I guess you have time to rest once you die!" At exactly the moment when the word "die!" left his lips, Pablo, while going 70 mph in his small Renault sedan, hit an unmarked speed bump. We went flying.

Besides being a brief metaphor for the unpredictable nature of my weekend in Iguazú--and my constantly tempting death--Pablo's quotation is an especially appropriate explanation for my little adventure up north. Ten minutes after my last post, I was at the entrance of a random hostal, twenty minutes later, a guy was driving me to Argentina's national park bordering the Falls. The next day I ventured into the beautiful and very hospitable Brazil. The following day I ended up in Paraguay's poor, littered Ciudad del Este, then I was back in Argentina for a lightning-visit to a secluded national park two hours away from my hostal. I was constantly moving, constantly doing something. Each of my days began with the same question, directed each time toward a different person: if this were the only time in my life that I could experience this place, and I had one day to do it, what would you tell me to do? I met lots of new people, heard amazing stories, and had some unforgettable experiences. There's definitely something to be said for traveling alone, especially to a place as unique and diverse as Iguazú.

I arrived back in Salto early this morning, bringing over 300 pictures with me. It's going to be tough for me to boil down the images and experiences for this update, but I guess I'll try to do so by taking you on a tour of each of the three countries I visited: Argentina, Brazil, and, finally, Paraguay.

But first, just so you get an idea of the layout of the falls and their surrounding environment, I'm posting a few pictures I shot during a helicopter ride I took on my second day.

Here you can get an idea of just how dense and lush the surrounding rainforest really is:



This image captures the Falls in their entirety. At the time of my visit, there were 270 falls, which is about the average number. The border between Argentina and Brazil basically runs right through the middle of the falls lengthwise, with the vast majority of them on the Argentine side. Thus the fact that Brazil offers the more panoramic views. The area furthest to the left, with the rising mist, is the most dramatic area, with the highest and most powerful falls. It is known as the Devil's Throat (La Garganta del Diablo):



Another image of a cluster of falls, all lying on the Argentine side:



So let's start with Argentina...

Argentina, like Brazil, has dedicated an enormous amount of land surrounding the Falls to preservation. This means that now (unlike the years prior to the early 20th century, when the park was founded), the trees in the park cannot be cut down, animals cannot be hunted, fishing is prohibited, and swimming is prohibited. These rules, from what I can tell, are not compromised, in either Argentina's or Brazil's parks. Both countries take enormous pride in Iguazú, and do all they can to preserve and maintain it.

Driving into the park, the scenery instantly transforms into sub-tropical rainforest. Along both sides of the road are tall trees and impenetrable vegetation. Besides this, the first thing I noticed was the enormous number of butterflies flying around, of various colors and shapes and sizes. They were everywhere, and would only increase in number as I approached the Falls.

Arriving at the park entrance, my driver dropped me off and agreed to meet me in the same spot several hours later. I immediately bought an all-inclusive ticket, and boarded a large, open-air Mercedes truck, which romped through the rainforest, finally arriving at a small boat dock on the shore of the Iguazú River. Just as I was boarding the boat--a 30-foot long motorboat with several other passengers--and at the height of my anticipation, some sort of tropical mutant horsefly stung me on my right calf. Welcome to the jungle!!

Our motorboat did a surprisingly good job of maneuvering through the rapids as we cruised upstream, toward the Falls. At this point, I had still not seen the Falls, so it was with great excitement that I took the following photo, which captures my first view of them:



In the boat, we were only able to go a limited way up the river, and not even close to La Garganta del Diablo. Nonetheless, we got very close to some of the "smaller" falls (still huge), and so I exited the boat completely soaked with water and anticipation.

The trails surrounding the Falls on the Argentine side offer some amazing, close up views. My primary concern was taking it all in, and not wanting to forget a single moment. The Falls at Iguazú are especially known for the large amount of mist they generate. As a result, almost every view of the Falls is accompanied by a vivid rainbow. As I wandered along the trails, I was gradually befriended by more and more butterflies, which rested on my arms, my shoulders, and even my head. Everyone I saw was also accompanied by numerous butterflies, and I think we were all equally surprised by the number of them and their willingness to come so close to us.




Eventually, I made my way to La Garganta del Diablo, which lies at the end of a 2km catwalk that wanders over the upper waters of the Iguazú. On the Argentine side, La Garganta is viewed from the top of the Falls, which offers a stunning view, and a deafening roar, as the water falls about 300 feet:



On my way back to the hostel, after finding my driver at the entrance of the park, I began asking him about whether Iguazú was currently in a dry or wet season. His response took me by surprise as he told me that although the Falls used to experience dry and wet seasons in the past, global warming has completely thrown them off. Thus, although April is usually relatively dry, the Falls are actually experiencing a high flow of water right now. One of the effects of this abnormal climatic situation is the high number of butterflies. I was told by a park official that the people working there couldn't remember the last time so many butterflies had been present. I found it alarming to see such an obvious example of the effects of global warming, especially since, just the day before, I had had a conversation with a student at the university where I teach about how global warming is deteriorating Argentina's Perito Moreno glacier in Patagonia. I oftentimes find myself at a loss for words when people here ask me what the United States is doing to alleviate global warming.

A short drive later, I found myself back at my hostel, my shirt, pants, and shoes soaked. In my excitement and eagerness to not waste a second, I hadn't eaten all day. So the first thing I asked about was the restaurant with the best steaks. Everyone pointed me in the same direction: Tio Querido's.

I've had good food in South America, but my dinner at Tio Querido's stands out as a highlight. I have to admit that I made a very big mistake before leaving for Uruguay--I asked my dad for a farewell dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. Ever since that night, I've been plagued by the desire for a steak as good as the one I had there. And I've had absolutely no success...until I walked into Tio Querido's. I asked for the most tender steak in the place. And boy did I get it...enough of it to feed three people. I had no idea until the huge, sizzling plate was laid before my eyes, but the steak I ordered was 25 ounces of rare "baby beef." To say the side of potatoes I ordered with it was superfluous is an understatement.

Ladies and gentlemen, at first bite I realized I had finally found the steak I had been searching for all these weeks. It was spectacular. It had to have been spectacular (and huge) to justify the $35 pricetag on it. And to justify a description almost as long as the one I dedicated to the Falls. But I digress.

Let's go to Brazil.

Let me start off by saying two things: first, yes, Brazil is absolutely all I thought it would be, and more. I have fallen in love with yet another country. Which indirectly leads me to my second observation: I think Brazil is one of the few countries on the planet where the women could distract someone from something as unbelievable as the Iguazú Falls.

Struggling to keep my attention focused, the panoramic views offered by Brazil's Iguassu (different spelling) National Park were amazing. Since the Falls are primarily on the other side of the river, the Argentine side, it's easier to photographically "take it all in" (although it's still hard to do so mentally):





Perhaps it was just me, but I felt that the ambiance of the Brazilian side of the Falls was different from that of the Argentine side. It seemed to be wilder, with more animals such as this one just strolling around:



Additionally, I felt that the people's attitudes were, as a whole, different. Everyone was smiling or laughing. Kids were yelling at each other to see this or that spectacular view. One shirtless man stretched out his arms, lifted his face, and stood in the mist of one of the waterfalls.

The climax of my experience at the Falls was seeing La Garganta del Diablo from the Brazilian side, which, unlike the Argentine side, is actually from within the Falls, not above them. A walkway extends out and over the Falls, and walking out on it gave me the feeling of being right in the middle of it all--water was falling in front of me, behind me, to my left, to my right, and even right under my feet.





Upon [reluctantly] leaving the park, Pablo took me to have some wonderful Brazilian food, including fish, various meats, and even shawarma. We wandered a bit through Foz do Iguassu, Brazil's nearest city to the Falls. The residents of the city come from all over the world, as is apparent in the high number of Chinese and Middle Eastern restaurants I saw.

I also took a brief excursion up to the Itaipu Dam, a binational project between Paraguay and Brazil that is better known as the largest hydroelectric plant in operation in the world (soon to be surpassed by the Three Gorges Dam in China). "Popular Mechanics" listed the Dam as one of the "Seven Wonders of the Modern World." It produces about 20% of Brazil's power, and 90% of Paraguay's. Although I only briefly visited, the structure was beyond impressive. I gathered some interesting facts during my visit: the dam stretches almost 8 km in length, and is 196 meters tall. The maximum discharge of the spillway is 40 times greater than the average flow of the Iguazú Falls. To give you an idea of the vast amount of power it produces, Brazil would have to burn 434,000 barrels of oil per day using thermoelectric plants to get the same amount of power produced by Itaipu. Its rate of construction set world records, and was equivalent to a twenty-story building every 55 minutes.

In the early afternoon, while driving along a well-maintained road on the outskirts of Foz do Iguassu, Pablo pointed toward a large, beautiful white mansion with a Spanish tile roof. "You see that?" he asked, having just put on the left blinker. "Nice house. There's a favela about 200 meters up this road." I asked if we could drive through, so I could see it. "Are you crazy? I can guarantee you we would be robbed." He agreed, though, to give me a quick glimpse. As we passed in front of another three-story mansion, Pablo pointed across the street. There, in a tiny lot, were piled up about eight feet of garbage bags in a large heap. Just to the side of the bags I could make out a shack, made of wood and a flimsy metal roof. A little girl, her formerly pink clothes filthy, knelt outside and munched on something. "That is one of the things that, unfortunately, characterizes Brazil. You have the extremely wealthy living, side-by-side, with the extremely poor."

Paraguay.

Waking up on day three, I had absolutely no clue what I would do with my day. I was thinking about visiting the Jesuit ruins, but was also tempted to wander into Paraguay, which people had formerly discouraged me from visiting. After talking with an older man who worked at my hostel, I decided to go into Paraguay to visit a little-known waterfall called Salto Monday, and to follow that up with a visit to the city, Paraguay's Ciudad del Este.

I was unsure what to expect in Paraguay, not knowing anything about the country beforehand except for the multiple times Argentines had warned me not to go there due to the poverty and danger. Pablo and I crossed the border and entered Ciudad del Este with no problem (the Brazilian and Paraguayan borders are patrolled only occasionally, and weren't patrolled at all during my visit). Immediately the scenery changed. The bridge crossing the river that marked the border was poorly maintained, and littered with trash. The poverty was apparent--people were dressed in clothes that didn't fit them properly. I was reminded of scenes I had viewed in pictures of Bolivia, or during my visits to central Mexico.

Paraguay has attempted to take advantage of the high flow of tourists in the area by building enormous shopping centers that offer counterfeit and oftentimes stolen electronics. Ciudad del Este greets its visitors with enormous billboards advertising Pioneer, Sony, and Samsung electronics. It's like a poverty-stricken Times Square, with dusty streets. Huge signs throughout the city , and even in Brazil, read "Come buy the Mona Lisa in Paraguay!" The advertisement reveals more than it probably intends to by hinting at the fact that much of what is available at the shopping centers is ripped off and faulty. Officials in Brazil and Argentina are aware of the businesses, and frequently search cars and tour buses in their countries for such contraband. My bus back to Concordia/Salto was searched numerous times, and each time people had to produce papers for the electronics they had purchased.

Pablo had actually never been to the Salto Monday, so we had to stop for directions at least fifteen times. Being a proud Argentine (and Porteño, at that), and driving a car with Argentine plates, Pablo warned me that people will oftentimes run up to the car and grab things out of it. He completely rejected the idea of eating lunch in Ciudad del Este, claiming that the car would be robbed. Eventually, we arrived at the waterfall, which could be found after driving through several small neighborhoods. The Salto Monday waterfall was not advertised at all, and I was surprised that Paraguay hadn't attempted to lure tourists to it. Although small in comparison to Iguazú, it was still pretty. The site was relatively untouched by tourists. The park was even hesitant to accept Argentine pesos for the entrance fee.

I felt a bit uneasy in the park. Although well-maintained, I was clearly the only caucasian. Even Pablo the Argentine stood out--people asked if he was my father. On the platform overlooking the waterfall, I met four Paraguayans who put me at ease at least a little bit--they were all police officers. Normally that fact wouldn't really put me at ease. But these guys were great. They gave me some of their tereré, which is similar to the mate consumed in Argentina and Uruguay, except that it is cold. They were also very eager to learn about the United States, and even about the Falls at Iguazú, which they had never visited. I showed them the pictures on my camera, which they enjoyed. I asked them why Paraguay doesn't advertise its waterfall and take advantage of the money that could attract. They responded that Paraguayans take great pride in their country, but that they don't want thousands of tourists to swarm in. The waterfall is for the Paraguayans, and they want to keep it that way. I quickly learned that Paraguayans place great value on their culture and traditions, not only on their waterfall. The four police officers began teaching me Guaraní, Paraguay's indigenous language, and the language listed as the country's first language. They proudly told me that every Paraguayan can speak Guaraní, and that it was the language that was used to name not only Paraguay, but also Uruguay and Yguazú (Guaraní spelling). "You know," they told me, "Iguazú Falls used to be Paraguay's. We used to be a very rich country." Although their tone was somewhat sad, they said this with a smile.

I couldn't help but get a photo with the guys before leaving the park:



Now, being back in Salto, I find myself telling locals about Iguazú again and again. Many of the people here have been there, yet many have not. Many of the people I've talked with have commented that they know the Falls must be amazing, because of the smile on my face when I talk about it. Although filled with extreme emotions on both sides of the spectrum, I learned about three countries--two of which I had never previously visited--and their people. The Falls were beyond description, but equally so were the people I met and the aspect of their lives I was able to briefly witness.