Anyway, I set my alarm and woke Joanne up, both of us totally unready for the day ahead, me especially. We made it to the bus station on time, then, when buying our tickets in Spanish I used up so much of what little concentration I had, that I lost my phone. I looked up the necessary words then asked at the desk if they had found the phone I had just lost. No, of course they hadn't, someone had clearly picked it up the moment I stupidly and sleepily left it lying on the counter. Then I found it in my bag; it was going to be a day like that.

Amusing sign on the bus. They are addicts.

The bus to Salto was even more luxurious than the others we had taken in South America: this one was like an aeroplane business class, with only three seats per row. We arrived at the hostel in Salto after walking miles with our bags, first because we missed our stop, and then further because the directions to the hostel were so awful. The receptionist didn't know any English, so we had to rely on my poor Spanish, but on top of that she was new, apparently, so when we were chased out of the 6-bed dorm she first took us to, by an old lady who was in bed, she didn't know what to do. She fell back on a phone call to the manager and instead took us to an 8-bed dorm. We had booked a 6-bed dorm and certainly would have complained if the dorm filled up, leaving the psycho old lady a dorm to herself, but the whole hostel was really empty, and there was so far nobody else in our room, and since it was quite late, we reckoned we had the dorm to ourselves.

Sunset over Salto

We had been hoping to get to the hot springs, but they are further out from town than I realised and we arrived a bit late. The only other tourist attraction near Salto is the waterfall, after which the town is named, but why would we bother going to see some puny waterfall when we were going to Iguazu Falls the next day? Salto seemed quite when we went out in search of food, particularly because it's not really on the gringo trail, so it wasn't very touristy, just very laid back. We found a restaurant someone online had claimed served the best steaks in South America; quite a bold claim, and totally untrue it turned out: my steak was quite good, but the best in South America? Come on!

Best steak in South America?

"Salmon in pepper sauce"

In a couple of places around Salto, we saw railway lines that weren't overgrown, so it seems in Uruguay, in contrast to Chile and Argentina, they do actually still use the railways that they poured money into in the past. Mind you, we never actually saw a train.

written by  The Happy Couple on October 4, 2009 from Salto, Uruguay
from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon
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Panchos

Leaving Argentina, the bus stopped and we all had to get out of the bus to get our passports stamped: at one desk we were stamped out of Uruguay, then our passports were handed along one desk where we were stamped back into Argentina. As soon as we were back in Argentina, people were asking for tips again: the guy unloading our bags from the bus, then the creepy people than hang around in the toilets handing out sheets of toilet paper. The tipping culture isn't very nice in Argentina: it just isn't like that in Uruguay or even in Chile.

We spent hours hanging around the bus station in Concordia waiting for our overnight bus. There was nothing to do but eat more typical South American dishes, so I had a sandwich de Milanesa, which is just breaded meat in a sandwich. Not very healthy, I imagine, and I've started to suspect that it's veal, which I'm not that pleased about eating, but, if it is, it's not particularly young veal because it tastes very like beef. Finally our bus arrived over an hour late and, unfortunately, it wasn't the same business class quality bus we had to Salto, but it was comfortable enough.

Sandwich de Milanesa

Quilmes bock

written by  The Happy Couple on October 5, 2009 from Concordia, Argentina
from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon
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We barely slept at all on the bus, despite it being comfortable, because two rows forward an old man kept coughing all night. He must have been seriously ill, because he coughed every ten seconds or so for nearly the whole night. Surely people that ill shouldn't be travelling? On top of that we didn't get the breakfast we had been promised when buying the tickets, the bus arrived three hours late, and it was pouring with rain. Looks like I chose the wrong week to give up drinking (which we had been planning to do for a month after we left Uruguay and Andre). There was nothing for us to do but go out for a drink.

Our hostel was recommended online for being quiet, having lovely hammocks to relax in (which it didn't look like we'd be using), and for having humming birds around their lovely garden (of which there was no sign). It was a little out of town, but we located a venue which our guide recommended for its strong caipirinhas and felt obliged to order one each. We were just looking at the menu and thinking about eating there, when the waitress chastised the couple next to us for drinking from a small bottle of water they had brought with them, rather than buying it there. It wasn't as if it was alcohol or something, just water, so, disgusted by their attitude, we decided not to eat there and instead followed the advice of a couple at our hostel, who were just at the start of a round-the-world trip, and went to a nearby Italian restaurant. The couple had been at the hostel for over two weeks, due to the girl getting a “stomach flu” on their first day, so we reckoned the guy must really know the town inside out. Unlucky start for them, though. We double-checked that they hadn't gone to the restaurant before she got ill. Mine was OK, but Joanne was very disappointed with her risotto. I don't know why she ever orders it, because it never lives up to homemade.

My carpaccio starter

Joanne's bruschetta starter

My spinach gnochi putanesca

Joanne's bad salty risotto

We had only been planning to stay two days in Puerto Iguazu, but our first day had already been written off by the weather. I bought a plastic waterproof coat incase the weather continued, because we couldn't just cower indoors from a wee bit of rain. The next morning, my second purchase of a crappy waterproof coat proved just as effective a talisman against the rain as the first one I bought in Nepal had been: it had cleared up quite a lot and it was even a bit sunny.

So we went to the falls. I don't have the words to describe them... so I'll just post lots of photos. They are awesome, incredible, overwhelming, stupendously powerful, breath-taking, and quite beautiful, thundering in the surrounding lush green forest. The park is inhabited by cheeky little creatures called coaties, which I later saw referred to as “... or racoons”. I've never seen a racoon before, so I don't know if that's right, but they are persistent in their attempts to steal food from customers at the cafes in the park. There are signs up warning that you shouldn't feed them or touch them, but we saw plenty of people ignoring the second warning. They are quite cute, but I wouldn't want to touch one, especially when it might mean a rabid bite in return. Or worse, it could steal my lunch.

People hassling the coaties

Coati

You can get really close

We first walked around the upper trail, which follows over the top of the falls along the horseshoe-shaped cliff they drop over. At points, the path is only inches from the flow as it plunges below, and there are places where you can reach out and put your fingers in the gushing water. It impressive to be that close up. The falls are absolutely huge, and go on for miles. Literally. OK, it is more than one mile, anyway. I don't know whether we were there during a period of heavy flow, but the whole area was full of water vapour, splashed up for the churning foam beneath. At one point, there was a view of people below, presumably on the lower trail, being absolutely soaked by this vapour on a pathway constructed just in front of one waterfall.

Jesus, I presume

Lots of people getting soaked

Quite busy

Next it was the lower trail for us. We had prepared for the soaking by putting everything into a dry-bag. You get some nice broader face-on views of a series of falls from the lower trail, but the main point seems to be the pathway that brings you right up to the massive, crashing, thundering, foaming white wall of water, with the boiling cauldron beneath. It's the crowning moment to stand there right in front of it, really driving home the enormity of the place, and it's just wow. Some people we protecting themselves with plastic macs and things, but I'd forgotten my newly purchased one, which I had only really intended for the rain anyway; and since it was sunny I was happy just to dry off after getting soaked.

The first bit you get wet

It's crashing down

Me in the middle of it

Me, wet, on my way back to dry land

Wooo!

Joanne in the middle of it

Coatis and Beer

Los Dos Hermanos

The final section of the park is a short train ride away at what is meant to be the most impressive bit of the falls: la Garagana del Diablo, the Devil's Throat. On the walkway after the train we met two American guys from the hostel in Buenos Aires, who had thought we might see in Colonia, since they were going there the same day as us, but in yet another travelling coincidence, here they were instead. The falls here are certainly incredible, and the quantity of water flowing into the hole in astonishing, but there isn't really so much to see, maybe because the flow of water was too strong, but the vapour obscured everything after the first few metres of the drop. Even from quite a distance you can see the cloud rising up from it.

The American guys from Bs As

La Garganta del Diablo

Foam

Us at La Garganta del Diablo

Joanne at La Garganta del Diablo

La Garganta del Diablo

La Garganta del Diablo

The really ugly Sharaton overlooking the falls

The last thing we had wanted to do that day was take a boat trip, which we had heard was great fun, but all of the cheaper options down at the water were cancelled because the water level was too high; even the boat trip to the island in the middle of the falls was cancelled that day; the only trip available was the full package, including a Jeep ride through the jungle. It cost too much, so we decided to leave it. Using our tickets as vouchers, we would be able to get 50% off the park fees the next day, so we decided just to try again then. This meant we would have to stay a day longer, since we had missed the first half-day due to rain and we were going to miss another half-day by returning to the Argentine side of the falls, so we asked at the hostel if we could stay an extra night: sure, no problem the guy on duty said.

That night we celebrated our lovely day by going out to another Italian restaurant. We were called in off the street by the owner and the prices were very reasonable for Puerto Iguazu which, as you can imagine, is a bit dearer than your average Argentinian town. The food was excellent, although my steak consumption has really got out of hand; still it was a cut I hadn't tried: bife de lomo, which I think it a fillet steak, though some menus translate it as other cuts; they have as little clue about European cuts as we do about theirs. For pudding I had something like zabaglione. A bit too rich after a big steak, but they didn't have the grappa I wanted to settle my meal, so I asked for a mate instead. They seemed very surprised and, although we had been in South America for over a month, we had only each had one sip of someone's mate; it isn't ever on menus in restaurants or cafes. I suppose they reckon there is no market because everyone always carries their mate and flask with them, but surely other tourists would buy it?

Bife de lomo

Pudding

written by  The Happy Couple on October 7, 2009 from Puerto Iguazu, Argentina
from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon
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In the morning, I went to the desk to “reconfirm” our booking and the guy on duty said sorry we're full. The one we had asked the day before was not on duty, but he had been standing at the desk until I appeared, at which point he immediately disappeared. Great. If we had known the night before we could have made arrangements and been ready to move, instead, we had to scrabble about online trying to find another hostel with available space. Marco Polo Hostel, just across from the bus station, where we had originally planned to stay until I read how lovely the other one was, had space in the dorms, so we booked it.

I had no money to pay the hostel we were leaving because I hadn't thought I was going to need to draw it yet. This situation was quite tricky because nobody in that hostel spoke any English and I didn't have the Spanish to get across what I wanted to say: we are furious, your colleague told us there was no problem, this is totally unacceptable, you'll just have to tell the people moving into our room that you made a mistake, and so on, were all a bit beyond my limited grasp of the language. I managed we are very angry but it fell apart a bit when he asked me why and I tried to explain. I really need to look up the perfect past in Spanish, or whatever they call it. To add insult to injury, he insisted we leave one of our bags behind until we could return to pay the bill. That would mean an extra journey and wasting more of the day. I should just have sworn at him in English really, I'm sure he would have understood, although it was really his colleague I should have been shouting at.

Spinach canelone garnished with (meat) estofado

So we went up and dropped one bag, checked in, drew money, went back down to the first hostel, paid, took the other bag to the new hostel and dropped that off. So much of the day was gone by that time, we realised we would have to extend our stay in the area by another day to do everything we wanted to. And we're on such a tight schedule in South America! So we checked in for the two days and our two days at the falls had grown to four and it was already lunch time. Following the well-known maxim that there's no vegetarian meal which cannot be improved by the addition of some meat, the delicious spinach cannelloni I had for lunch came topped with delicious meat stew.

Then we rushed back to the falls to find out if the water level had fallen enough overnight, with no rain, for the boat trips to be running again. We were in luck and bought our tickets just inside, in case they changed their minds by the time we got to the landing platform. The bottom path which takes you right down to the waterside treated us to another perspective on the falls. The flow may have been a bit less, but it was no less impressive. We got on the boat and the driver zoomed backwards and forwards around the island, getting nearer and nearer to the spray each time. Eventually we were getting soaked, but I couldn't see anything at all because the water shoots away from the impact with such force that it hurts too much to keep your eyes open. I wish I'd had some goggles with me! Or even if I had been prepared enough to put my sunglasses on they may have offered enough protection to see something. The whole thing only lasted about twenty minutes and I didn't really think it was worth it. Joanne really enjoyed it, though, and so had everyone else we knew who had done it. I just thought it was OK; maybe if I had been driving the boat it I would have enjoyed it more. After the boat we had been planning to take another short hike to another part of the falls not on the main trails, but it started to rain and we decided against it. Just as well because, when we got on the bus, it really started to rain again. Perfect timing!

Where the boat goes to and fro

Boat in the spray

Joanne wet

At the bus station there was already a bus waiting which said “international service” on it, and when I asked if they went to Ciudad del Este, the driver said yes, then something about frontera. We paid and got on the bus and then the penny dropped that he had probably been saying that we would be dropped at the border where it would only take five minutes to walk across the bridge. I wasn't totally sure, though. We really should have waited for the bus which actually said “Ciudad del Este” on the front, because that one goes direct and just transits through Brazil so you don't need to go through their passport control. At the Argentina-Brazil border, the bus just went straight through and I began to believe I had misunderstood, but when we got to Foz do Iguaçu in Brazil, the bus just pulled up to the bridge to Paraguay without going through any borders. This was a bit of a problem because we hadn't been stamped into Brazil and now we were about to try and leave it. We just had to brazen it out: en transito, I announced confidently to the border policeman as I handed over my passport, but it didn't work. They were quite nice and only lightly scolded us, reminding us that we had to get stamped on our way back. “Bus the bus didn't stop” we said, but he just said that we have to ask the bus to stop.

The other slight problem with the bus we had taken was that someone at breakfast had told us that their guide book (Lonely Planet) warns that the bridge is too dangerous to walk over, so you should not do it. It seemed OK, so we just walked and, although there were definitely a few unsavoury characters hanging around in no mans land, they didn't seem any more dangerous than you might encounter on a walk into Glasgow city centre. Certainly during the day with so many people around it didn't seem at all dangerous; maybe at night I would have second thoughts. At the other side we found passport control and asked them to stamp our documents.

Ciudad del Este, at least at the border, is quite a crazy place; we hadn't seen anything like that level of activity since Asia: there are loads of stalls lining the streets, touts who offer you cards then try to drag you into their preferred photographic or computer shop. It does seem a bit dodgy, but I certainly wouldn't have put it down to “the Arabs” our Israeli room mate had warned us about; in fact I didn't see anyone I would have recognised as an Arab. The city is apparently known as the supermarket of South America because of all the contraband goods smuggled in from Brazil, but even the legal goods are probably cheaper than Brazil because of taxation and the relative value of the currencies, cost of labour, and so on. At first it was a bit over-whelming, but then I decided to follow a tout or two, just to find out where the computer shops were and try to get some kind of feel for the prices. The prices were much higher than I expected and nobody seemed keen to haggle much, probably because of the tout's cut, I thought. I had checked the prices on Google UK the night before and it was definitely not looking like a good deal here. It was very confusing because electronics are supposed to be cheap in Ciudad del Este. Is Britain just really cheap for electronics now?

We decided we had to try it without the touts, but it proved quite difficult because I didn't know Spanish for hard-drive (disco duro it turns out – doh!). I had picked up a word from the box of one of the hard-drives offered to me by a tout, but I think that just means “storage” or something and I kept getting confused responses and it all just seemed to be whole laptops and mobile phones everyone was selling. Finally someone pointed us to a particular building, which was very different from the shiny, flashy shops, with lots of products in the windows, we had been taken to before: it seemed very sedate in comparison to the rest of the town, with people just sitting behind desks. After a couple of tries we found a computer place (with no products on display) and, when I asked, the woman brought up a catalogue on her computer and was able to show me the price on the screen, rather than plucking one out of the air. The price was much lower than any we'd had before, but their smallest had more capacity than I needed. A nearby shop with the same setup had a smaller drive at an even lower price. Cheaper and much more respectable than all the showrooms. Unfortunately we had been misinformed by people who had told us you could use Argentine Pesos for everything: it seemed to be the only currency they wouldn't take there; US Dollars, Brazilian Real, and of course Paraguayan Guaranies were all OK, but I hadn't drawn any yet, but we didn't have to worry because there was an exchange downstairs. US Dollars, in which all the prices were set, was their preferred currency.

Job done! Now all we had to do in Paraguay that day was get a bus to the Hydroelectric project which was the world's largest until the recently built Chinese dam. I'm not much of an engineering geek, but who wouldn't find the idea of a mile-long machine room exciting? Unfortunately our hangovers had dented our organisational abilities and we hadn't registered that the guide book had no map of the city. It had an address for tourist information, but without a map what use is that. They really should have a tourist information at the border crossing. I tried asking people for directions to the bus station, which the tourist information is supposed to be close to, but it wasn't the right bus station and we were getting hungry, hot, thirsty, and tired. So we had to give up and find food instead. We had been told that you can get Asian-influenced food, very different from most South American fare, but we couldn't find anywhere selling food at all, save for a couple of empanada stalls. We were making our way back to the border, increasingly defeated, then just at the border we spotted a food hall. It was disappointing and not Asian, but we just wanted to eat.

We stamped out of Paraguay, crossed the bridge, and stamped into Brazil, mission only partially successful, but the hard-drive was the main thing. Now we wouldn't have to delete non-backed-up photos.

written by  The Happy Couple on October 9, 2009 from Ciudad del Este, Paraguay
from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon
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