Iguazu – Day 2
Having completed the entire Circuito Inferior yesterday, I decided to cross over to the Brazilian side in order to get a different look at the park. The hostel workers warned me that getting to the Brazilian falls was more complicated and required taking 3 buses–1 from the hostel into town, another to cross the border, and the final one to get to the park. While the hostel offered a direct transfer for 30 pesos, I decided not to go that route as it would only leave me 2 hours at the park. I ended up oversleeping, so I wasn’t able to arrive earlier in the morning as I had hoped. While waiting for the second bus in Puerto Iguazu, I struck up a conversation with a blonde haired, blue eyed girl whom I assumed spoke English. While Rachel did speak the blessed language, she wasn’t comfortable with it. So I switched over to Spanish during the bus ride. This caused her to open up more and relax. We chatted for a while and I found out she had come from Switzerland to study Spanish in Buenos Aires.
At the border crossing, I was delayed for having overstayed my allotted 90 days as a tourist in Argentina. Upon realizing this, the customs agents appeared perplexed, as if this had never happened in the history of the Republic. Knowing how little they cared about this in Argentina, I was not at all worried and proceeded to resolve the matter with his boss by paying the 50 peso fine.
Apparently bus drivers in Iguazu were not trained to count heads (or care) before leaving. Due to my delay at customs, my bus was nowhere to be found when I emerged from the office. So, I ponied up another 3 pesos and hopped on another company’s bus. However, after less than a kilometer, we stopped and I noticed my Swiss companion waiting at that bus stop. So I got out, thinking she had the route figured out, only to find she was mistaken. We ended up walking a kilometer or so and waiting 20 minutes at the final bus stop.
Upon arriving at the Brazilian side, we paid the more expensive non-Brazilian, non-neighboring South American country rate of 20 reales, which included double decker bus transfer to the trail 9 km up the road. A soothing female voice, accompanied by jungle noises and music, welcomed us to the park and provided instructions in Portuguese, English, and Spanish. That afternoon was especially warm and muggy, and having not gone to the grocery store earlier, the first order of business after stepping off the bus was to buy a 1.5 liter bottle of water for 8 pesos.
Any earlier frustrations were soon forgotten after my first panoramic glimpse of Iguazu Falls from the Brazilian shore. Some had told me they didn’t like the Brazilian view and that it was too far away. I disagreed and found the wide vista intoxicating. The Falls seemed magical and I felt as if I were in a movie. Being able to glimpse the breadth of Iguazu was amazing.
I found it pleasant having company along the trail. Being early afternoon, I thought it would be best to take photos later in the day (wrong). So, we took our time along the trail and I took a few shots, including a few of Rachel so she could have some higher quality pics. Speaking Spanish the whole way, we wound our way along the trail, which sat higher than the Argentine path. There were several balconies with beautiful overlook points to stop, admire, and take pictures. For whatever reason, there were loads of Brazilian kids and teenagers clogging the path that day. While not as bad as the Argentine side, I still couldn’t believe the volume of foot traffic. Dripping sweat and a bit fried, the final bridge overlook provided an oasis. Here we were able to walk alongside a couple waterfalls and over the water while enjoying the refreshing spray generated by the force of the Falls.
Afterwards, Rachel and I parted ways as she had to catch an afternoon bus back to Buenos Aires. I sat down to a marginal, yet expensive fast food cheeseburger and fries and savored every drop of my diminutive bottle of Gatorade. While walking the path in reverse proved to be better in terms of not running into many people, it wasn’t great for taking pics as the sun lowered on the Argentine side and caused quite a bit of glare and washed out the picture. A bit frustrated for having made such an obvious oversight, I determined to return to the Brazilian side later–something I had wanted to do anyway.
On the way out, I had my first encounter with Portuguese. I asked a couple park workers if I was at the right bus stop, but I couldn’t understand a word of their reply. Fortunately, there was a Brazilian girl named Gabrielle who spoke decent Spanish and helped me. We chatted on the bus ride back and she told two other foreigners and me to get off at a certain point to change buses. I was about to, but it didn’t look right and the other foreigners thought it was the wrong spot too. Of course, having lived in Foz do Iguacu for a long time, Gabrielle had been right and we had to get off and back track a bit to get back to Puerto Iguazu.
That night I easily devoured a mediocre, large ham pizza, and against my better judgment, the better part of 1.5 liters of Pepsi. I was exhausted and realized I needed to make sure to bring water from the grocery store on subsequent park visits.
