Author: Kruse

Santa Cruz (translated: Saint Kruse)

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12 July

Did I mention my hotel room here has no blankets?  Lots of places in the far north didn’t – but that was where it was warm, and they provided a topsheet instead, which was enough.  Here – nothing.  And cold.  So – use my sleeping bag for the first time.  Turns out to be stupidly warm – just used as a blanket.  Get out from underneath it, and it’s freezing.  Anyway – today checked out museum.  Not too interesting.  But they had caught one of every creature in the area, and stuffed it.  Hundreds of birds, weird mammals, frogs, snakes, insects, etc.  Then – go to tourist office type place to ask about bus to Bolivia.  200 Guaranis.  Luckily, they also mention a bank next door (disguised as a non-bank), where I change all my seppo & brasilian currency.  Now have enough for the bus, and some extra.  As long as I can pay for hotel with Visa.

13 July

Get up early for my 6am bus.  Wait for bus, next to tourism-type shop.  About 7am, the lady who’d given me information arrives.  Looks confused at seeing me.  After a while, I figure out she meant 6pm last night.  Not 6am this morning.  Dumb.  But – she reckons there’s another one at 10am.  So – hang around, meet three seppo girls – give them some advice on the town.  Then, I sit at ‘bus-stop’.  (Side of road next to tourism shop & my ‘local’ ‘bar’.  Wait, and wait.  At noon I decide I’ve earnt some food and cerveza.  Chap talks to me, doesn’t like it when I don’t understand spanish very well.  I think he tells me I should leave Parguay ‘rapido’ in that case.  Lucky I didn’t say I didn’t understand drunk mumbling spanish very well.  But, after a while of him talking to others, I overhear “aleman”.  I jut in, and say I am NOT German.  Everybody becomes a lot friendlier.  I don’t think the local population is too happy with the german mennonites.  We talk about money, which I’m never too comfortable with.  In Uruguay, when I was forced to tell my annual wage in US$, the guy thought I was getting my zeros mixed up – thought I’d put two too many on the number.  I reassured him I was right, much later I realised I’d admitted to being a double-millionaire by his standards.  Here – I’m a half-billionaire.

Old man starts talking to me.  All friendly-like, a little creepy.  Says there’s definitely a bus at 4, and until then – he knows a cheaper place to drink.  So – we go.  He offers to take my small bag as we walk in the narrow doorway.  Fair enough.  Puts it down beside him, under the table opposite me.  I feel a little uneasy.  We chat.  I notice his hand under the table, obviously moving, as if itching his ankle.  Uneasiness grows.  He asks me to see the brasilian & uruguayan coins I’d shown some guys earlier.  Mistake on his part – as they’re in my small bag.  As soon as I make a move for it, he realises, and pulls it out for me.  In the process, I distinctly hear the zip being done back up.  Shit.  I get the coins out – put them on table for him to look at.  While he’s doing that, I check my stuff.  Obviously has been gone through.  Only thing missing I can identify is my Leatherman.  Not happy.  I ask him if he has something, about ‘this size’.  He reckons ‘no’.  I tell him goodbye, and storm out.  Soon regret it, and think I should have forced him to give me it back, but by now he (if smart) would have stashed the swag.  Go back to my local, get a cerveza, and fume.  One guy I’d talked to the last two days turns up, and we chat.  I don’t mention anything, but somehow have remembered the thief’s name.  Ask my friend about him – and he says he’s ‘no good’.  After a while, the thief sheepishly comes back, and sidles onto the bench seat next to me.  He’s holding one side of his face, and hands me back the Leatherman.  Tells me a Paraguayan hit him?  I’m a little confused, as I hadn’t told anybody.  Maybe the bargirl at the other bar had guessed what had happened?  Anyway – I get it back, and he asks for a beer.  Cheek deserves a beer, I guessed – so pour him half a glass, and tell him that’s the last one.  My more trustworthy friend, not knowing what has happened, cautions me to move all my bags away from the thief.  Later, the thief asks me for money as well.  No chance.  Tries the sympathy vote because he’s been hit.  For thieving from me.  Demonstrates by hitting me.  Very softly, but still – bad strategy.

Chat to some more locals, including a ladies man.  Getting a little antsy about the bus by this point, but my new amigos notice – and reassure me.  Eventually a bus arrives.  My amigos say it’s not my one, but I rush over to check.  It turns out it is.  So – hurried goodbyes, and I get on a bus where the aisle is too thin for me to carry my small backpack down.  Bus eventually gets to Mariscal E-something, the military settlement.  I get off near the edge of town – where I see a hotel sign.  Is now fairly late at night – so figure I’m going to have to catch the bus to Bolivia tomorrow.  Go to hotel, get a room.  Have to pay in advance – not usual.  Then – go to local bar.  Largest man I’ve ever seen in real life – large enough that I am genuinely surprised when he gets out of his seat to get me a burger/beer.  I actually expected him to ring a bell, and for somebody else to come out and do his bidding.  But, we watch some Jean Claude Van Damme together, and I discover that the only bus to Bolivia passes through at 3am each morning, and is 240 Guaranis.  I now have approximately 265 – luckily have already paid for burger/cerveza and hotel.  I go back to hotel, and hòpe I can wake up at 2am.  Am very very tired, but am stuck here for a full day with no money, and no way of getting money, if I don’t.

14 July

Hooray – managed to get up.  Leave my key in my door, in case I miss the bus and need more sleep.  Walk to the migration station, and arrive there just as a bus arrives.  Busman (guy not driving, but kind of sidekick) – very keen to get me onboard.  Sure.  250 Guaranis.  Hand him my pack, and he rushes me towards the queue for exit stamps.  Where there’s a dozen people in front of me, and I wait for some time in cold, making friends with the police dogs.  Get stamped out, then get on bus.  Very very little legroom.  Fall asleep for several hours, and then woken at 8am for the Bolivian migration checkpoint.  Awesome – Bolivia.  As soon as I get off the bus, it strikes me as being everything one expects and wants from South America.  Tiny village on a dirt road, wooden huts, roaming chickens and pigs, army base.  Get my entry form, and change my Guaranis into Bolivianos.  Buy an orange juice.  Fill out my form, then remember seeing a poster on the wall in the migration ’shack’ that looked to be a list of prices for various nationalities.  Lowest price was 15Bs, I now have 12.50.  And I can’t go back to Paraguay.  Dumb.  But, get to the front, a bit of delay when he can’t find my Paraguay exit stamp, and won’t let me find it for him – but doesn’t ask for money.  Sweet.  Back on bus, where I give my seat to the wife of an army guy, with two kids.  BusMan not happy, and insists I sit down – finds a seat for me further up the front.  Breakfast is served – biscuits and chocolate milk.  Any liquid is appreciated by now, dry biscuits are not.  But I force them down.  Several hours later – lunch is served.  A choice – the better of which (according to guy sitting opposite me, whose taste I respect after he booed the BusMan for putting Rambo II on the TV) – is the cold piece of chicken with a chunk of mandioca.  And a bottle of soft drink.  I eat as much of the food as I can before soft drink is gone.  Impossible to swallow without liquid to wash it down.

Eventually get to Santa Cruz, Bolivia.  Bolivia is cool.  On way in, drive past a grass airstrip.  Complete with abandoned fuselage of an aircraft.  Didn’t get close enough to see the bulletholes, but I assume they’re there.  The traces of the last shipment of cocaine is bound to be long gone though.  Bus doesn’t go to terminal, so I have no idea of where I am.  Except in a small walled compound with barbed wire.  BusMan is keen to get me a taxi (rather eager to please overall, the BusMan) – and does so.  Insists on an address – so I pick first hostel from guide book.  Get there, and hostel is full – so original plan of walking around looking for somewhere is not ruined after all.  Original plan turns out to be bad though – as next three hotels are all full also.  Find a restaurant, and order a jug of lemon juice, and food.  Lemon juice fills me up, so can’t finish my food.  Much food, for little money though.  I do manage to finish my cerveza.

Decide to head towards bus terminal.  There are several hostels there, and worst case – can get on the next bus to somewhere.  Pass one last hostel in central city – listed in the guidebook as being very popular, and bookings much recommended.  Not much hope – but they have room.  Sweet.  Joy fades as I walk into the courtyard, and hear very american accents.  Having a very seppo conversation.  Decide very quickly I won’t be joining in their conversation.  Ever.  Drop my stuff off, and leave to look for small local bar.  Can’t find one – end up settling for a bar in a shopping mall where some locals are playing backgammon.  Looks to be the best I can expect in the central city.  Back to hotel, and wait for seppo and canidiot in my dormroom to finish talking about seppo sports before I can go to sleep.  In my book-o-notes I actually wrote that the bus journey was 36 hours.  That’s how long this day has seemed.

15 July

Woken up by loud seppos having an early breakfast, just as I’d overheard them promise last night.  But – get back to sleep.  Other people in dorm slip out quietly.  Then, seppo below me gets up.  Turns on light, packs loudly and lengthily, and then leaves – leaving light on.  So I get up also – but too late to explain certain things to Uncle Sam.  I go for a walk.  Town is dead, as it is Sunday.  Another country where they still hold Sunday as a family day type deal.  The central plaza, however, is fairly busy.  And pretty cool.  Perfectly maintained gardens, trees, etc.  Most other south american plazas – more concrete.  Here – beautiful.  Still, of course, containing the statue of some fellow – almost always a military chap.  Apparently there are some sloths living in the trees here, but I don’t see any.  Don’t look too hard either though – rather hungry.  Eventually find a place for food.  Interpret one menu entry as being something-of-duck soup.  Very cheap.  Sweet – order that.  Get some soup and bread.  Has offal in it – I think I eat the heart, but can’t manage the kidney.  Seems to be far too large for duck-bits.  Still a little hungry, considering a sandwich or burger from a street stall.  Then – the second course arrives.  Menu item was actually the soup of the day, and then fried rice with shredded duck.  Far far too much for me to eat, for a little over NZ$2.  Sweet.

Back to the hostel.  See a toucan on the roof.  Sweet – take a photo.  Then, it flies down onto table in the courtyard.  Sweet – photo.  Then, jumps onto arm of chair.  Photo.  Then, it starts eating my shirt.  Okay – photo, then run away, as it has a very long beak, and dangerously close to the groin.  Then, it jumps onto ground, and chases me.  While I’m wearing jandals.  I think it got annoyed when I tried to give it a jandal to eat.  And has short-man syndrome.

Go for another walk.  Don’t get very far before a local asks me the time.  Then uses that as an opening for a chat.  I understand very little, but manage to bluff my way through.  Much talk about how cold it is.  He seems interested in how many layers of clothing I’m wearing.  I show him my Icebreaker is made of wool – so warm, and he grabs it to see what’s underneath.  Odd.  Then, after finding I’m from New Zealand, I think he starts talking about New Zealanders having large penises.  Odd.  Goes on and on about it.  Then, about nudist beaches, I think?  About being naked anyway – pretty sure I got that bit right.  And goes on about that.  And then a cycle of those two topics, with it being cold thrown in occasionally.  When he pauses for breath after a while, I use my perfect knowledge of how to say “I have to go now, goodbye” to great effect.  Find a cuban cafe, and order a bottle of wine.  Sit there for a while, reading the graffiti all over the walls.  Notice one piece on the ceiling.  A map of New Zealand with “New Zealand    Aotearoa    Viva la revolucion   Bro”.   Awesome.  Am most pleased.  Then I notice the date on it – only two days ago.  Sweet.

Back to hostel – and drink some yerba mate while watching the Copa America final.  Then, am forced into going to “Irish Pub” for dinner.  No Guinness.  But, order irish stew & a bottle of red wine, and watch cars driving around the plaza with brasilian flags.  Rather happy, and loud, brasilians.  Back to hostel, and drink some more mate.

Filadelfia – yep, that’s it’s name

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Meant to get up on 09 July to watch OZ vs SA at the rugby thing.  Set my watch for 6am, when I thought it was on ESPN+.  But, changed my mind at 6am, funnily enough.  Found out later on that it actually ended at 6am – so good sleepyhead judgement.  Anyway – eventually got up.  Walked around town searching for my list of souvenirs I, at sometime, decided I would get from each country.  Also, asking in every sportswear store for a Paraguay national team rugby shirt.  Found an Adidas outlet store, with All Blacks stuff.  Lots of All Blacks stuff.  Posters of Lomu on the wall.  Staff wearing All Blacks.  Security, not part of uniform, wearing All Blacks scarves.  Customers, wearing All Blacks jackets, looking at All Blacks jerseys.  Later, in the update, I will flash my New Zealand badge around as much as possible in this shop, and buy an offical All Blacks jersey for NZ$55.

Walked towards shopping centre where shop assistant thought I might find Paraguay rugby jersey.  Stopped for internet.  Researched.  Shopping centre is actually many many miles away.  Paraguay rugby jersey made by a company called “Flash”, which as any computer nerd will know – makes it very difficult for internet searches.  Back to central city.  Very good steak to make up for my failure.  Finally manage to follow through with my idea of getting a plain piece of paper/card laminated, and buying a whiteboard pen – to use as a very portable whiteboard.  Ben knows how useful this is.  Imagine language difficulties, both parties raise their eyes to the heavens wishing they could write or draw something… and BANG!  Kruse produces a handy pocket-size whiteboard with appropriate marker.  Situation solved.   Later, in the update, I will have my invention stolen by a small child.   Not happy about that part – because you can’t imagine how difficult it is to convince a shop-worker that all you want is a plain piece of white paper laminated.

But – at this point I’m happy.  So, go back to my local Asuncion bar.  Meet some Chileans & Argys.  One Argy wearing a NZ Rugby shirt.  End up going back to this chap’s apartment, as he works here – the rest of the crowd are visiting him.  Lives 50 metres around the corner.  Cervezas.

10 July – leave my residencial.  Walk around town with full pack – and buy an official (and yes, I think it actually is official, although from an outlet store) All Blacks jersey for NZ$well – you already know.   Back to my ‘local’.  Guys I met up with last night turn up.  After I missed my date with their local friends.  One cerveza, then they leave, and I catch bus to long-distance bus terminal.  Then catch bus to Pozo Colorado.  Guide book describes it as a “small crossroads town”.  I get there in the late evening, and first impression is “two large service stations”.  But, have a quick cerveza to get my head right, and try to explore town.  Find a shed selling food.  Buy food.  Kruse very hungry.  Then cerveza, as an attempt to find out who works there and who doesn’t, and to ask where there is any accommodation in ‘town’.  The answer is “here’s your cerveza, there is no accommodation in town”.  Well, that was my understanding.  But then, he followed up with something that sounded like he didn’t understand what I was saying.  I thought hopefully.  Finished cerveza (if there’s no place to stay, I might as well be drunk – I thought) – and then returned to service station.  Seemed like a place where people wore uniforms, rather than a place with a dozen kids running around – and half of them seemingly running the joint, might give me better advice on where to stay.  But the lady there agreed.  Nowhere.  No beds to hire in Pozo Colorado.  Nada.  Night time now.  Not cool.  And cold.  So very very cold.  News article on the telly entitled “FRIO EXTREMO EN PARAGUAY!”  Frio means cold.  I spend night in service station / truck stop.   Sporadically sleeping, resting my head on the table using the bits of my scarf I can spare as a pillow.   Chatting to drunken truck driver once when I wake up at 1am.  I think he was trying to hint he could give me a ride.  I had impression from guidebook that I had to get my Paraguay exit stamp in my passport here.  And he had three empty (small) whiskey bottles on the table.  And was swaying when he stood up.  We chatted, and waved goodbye.

11 July – woke up several times more, until I woke up with many more customers in the truck stop.  The TV breakfast shows are all about the newspaper headlines.  People dying from the extreme cold.  Polilce picking up homeless people, to take them to jail, to protect them from the cold.  Good timing for me staying in a truck stop with no heating.  But… survived.  Went and asked a lawman about getting a migration exit stamp.  He reckons I can get one at the border.  My guide book reckons ‘nah’.  And also reckons that if it is right, and the copper is just bullshitting me, it’s a very long and dodgy trip back to rectify the situation.  Sweet.

Eventually paid my tab for spending about 14 hours in the service station.  Could have lied about everything from previous night – due to new crew, but I’m a nice guy.  I am.  Went to wait for bus.  At bus station.  Bus station is a very old, very broken-down bus – with tarpaulin forming a verandah.  Waited a long time.  On the bus – played the smiling game with a small girl.  Rather stricken by the strange blonde-haired man.

– side note.  Have now been mistaken for russian, finnish, and german.  Always, always for german in Paraguay.  To the point where I had actually taken down a note in my mind that “alèman” must be another word for “country”.  It was only this morning that I checked, and it means “german”.  And, Nathan please note especially, as I am constantly terrified that you may grow an uncontrollable crush on me…   all of these countries’ stereotypes have one thing in common, and it is not oranges.

But – am now in Filadelfia.
Half the population are german.  Half native indian Guarani.  Supposedly the hostility has died down between them, but I’m pretty sure I was hissed at by a group of Guaranis earlier.  Luckily, have made friends with some of the older ones rather quickly.  A bit of the old drinking will do that.  Turns out that to get to Bolivia, there is no direct bus from here.  Have to get a bus to some military town (some of you will know how well I get along with army types), at 5:30 am on Fridays or Mondays.  So… Kruse, turning up to a military town at 6:30 in the morning, with very little sleep, in a country with a rather paranoid military – which were, until only recently, in entire control of the country.  And on the border with their most recent war enemy.  Good idea.  Still, got to be done.  And – not entirely sure if there is actually going to be a bus from this military town (named after a war hero, including General, and four names), to Bolivia or not.  And when it rains, everything gets stuck.  In Colonia del Sacramento, the young English bloke asked me if I’d got “off the beaten track” at all.  I didn’t much like the hackneyed phrase, and especially didn’t like the fact that I had to say no.  But, when I started telling him some of the anecdotes, his eyes opened in awe, and I wondered if perhaps I had.  Or if he was just a young kid with a suitcase with wheels.  And now, I reckon he’d probably think I was TRAVEL GOD.  I, of course, know otherwise.  When there’s an american accent on your bus here, you’re not too far off the tourist path.

Babbling. Anyway… hopefully will upload photos soon.  Haven’t done so in a while, and I always get a little antsy about my camera when I haven’t backed up photos.  However, may not be able to access internet for a while.  Looking at map, and reading description – between here and Bolivia is rather hard terrain.  In fact, the “toughest rally IN THE WORLD”.  Or some such.  And I’ll be catching a bus across it.  A 1970’s Mercedes bus, most likely.

Paraguay

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Well – I didn´t make it to Paraguay.  Not the day after last update, anyway.  Tried.  Didn´t succeed.  Will tell the story while listening to Ace Of Base.

05 July

Got up – sent a package home.  Some very very small souvenirs home.  A lucky few will get tiny souvenirs from my trips.  As small as they were, it was still a relief to get them out of the backpack.  Anyway – spent ages getting the postage thing sorted.  Cost me twice as much in postage as the value of the contents.  Had one last (I thought) brasilian churrascaria for lunch.  Then – convinced a very drunk man that I didn´t want him to give me a ride across the border, and that the bus was fine.  Took a long time.  Then – caught the bus.  Bus went to the border, and kept going.  We got on the bridge between Brasil & Paraguay, and I realised that this was another border where migration formalities aren´t so formal.  Got off the bus in Paraguay, walked back past Paraguay migration, across the bridge – and ´checked out´of Brasil.  Back across bridge to Paraguay migration.  Remembered, well – was reminded, that I need a visa.  Walked back, and re-entered Brasil.  According to my passport – for the fifth time.

So – back to Foz Do Iguacu.  Back to the hostel – where there was a pair of scandinavian girls giving each other back-rubs.  Ignored this.  Chose a different bed, and then walked up and down the street which was supposed to contain the Paraguayan consulate.  Didn´t see anything.  Was evening by now, so bought some dodgy DVDs off the street, and some beer, and returned to hostel.

06 July – asked hostel owner where the consulate was, and actually took notice of the number of the address in the guide book.  Her thoughts and the guide book matched.  Reality did not.  Asked dairy owner (who didn´t even flinch at my portuguese/spanish – sweet) – and he reckoned two blocks up, then two blocks to the right.  Not too sure how much to trust a brasilian with numbers – but he turned out to be nearly spot-on.  Girl at consulate gave me list of requirements.  Involving photocopies of tickets into and out of Paraguay.  Tried to convince her that seeing as I could, and would, walk across a bridge there – I didn´t have or need tickets.  Wasn´t convinced.  So – found photocopy place, copied my credit card, and two copies of the ´ticket´stub given to me by bus driver yesterday.  Quite pleased with my cheek, I was.  But – girl was not.  Tried to convince me to go buy a prepaid taxi chit from down the road, and when I hesitated for a while (just trying to confirm exactly what I needed), called somebody with a bit more initiative.  Who must have told her to chill out, and it was all good.  Then – waited for an hour or so, chatting to another consulate worker about the All Blacks.  And was then asked for US$50.  Had to be US$.  The seppos have got a lot to answer for.  So – left, went back to hostel, and got my backup funds which are US$.  Back to consulate.  Person who can stamp the visa to make it official is at lunch.  For two hours.  So I go to lunch.  Expensive seafood restaurant.  Order white wine and alligator stew.  Out of alligator, they reckon.  Dumb – I was looking forward to that.  Have boring crab stew instead.  Eventually, back to consulate, and get my passport with visa.  After a long day, I buy more dodgy DVDs, a bottle of wine, and some beers.  Spend evening utilising them, and chatting to the scandinavian girls (turn out to be danish), and a norwegian couple.

07 July – walk to bus station, and have a beer at street side stall.  Catch a bus, and this time get off before Brasil migration.  Get stamped out, and walk across bridge.  This time, Paraguay lets me in.  But, my visa – for which I had asked two weeks – seems to be ten days.  Oh well – it doesn´t sound like there´s much to do here anyway.  Except for enjoying the lack of tourists – due to lack of stuff to do.  To the point where, apparently, when I head north to Bolivia – my ´mere presence will arouse suspicion´from the military.  Sweet.

But – back from the future.  Ciudad Del Este… walked up from the border bridge, past continuous dodgy electronic stalls.  ´The Supermarket Of South America´, they reckon it´s called.  And seeing the huge lines of people on the Brasilian side waiting to go through customs with larg bags full of electronics, blankets, and everything else – yeah.  But, I´ve left my consumerism behind – so strolled past, stopping briefly to change my Reais into Guaranis off an old man sitting on the sidewalk.  Then – kept walking, until I found a small cafe/bar.  Stopped for a beer, and to check the guidebook, and figure out what I was actually going to do.  Discovered I´d been walking away from accommodation, and towards the bus station.  Using my normal method of decision making – I figured I might as well continue on this path.  So – kept walking, past a park with a statue of some Chinese president, as well as a chinese junk make of concrete in a dry pond.  Probably just as well the pond was dry, I guess.  Also, next to this park, a sports ground.  With a scrum machine.  And rugby posts.  I´m sure the young kids loitering there weren´t too sure as to why I would take a photo of an empty sportsfield.  Continued on, and found bus station, and took first hawkers offer of a bus to Asuncion.  I got a seat number (not the seat next to remarkably attractive girl which I originally took, (by the way – I took the seat before she was there) but another).  Then, after bus was full, people kept getting on board.  About a dozen people standing in the aisle for most of the 5 hour trip.  I think Paraguay is going to be a nice gentle introduction to such things before getting to Ecuador & Peru.  Got to Asuncion in the middle of a thunderstorm.  Paid the money for a taxi to a pousada, and then went out for food and beer.  Bad food, adequate beer.

08 July – Woken by more thunder.  Went for a walk… Asuncion supposed to be fairly nice just because of the parks and trees and such.  First park I find is filled with makeshift tents.  Protest or homeless, I´m not sure.  Walk on to Plaza Indepencia.  Home of the Pantheon de Los Heroes.  A monument towards heroes.  Outside – sure, nice.  Inside – pretty cool.  Big churchy bit, bit of a shame, but a pit in the middle with the coffins and urns of several Paraguayan historical figures – as well as two ´Unknown Soldiers´ – one a child I believe.  Also, heaps of plaques.  Either for or from heaps of people/groups.  Including the Lions Club of Leblon, Rio de Janeiro.  And the President of Taiwan.  Odd.  I happened to see the changing of the guard, which was rather simple and to the point.  Also – being a Sunday – they then held a church service inside.  I didn´t stick around.  However, being a Sunday, there was absolutely nothing else to do.  Everything closed.  These south americans still cling to that quaint old thing ´family values´- especially on Sundays.  Still raining rather heavily, so I found an open bar with red wine.  Then, checked out the Governers Mansion.  Apparently, at some point, the law was that anybody caught looking at it would be ´shot in the act´.  So I was a little worried when a soldier started yelling at me – but he just wanted me to get off the big bit of grass out the front.

Oh – and did I mention that the flag of Paraguay is slightly different on each side?  The only such national flag IN THE WORLD!  Also, by some reports, Paraguay is supposed to be the cheapest country IN THE WORLD!  And now, back across the road to one of the few bars open in town, to see if I´m too late to watch the end of Paraguay getting thrashed by Mexico.  If I ever lower myself enough to buy a soccer shirt – it´s going to be Paraguay.  I had actually decided on the bus to get one, then figured that rugby seems to be more popular here than I thought, and maybe I´ll spend tomorrow trying to get a Paraguayan national rugby team shirt.

Iguazu/Iguassu

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Best waterfalls IN THE WORLD!  Biggest (they reckon) hydro dam IN THE WORLD!

But first – Puerto Iguazu.  Got there, as I said previously.  First day – walked around town, and checked out the Tres Fronteiras.  Pretty much the border of three countries – Argentina, Brasil & Paraguay – river borders though, so no jumping over lines singing the name of each country.  Each has got an obelisk in appropriate colours.  Fair enough.  HOWEVER – the perfect oppurtunity/excuse for a giant flag – gone begging.  I can’t describe how much I love giant flags.  And this place would be perfect for a “Flags Race” (ie: along lines of an arms race.  But with flags.  Need it spelt out any more?)

But – just boring normal size flags.  I actually fumed about it for the rest of the day.  After this though – did go to visit something they’ve done in giant.  A trap.  They took a traditional animal trap, and made a giant one.  Not sure why.  But it’s big.  Nowhere near as cool as a giant flag though.

Next day, I think (sense of time well and truly gone by now), went to visit Iguazu Falls.  Caught a bus there, with my pack (intending to head on to Brasil that evening).  Stowed my pack at their luggage storage.  Went into the national park.  First couple of lookout points – “ho hum, nice waterfall, but….”.   Then – I don’t really know how to describe it without calling upon profanity or referring to religious characters.  Best waterfalls IN THE WORLD!  Spectacular, beautiful, utterly amazing.  And this was the first trail, chosen by myself to do first as it builds tension – before the other two trails which get better and better.  Cool.  Pretty much a canyon full of waterfalls.  I believe there are 275 waterfalls in total comprising Iguazu Falls, and it is just beautiful seeing this one part of it which must have 200 of them lined up next to each other.

Then – the lower trail, pretty much seeing the same thing, but from below.  Including getting up rather close to one of the more powerful ones.  And, a boat trip – which takes you very very close to two of the more powerful ones – which involves getting drenched (waterproof bags provided to put your cameras in – literally drenched).  Anyway, plenty more awesome views.  Probably lots which are rather similar, but each time I came to a lookout, completely awestruck all over again.  So – apologies for the number of photos, especially as I doubt they really convey the actual impression (definitely not, seeing as it was impossible to ever get an entire view into a single shot – hence several movie clips).

Anyway, before I start gushing (like I do whenever the Great Wall is brought up – yeah Ben – it is about that good), moved onto what is supposed to be the highlight.  A catwalk which takes you right to the brink of the Gargantun de Diablo / Devil’s Throat.  The biggest/most-powerful of the lot, I believe.  Yeah – pretty cool.  But solely from the raw power of the thing.  I think I actually prefer the beauty of seeing a couple hundred waterfalls lined up side by side, with a couple of them powerful enough to throw up spray and what-not.  This one – just a huge beast, with so much spray being thrown up you couldn’t see more than ten metres down from the top.  Still – would have loved to stay there and just sit and watch for a while, but couldn’t remember what time the luggage storage place at the front desk closed.  So – stayed for a decent amount of time, then hurried back.  Got my pack, discovered there weren’t any buses onwards to Brasil – so had to return to Puerto Iguazu.

Got a bus from there to Foz do Iguacu, Brasil.  Bus stops at Argy migration.  Everybody gets off, goes through.  Sweet.  Driver asks me if I want to go through Brasilian immigration.  I figure I probably should.  Bus stops, I get off.  Driver hands me a ticket, and tells me to take my luggage.  Then – drives off.  Hmmmm.  Find the migration office, get stamped in, etc.  Then figure out the ticket the driver gave me is a “re-embarque” ticket.  Ah – sweet, must be able to use it to get on next bus.  Two hours later, very hungry, cold, & tired – I finally ask a customs guy if he knows when next bus will be.  Apparently, no more buses.  I was on the last one.  Sweet.  Ask him how far away the city is.  He reckons 5 km.  He’s Brasilian – so 5 could mean anywhere from 2 through 25.  I start walking anyway.  Find an expensive looking hotel – with taxi stand outside.  Sweet – catch taxi to hostel.  Rather happy to drop off stuff, and go to a churrascaria for R$10.  (All you can eat brasilian meats for about NZ$7)

Then – Sunday, town dead.  I’d planned on doing laundry and relaxing.  Can’t do laundry – because no laundry place open.  Nothing open.  Nada.  So – watch bad movies, download the NZ/Aus rugby game, and upload photos.  Then – watch rugby, and go to bed angry.

Monday – do laundry.  Sweet.  Walk around town, and that’s about it.  Buy some dodgy DVDs off a guy on the street, and watch more bad movies while having a few cervejas.

Tuesday – get up and do stuff.  Caught bus to the brasilian version of Iguassu Falls.  Walked along a trail, which had some pretty sweet views of all the waterfalls side by side.  From a distance, you could kind of see the whole effect a little more, but not so much as I’d been led to expect.  Then, what they seem to think is the main attraction – another catwalk to Gargantun do Diablo.  This time – kind of in front of the side of the waterfall.  argy catwalk went right to edge of the very top of the fall, this one was kind of set on a ledge a short distance from the top.  And around the corner from the main “Throat”.  Got soaked walking on it from all the spray.  Kinda cool, but I’m not sure why they don’t promote the trail I walked on first a lot more.  It was portrayed as an optional walk for those who like that sort of thing – but to my mind was the highlight of the brasilian side.

Oh well.  By this stage was hungry.  Choice of two joints that looked incredibly like mcdonalds, just without the piss-yellow arches.  Instead, paid for an overpriced buffet.  Pretty good buffet though.  Avacado salad.  With strawberries, and when they replaced it – kiwifruit.  Also – I got myself a caipirinha made with kiwifruit instead of limes.  And figured out the place of wasps in the ecosystem.  They are here to punish those who drink cocacola.  I took great pleasure in sitting at my table, with one or two wasps to keep me company (one I made friends with by fishing him out of my caipirinha.  I actually thought he was dead, but after he sobered up, the little fella spent the next half an hour cleaning himself up, and eventually flew away) – while at every single table with a can of cocacola on it, the people spent their entire time shooing away hordes of wasps.  Sweet.

Got back to hostel, and chatted with english couple I’d met at breakfast.  I think they skipped the trail, but I didn’t rub their noses in what they’d missed.  They were going to the argy side the following day – so that will more than make up for it.  Their expectations may have been lowered as well – so they’re in for a treat.  Also – they’d been given a voucher for 20% off at a churrascaria.  Advertising itself as a gathering point for foreigners.  Which raised my suspicions immediately.  But – they were all set for it, and I was lonely, so I joined them.  Got there – rather nice looking place.  But, we still didn’t ask how much it was.  20% off – can’t go wrong, right?  Salad bar was rather good.  Broccoli!  Hadn’t seen broccoli since NZ.  Not a big fan of the stuff usually, but actually had spent the last week thinking about it.  Mostly because my intake of vegetables has solely consisted of as much lettuce as I can stomach alongside my all-you-can-eat delivered-constantly-to-the-table delicious meat.  Anyway – as you have probably guessed, bill came, and it was rather large.  R$42 each for the food.  None of us too happy, and again I held my tongue about my usual haunt being rather similar for only R$10, and the beer also being about a quarter of the price.  ‘Cause I’m a nice guy.  We coughed up, and went back to the hostel to stew.  I bought some cervejas, and we watched a brasilian game show (trying to answer the questions, despite not understanding the host – surprisingly successfully at times), and played some cards.  Then – off to bed.  I broke mine getting into it.  Lifted up mattress to see what I’d done, and laughed.  Really rather surprising it hadn’t broken beforehand – and after I fixed it, I wasn’t too happy about getting onto it again.  But – after a few cervejas, and rather tired – I dared it.  I should get a photo of the ‘mechanism’ which is holding the mattress up – it is beautiful.

Anyway – got up this morning, and fixed my bed again.  Had breakfast, and a new guest arrived – to stay in same dorm as me.  Breaking the bed again, which is inevitable, is going to be rather embarrassing this time.  Oh well.  After breakfast, got some more cash out (was cleaned out by restaurant last night) – and caught a bus to Itaipu Dam.  The biggest IN THE WORLD, they reckon.  I was going in order to tell them they were wrong.  “I’ve seen, and trespassed on, the biggest dam IN THE WORLD.” I was planning to say.  But – then my bus stopped, and I was told it was the end of the line.  No dam in sight.  If it’s that big, I should be able to see it pretty easily, was my thought.  But, thought I’d have a little hunt-around for it.  Got off the bus, and found myself in a dirt street.  Luckily the houses looked to be relatively well-to-do (for some reason my paranoia of thieves, which mostly disappeared as soon as entering Uruguay, returned immediately on returning to Brasil).  Anyway – started walking.  Found the main road, and followed it.  Found the dam’s visitor centre.  Still no dam in sight, which increased the amount of scorn I was preparing for it.  Discovered that the only way to see the dam was at certain times.  So – sat around for 50 minutes before the next one.  Finally – bought my ticket.  Entered – ushered into an auditorium.  Watched a movie clip.  A twenty minute long advertisement.  It actually nearly convinced me that a giant construction, with enough concrete to build 210 Maracana stadiums, enough iron&steel to build 350 or so Eiffel towers, moved more earth than the Suger Loaf, and displaced 1 (or 4?) million people – was going to save the world.  Interactive display earlier had reassured me that even when the Three Gorges was finished, Itaipu will still be the biggest dam in the world in the one stat that really matters – power production.  However, it also showed me side by side statistics regarding this, and other stuff.  Three Gorges could squash Itaipu.  So – after the videos of kids playing in fountains and people jet-skiing and what-not (they even tried to make giant power-pylons look beautiful) – I got on a bus to go see this SECOND biggest hydro-dam IN THE WORLD!  Another spiel via voice recording on the bus, mostly same old numbers.  210 Maracanas, blah Eiffel blah, etc etc.  We get to a spot with a pretty sweet view of the spillway.  Pretty big.  Bus keeps driving.  Gets to one lookout spot, and we can get out for photos.  (Voice recording had reassured us we’re allowed to take photos of anything we like.)  Yeah – pretty big dam.  I guess.  But pretty crap view of it.  Would have been better view from the bus earlier – but aisle seat in a crowded bus is not so good for photo oppurtunities.  After not long – summoned back to buses.  Keep driving.  Along bottom of dam.  Would have been some decent photos for the engineering nerds.  Then – along the top of it.  Would have been some decent photos from one end – to show the full extent of it.  But – bus keeps going.  And going – back to the visitor centre.  But, I guess, when you’re the SECOND biggest dam IN THE WORLD, you don’t want people to hang around for too long to notice how little you really are.  Most of it’s made with rocks and dirt anyway.  Not Three Gorges – pure concrete baby.  Interactive display told me.

So – that’s been Puerto Iguazu, Iguazu Falls, Foz Do Iguacu, Iguassu Falls, and little old Itaipu.  Tomorrow, hopefully, Paraguay.  Maybe there’ll be a decent spot there to take a photo of Itaipu.  Shouldn’t be hard to fit it all into one shot – so won’t have to waste too much memory-card on it.

Salto

Kruse Leave a comment

Am actually in Puerto Iguazu, but don’t want to write about it until after I’ve seen Iguacu Falls.  The best waterfalls IN THE WORLD!  They reckon.

So – in Fray Bentos – I went back to the first bar I went to on arrival.  Group of guys, including barman, playing cards.  I help myself to a beer, and watch.  A couple of the guys are smoking inside – tut tut.  Uruguay’s had the no smoking in bars/public places since March, I believe.  Stop at a sports club on way to bus station for another beer.  A poster on the wall with scantily-clad girl on sports car.  I think it’s an ad for a car battery.  At the bus station, I get my thermos filled with hot water from a candy kiosk – and drink my yerba mate, just like a local.

Get to Salto, and it’s raining.  So, go to nearest bar, of course.  Which happens to be more of a shed, really.  Parilla (barbecue) outside though, so a beer and some food.  Get to hotel – pretty cheap.  $150, less than my ‘dorm’ bed in Colonia.  The guy opens the door – it’s a huge room, with cool huge antique furniture.  (I think, I didn’t check to see if it was fake.  Possibly, but still would be worth heaps in NZ).  Too big to stick in the pack though.

26 June

Woke up late, so spent day wandering around town.  The fountains here actually work.  So – sorry for photos of fountains, but it was really rather surprising to see fountains with water in them.  Go to information office, and figure out how to get to the thermal pools.  Stuipidly easy, and feel guilty for not bothering to do it today.  But, go to the shed/tent/bar I discovered last night, and watch Uruguay vs Peru in the Copa America, have a few cervezas, chat to the locals, same old, same old.

27 June

Went to the thermal pools.  Pretty sweet, just hanging out in a thermal pool for a few hours.  Got bored of it, and decided to leave.  Got changed, and then discovered the spa & sauna.  But, too lazy to backtrack – so carried on.  Bus back to Salto, and then – of course – back to my local for a few drinks while waiting for my bus to Argentina.  Eventually got on the bus, crossed some dam which forms the bridge between Uruguay/Argentina – and arrived in Concordia, with no idea of what to do, or where to go.  Find a bus to Posadas at 1am.  Not really thinking clearly, but book it.  Go to restaurant, and order dinner.  With a bottle of wine – forgetting how much I’ve already had to drink (well – it was a while ago).

28 June

Arrive in Posadas.  But, I’m on a roll.  Immediately start looking for buses onward.  Find one, buy a ticket.  Then – discover a bus company called “KRUSE”.  Have already committed myself though – so follow through with bus to San Ignacio on a bus called “M. Hermandies” or something equally stupid.  Get there, leave pack at a store near the bus stop, and check out some old Jesuit ruins.  Wasn’t really expecting much.  But pretty cool.  Big complex they’d set up.  Self sufficient, they reckon.  I reckon “Prove it”.  One thing the jeebers-believers had done right, apparently.  Actually set up communities which were self sufficient, and were pretty sweet to live in.  I’ve heard them described as “utopian”.  I reckon “Prove it”.  Had at least one grapefruit tree though – so I reckon they must have got pretty close to utopia at least.  Prices for entry were cool too.  Different prices for locals, Uruguayans, Latin Americans, and ‘General’.

Then, let me think… (overnight and constant travel screws my perception of what happened on which day.  No – it’s NOT the booze) … right, walked a little bit around San Ignacio – not much else going on really.  Then, got on a bus to Puerto Iguazu.  Watched a DVD on the bus – rather obviously from some guy in a cinema with a video camera.  Constantly the video would disappear, or nearly disappear, as a jacket is placed over the camera.  I’m guessing cinema workers were walking past.  But eventually, made it to Puerto Iguazu.  Enjoy some more good beef and good red wine in Argentina, before Paraguay – which is far from being renowned for fine dining or wining.  Am staying at a place called Residencial Noelia, in case I go missing.

Fray Bentos

Kruse Leave a comment

Managed to escape Colonia.  Was looking a bit dodgy there for a moment, when I discovered the secret of buying 2 litres of red wine for 50 UR$ – just over 2 NZ$.  But – stuck around just long enough to watch the All Blacks vs South Africa.  I’d been told that the Uruguay cable channels show it – and knew the hostelhad cable – so decided to stay one more day, rather than risk the next town not having any.  Then, got worried – as volleyball coverage kept going well after time of kick-off.  Started thinking that maybe I’d miss the start, and the haka.  Then – rugby, but a kind of documentary/interview type thing.  On famous drop-goals.  And yes, Zinzan was included – and explained what was going through his head when he did it.  Finally, an hour after kick-off time – sweet, full delayed coverage.  In Spanish – which was cool.  Mostly just reciting the names of players with the ball, and once – when a penalty kick went through – the long drawn out yell, similar to the famous “Goooooooooooaaaaaalllllllll”.  Sweet.  Hung my NZ flag up on the wall, wore my NZ scarf and Ben’s NZ t-shirt.  All Blacks underwear.  Full sport-head like.  And had a South African to watch it with.  Americas Cup coverage on the internet beside me (crashed about 2/3 of the way through – but just as well, I guess).

Then – caught bus to Fray Bentos.  Met a kiwi couple at the bus station, and gave them the results.  Bus to Fray Bentos, broke down.  Buses here love to break down – luckily this one was at a bus station at the time.  Fray Bentos – home of what was once the centre of the meatpacking industry.  Responsible, I believe, for Oxo cubes, spam, and various other spam-like products.  First night – found dodgy little bar, met some locals, then went to play pool.  Yesterday, slept in well past checkout time – so paid for another night, then went to visit the old meat-works.  Didn’t go inside the actual factory (which apparently is quite interesting.  Pretty much left just as it was when the plant shut down – blood-stained hooks and all.)  But, walked around the museum attached to it.  Calf with two heads – it’s head(s) preserved in a jar.  History of the factory, etc.  Some guy came up with the idea of ‘meat extract’, came to Uruguay and built a factory to make it.  Also brought the industrial revolution to Uruguay in the process, machines at the factory supplied entire town’s power supply for a while.  Blah blah blah.

Other than that, Fray Bentos has nothing.  Except heaps of foreigners.  Was expecting to be only tourist, as everybody else I’ve talked to just goes Montevideo-Colonia-Buenos Aires, or the other way around.  Turns out I AM the only tourist, but there are several hundred foreigners, mostly Finnish, due to a paper mill being built nearby.  A paper mill which the Argentinians hate, and therefore have blocked the bridge border crossings – making it possible that I’m going to have trouble in a couple of days.  But, anyway, everybody here assumes I am Finnish, and that I’m involved with the factory.  Very very surprised when I say I’m a tourist, and usually react with disbelief for a while, and then asking “Why?”  Much friendlier once I convince them though, and I understand why after watching the behaviour of some of the other foreingers here last night.

This evening, I’m heading further north.  Got a bus ticket to Salto, but have 5 hours to kill.  Luckily, I discovered a cafe/bar with a type of cerveza I haven’t tried yet.  Salto is in the midst of a thermal area, with several ‘resorts’ scattered around.  So – hope to find a cheap one, and spend one or two days in a thermal pool.  Found out yesterday that I have already gone through the areas where the vineyards are located – so may conpensate in Salto.  Had some practice yesterday – although the bar owner tried to tell me that red wine was to be drunk slowly.  Crazy old fool.