Chasing Iguazu (Iguazu Falls: Day 2)
Word of the Day: Frutas del Bosque
Translates literally to “fruits of the forest” in English and indicates a mixed berry flavor. Generally contains a mix of raspberries, blackberries, and other berries and describes the flavor of jam and other preserves, as well as ice cream and smoothies. It is also delicious. (Wikipedia)
One incontrovertible fact that can make Iguazu frustrating to navigate is that everyone else in the world thinks the falls are just as amazing as you do. If you have a multi-day trip planned, there are two main approaches: revisit your favorite park places on the second day or range further afield to less-traveled attractions. We chose the latter option. So, after the Sheraton’s excellent breakfast, we meandered down to the park entrance to see what other possibilities the park had in store.
Once there, we made an informed but spontaneous decision to take the lesser-traveled Sendero Macuco. The trail is 1.5km each direction and starts around the train station closest to the park entrance and ends at a waterfall. Since it is a bit far from the other attractions, it seems to be overlooked, and it was probably one of the best decisions that we made on the trip.
Since the rainforest heat was punishing and muggy that day, the shade from the surrounding trees was a welcome relief. There were birds chattering everywhere, giant iguanas climbing across the path, and hundreds of butterflies flitting around in a dizzying array of jewel tones. That said, there were also spiderwebs and giant ants, so if you’re a person who abhors bugs, this may not be the path for you. But we did see monkeys careening between trees, so you should probably just grab some bug spray and your bathing suit and do it anyway…
Eventually we turned a corner and ran right into the top of the waterfall that we had come to see. We took the high road to peer over the edge before scurrying to the lower road and jumping into the water. The water was actually much warmer than expected, so we relaxed for awhile before scaling some of the slippery rocks at the base of the falls. Exquisite.
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Visiting la Tríplice Fronteira (Three Frontiers)
Once we finished out hike (and some relaxing time by the hotel pool), we dragged ourselves to the lobby and ordered a cab. The bus is cheap and comes every 20 minutes, but of course we had not been forward-thinking enough to change money and the hotel’s usurious rate was NOT a tempting prospect. So this is how we met Sergio, taxi driver extraordinaire.
He convinced us that it would be folly to walk from the Three Frontiers landmark to downtown in the blazing afternoon heat, and for a nominal fee, agreed to be our personal chartered taxi for the rest of the afternoon. As it turned out, he was definitely correct since the heat in Puerto Iguazu is positively searing. So hot that you feel like direct sunlight would reduce you to a sidewalk puddle that would disappear without a trace in 15 minutes or less.
Unexpectedly, the Three Frontiers landmark proved to be a super fascinating place. It is very rare that you can see three countries from a single place (Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay). Also, I have to admit that I was particularly curious to see Ciudad del Este in Paraguay, although it was from afar. Sergio described Ciudad del Este as “a giant mall” but said so with mild disdain. It is also telling that all car rental companies in the area classify Ciudad del Este as a risk not worth taking and will not insure anyone who wants to take their cars here. And, by all reports, the world considers the city to be the Taliban’s stronghold in America. The Boyfriend was extremely unenthusiastic about the prospect of heading to Paraguay, so perhaps another trip…
Regardless, it was neat to see how each country has decorated the visible buildings with their national colors to ensure that there is no mistaking which country is which. The physical proximity of these cities was much closer than I anticipated, separated only by the massive convergence of the Iguazu and Parana rivers. Suddenly the strong presence of the Argentinian navy and military made more sense than it had before.
Sight-Seeing in Puerto Iguazu
One thing that I did not know about the region is that the practice of taking a siesta to escape from the blazing heat outside is definitely still in vogue. So, when we arrived in Puerto Iguazu, we did what apparently all waking locals do–eat an enormous amount of ice cream. After a lengthy debate as to whether we should go with “artisanal” (Freddo) or “lowest common denominator” (which was next door), the heat settled the issue and we hurried into the closest one which happened to be Freddo.
One thing that most of my friends know about me is that I am a Dulce de Leche addict. Dulce de Leche, Manjar Blanco, Manjar, Caramel. I don’t care what your culture calls this glorious, gooey phenomenon, but I do know that my salivary glands go into hyperdrive and I start bouncing on my toes (or in my seat, depending on the situation) when I see it. So, to set the scene, I walk into Freddo and I almost have a stroke–7 flavors of Dulce de Leche ice cream AND air conditioning. Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
After sampling about half of them, I end up opting for a scoop of the Coconut and Dulce de Leche ice cream, and then caved into my gluttony by adding a scoop of Frutas del Bosque ice cream on top. Frutas del Bosque is another delightful phenomenon that every Spanish-speaking country I’ve been to seems to embrace wholeheartedly. Our closest equivalent in the English-speaking world is what we call “Mixed Berry”–very unpoetic and never catches my eye. But “Fruits of the Forest” (the literal translation) is always somehow irresistible to me. Go figure.
Once we finished up our ice cream, the town was starting to come out of its collective lethargy. So, as is customary on all trips, I bought postcards to send to my long-suffering correspondents. I say long-suffering, as my handwriting has evolved over my lifetime to a minuscule, cramped cursive, and, particularly with the wear and tear of travelling across mail systems, can be difficult to decipher when delivered.
From there, one of the most educational moments of the day occurred when we tracked down the mysterious Man in the Red Shirt that had made vague money-changing noises at me during our ice cream quest. He took us down an alley and into his shop, and changed our dollars to pesos at a 1:14 rate. This was instead of the official rate at the time, which was 1:10. In case you were wondering, the hotel’s exchange rate had been 1:7, which even the concierge who would have completed the transaction had warned us was laughably terrible. So, my first experience leveraging a black market was as positive as it was unintentional.
My jubilation was almost immediately canceled out by the rapacious cost of stamps–who knew that it cost about $4 to send a postcard back to the States?–and after some light shopping, it was time for dinner.
On Sergio’s recommendation, we then tried Il Fratelli for dinner which offered Argentinian and Italian fare. I opted for steak and Boyfriend opted for gnocchi. I have a weak impression that the food was decent, but the air conditioning broke halfway into the meal so we got out of there as soon as humanly possible. The heat always wins here.
The nightlife was firing up as we drove out of town, but at that time I was much more interested in showering. Maybe old age is beginning to settle in, but, then again, who wouldn’t want blissfully clean toes between clean sheets and the roar of Iguazu Falls in the background of your dreams?