Iguacu Falls

We arrived in Foz do Iguacu after a particularly poor overnight coach journey. Basically, if the fella in front wants to recline fully (which he cleary did), then you find yourself in a bit of a straightjacket-type scenario, only slightly less comfortable.
Three different bus journeys to the Hostel in commuter rush hour, standing all the way, wasn´t exactly ideal either, especially as we were embarrasingly kicking up a little (hey, it had been a long day), but not quite as much as the large Brazilian man next to us however who had clearly neglected to freshen up before work.

Finally, we reached our Hostel (The Paudimar) and were pleasantly surprised to find a nice holiday camp style vibe going on. Nice little chalets with outdoor hammocks, a footy pitch, lovely gardens, and a swimming pool with accompanying bar. Sort of like Butlins, but without the knife-wielding teenagers and extortionate beer prices. Two nights for 25 quid - bargain. A lazy day around the pool was much called for, and luckily the sun had kept his hat on. It wasn´t quite what we´d missed out on at the Copacobana, but it did the job, and has helped us look a little less transparent.

Suitably refreshed, the next day we took a tour to the Argentinian side of the falls. A few others from our hostel had also booked this tour; namely four girls from France, two French speaking Canadian girls, and a German girl. All the French girls tried exceptionally hard to say only ´Euurgh?´ every time anyone spoke to them, and by all accounts, had been working hard on perfecing their collective ´smacked a*se´ look for some time. The German girl however seemed nice, and was equally displeased with the company, and so at the first opportunity we left them to do our own thing.

Despite the dry conditions currently being inflicted on this part of the world, the falls were an amazing sight. They usually receive 2000mm of rainfall every year, yet up until now, they´ve only had 400mm (so the guide said anyway - we haven´t been self-initiated enough to check the stats ourselves). This means that many of the smaller falls are non-existent, but the main cascade at the 'Devil's Throat' was still raging strong. We could have stood watching them close-up for hours, so apologies if many of our photos are of the falls. They were truly mesmerising, and we doubt that they will truly convey how it felt to stand next to them.

We also took a speedboat tour up the river. Although a good ride, the water levels meant that we could only get within 500 metres of the main falls, whereas usually they take you within 50 metres. The guide was kind enough to show us a photo of "what we could have won", for the same price, a year ago. That went down a treat with the paying crowd as you can imagine. Generally though, a great day out, some beautiful sights to behold, and a highly recommended excursion.

For our last day in Iguacu we went into the town for a mooch and a decent meal before our nine hour coach ride back to Curitiba. The guidebook recommended ´Buffalo Branco´ and so we made our way there. Within seconds of being seated we were presented with Chicken Thighs straight from the skewer and told to help ourselves to the extensive looking salad bar. On returning to our table some Rice, Fries, Breaded Bananas (random) and a selection of breads appeared during roughly our second mouthful of salad. Something reminiscent of a 10oz Sirloin was presented two minutes later. Soon followed by a Filet Mignon or two. Then a lump of tasty Roast Pork. A little Lamb. More Beef Steak. Sausage. More Chicken. Pork Rib meat. A spot more Beef for good measure. Cooked Pineapple (Random again). After approx 15 minutes we could have started a farm. We soon realised that the waiter would happily see us die at the table, and wasn´t going to stop until we called a halt to proceedings. This was an effort in itself by this point. Unfortunately the bulls testicles that the guidebook had promised didn´t surface. We´d saved room especially too - shame.

Dessert was an option too, but we just couldn´t do it. As it turned out, the waiter was just finishing his shift, and was hanging out so desperately for his 10% tip that the bill was shoved promptly under our nose before we´d finished our hastily delivered coffee. On a different night, this 25 quid extravaganza of grub could have been great - dished up at a slower pace, the lovely food would have gone down a treat, but all we wanted to do was chunder, sleep and use the loo. Any particular order would have done. The ensuing coach ride was a pleasant and warm experience for everyone that night...

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