All Hail the Semi-Cama...
Dear Readers,
We're coming atcha today from the very tip of north-east Argentina, in the town of Puerto Iguacu. This is the jumping off point for the mighty Iguacu Falls, but more about that later. I thought I'd split this into two posts, so for now we're going to cover our travels from NZ up to here.
For our last few days in Auckland, we were graciously hosted by the lovely Tom and Kerryn, and their butler Cricket. Better hospitality could not be bought for gold, and promise to repay the favour with everything I learn about cooking meat on this trip. After drawing out our farewells (a skill those of you in London will attest I got down to a fine art) we made our way out to the airport to fly with Argentina's national carrier, Aerolineas Argentinas. Not the newest plane I've ever been on, but it was, ahem, 'fit for purpose' and safely delivered us to Buenos Aires where we cashed up and made our way to the hostel. BA greeted us with some pretty chilly and wet weather, and we spent a couple of days taking the place in.
After a little walking tour to see what we could learn about the history, we had a wet wander around Recoletta Cemetary. Not a cemetary in the sense we're used to, but a mini-city of personal mausoleums in endless styles, sizes, and states of disrepair. This was a mad place, the only full time occupants being huge families of the deceased, and large numbers of cats. We followed the crowds to Eva Peron's digs, which is a modest little black marble number tucked down a side street. There's a steady crowd of people there, and it's well decorated with flowers and tributes. They seem to add another plaque every few years, so the whole thing is covered with them.
It'd be remiss of me not to also pay tribute to Ana's espanol, which is the only reason we are fed and housed for now. I'm trying desperately to pick up what I can, but keep segueing into Japanese as soon as my concentration lapses, leading to confusing looks when I bring forth such weird sentences as "si, la cuenta onegaishimasu". She's doing a bang-up job and I'm doing my best to keep up.
Being Argentina, it was only a short while before we decided to attack some serious meat. I just have to show a pic of this steak that Ana ordered. Seriously, I've slept on smaller surfaces than this. Note particularly the lack of vegetables or garnish. In part due to a lack of the lingo, a newbie's fear of uncooked veges, and in part the steak and chips nature of the particular places we've been dining, we might be getting a little short of vitamins. If anyone can advise of the first signs of scurvy then please do. Needless to say there is a LOT of ham and cheese being eaten for now. I no complain... After a few nights in Buenos Aires it was quickly decided that cities aren't really for us and we made the recommended trip over the Rio Plata to Colonia de Sacramento in Uruguay (no, you're a Guay).
This little town is outrageously cute; cobbled streets littled with quietly rusting Model A Fords, whitewashed little houses, old cannons outside the museum, and a lovely little lighthouse on the point. We spent a great day wandering around, eating cheese, and avoiding the numerous dogs - all extremely enthusiastic about chasing cars, but too skillful for this to pastime to reduce their numbers. We took in the local museums, my favourite being the Museo de Nationale which seems to have a bit of an identity crisis, as it was crammed with old pistols, stuffed birds, insects and butterflies, paintings, a giant ships rudder, and an enormous fully assembled fossilised dinosaur.
We hopped town the next day and made for Montevideo. I don't know who recommended this town (Mr Wanderlust, step up please?) but can't say it ranks on my top five. Don't be confused by the enticing similarity with Monte Carlo, they are very estranged twins. Obsessed with Cambios (Bureaus de Change), and with an Old Town still more Old than Town, the highlight was the tomb of General Artegas, who's the local go-to guy if you need your country liberated.
The next step was our first really long overland quest, 6 hours from Montevideo to Salto. We were lucky enough to keep our momentum and get a bus over the natural river border with Argentina to reenter at Concordia, where with a stamp to get us back in we booked our onward passage - 13 hours to Puerto Iguacu. We killed a couple of hours with the guitarist from this band, and boarded the midnight bus after flagging it down on the highway thanks to our friendly coin-collecting cab driver. Now, I had heard good things about the buses here, but don't think I'd really paid full attention. I was ushered down to the back of the bus (we had separate seats due to a late booking), quietly making my way past an entire top floor of snoring folk, and laid myself into my semi-cama (one step down from a full 180 degree reclining bus seat). I thought I might get myself sorted then pop down to wish Ana goodnight, but after just, ahhhh, leaning back, ooo a little blanket might be nice, mmmm there's a footrest, hmmmm might close my eyes for just a second, and next thing I knew it was 7am! Really, these buses are nonsensically comfortable. When making the trip between NZ and UK (24hrs at least) I'm pretty happy to get an hour's sleep on each of the two legs - me no do sleeping on planes - but to rack up 7 solid hours on a bus is a personal best.
The next few hours were a doddle, we were served breakfast in our seats (coffee=very sweet) and rolled into Puerto Iguacu just before lunchtime. This is my kind of place, it's got a nice feel, lots of little restaurants, a really good bus station for the onward journey, and we're all set for the trip to the falls.
One week down, innumberable jamon y queso toasted sandwiches consumed, no bites (as yet), and only one spanish language cover of a popular song (Somebody to Love, it's teh awesome). I'll work on increasing the latter. Cheers for the comments on the last post, and next stop is the monster falls...
A
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