words from the world

To content | To menu | To search

Keyword - South America -

Entries feed

Friday 7 December 2007

when the water meets the void at Iguazu

20 hours by bus, we spend our time as we can, we sleep a lot, we chat, we passively watch the unexciting movies broadcasted on the screens of the bus and we count the hours. I finally arrive the next day in the morning at Puerto Iguazu, a small village whose prosperity is due to the proximity of the eponymous waterfalls. I live in a hostel which belongs to the Hostelling International network. I take off my bag and put my name down the list of the all-you-can-eat BBQ dinner. Lively evening around the swimming pool and caipirinha a gogo, the hours spent in the bus seem very far. A moment of relaxation before living some intense emotions, tomorrow morning. I'll do this discovery of the waterfalls with Philipp (German) and Maria (Canadian).
8am, we take the "El Practico" public bus and half an hour later we get in the park after paying the fee entrance. Most of the tourists opt for the train to go to the garganta del diablo (the devil's throat) but we prefer the morning serenity of the red earth of the path and its flanking thick forest. Our choice will be rewarded by 2 toucans which, not disposed to meet us, take off dragging their long orange beak into the air. On the path, large ants frenetically move. We wonder if this sort of ants must still be classified in the insect family when their body goes beyond 2 centimeters long! Giant lizards wriggle through the bushes and from time to time the railway track.


IMG_1146.JPG
IMG_1216.JPG
IMG_1224.JPG
IMG_1234.JPG
IMG_1242.JPG
We finally leave the muddy path to walk on a one-kilometer-long footbridge which snakes up to the waterfalls. Our steps get closer and the noise gets louder. The pontoon ends into a circular platform, a zoom as a sound background. The serene upstream water panics and suddenly dips into the abyss. uncontrollable fury of cubic meters of water which disappear into the lair. A cloud of steam hides the bottom and gives to the waterfalls an endless sensation. The water jumps into the void, an aquatic roar evaporates from the fog. Ears and eyes disconnect to store the anger of the nature, this raw beauty that sticks us to the guardrail. Or how an apocalyptic scenery gets us right there, overwhelms us with indescribable emotions. And among that, we must tell us there will be inevitably an end because from this sudden passion, born on a metallic platform, we must unfortunately stick off and leave. As we walk further, we have withdrawal symptoms, this need to walk backwards to inject a dose again but the day is still long and the park still keeps us great surprises.


IMG_1152.JPG
IMG_1160.JPG
IMG_1164.JPG
IMG_1175.JPG
IMG_1188.JPG
IMG_1189.JPG
IMG_1193.JPG
IMG_1204.JPG
IMG_1206.JPG
The discovery path of the waterfalls is a hide-and-seek with the water and the nature. We pass from an overview to a close view, from a wide-angle to a low-angle shot. We see some coatis which play among the branches. We drag our feet to lenghten the path a little bit. We don't definitely grow tired of this water in distress. The movie is a perpetual loop of water molecules in motion captured by the terrestrial gravity. And even if we know the mere and tragical screenplay relating the life of these agglutinated water drops, we stay faithful spectators, leaning on the handrail.

IMG_1249.JPG
IMG_1250.JPG
IMG_1260.JPG
IMG_1265.JPG
IMG_1269.JPG
IMG_1272.JPG
IMG_1279.JPG
IMG_1296.JPG
IMG_1297.JPG
IMG_1304.JPG
IMG_1314.JPG
IMG_1320.JPG
IMG_1322.JPG
IMG_1324.JPG
At the end of the day, we stroll on a remote path of the park. The route is silent and ends to a waterfall, another one. At the bottom of it, a tiny lake. Compulsory swimming for everybody.

IMG_1332.JPG
IMG_1338.JPG
IMG_1348.JPG
IMG_1354.JPG
We didn't finish with the waterfalls and we don't want to. The next day, a shuttle leaves the hostel to go to the Brazilian side. We form a superb international group and we get on like a house on fire. the journey lasts half an hour including the administrative formalities since no visa is needed to go to Brazil. The Portuguese takes the place of the Spanish on the signs alongside the road. At the entrance of the park, a bus shuttles up to the pedestrian way where all the team gets off.
The view of the waterfalls from the Brazilian side is actually complementary from our yesterday visit. The stroll offers us a breathtaking panoramic view. The water leaks from all the sides of the cliff. From a unique river, the water splits into multiple arms which, as a parasite plant creeps, invades the rock and submerges it. Like the Argentinian side, a footbridge extends the visit close to the waterfalls. Deafening symphony of this falling water, we are soaked by the spray. We slowly go back on the path to finish with an elevator which gives us an even more air viewpoint of the waterfalls. Last moments of a magical discovery we appreciate up to the last drop.

IMG_1355.JPG
IMG_1358.JPG
IMG_1380.JPG
IMG_1382.JPG
IMG_1387.JPG
IMG_1389.JPG
IMG_1395.JPG
IMG_1397.JPG
IMG_1398.JPG
IMG_1404.JPG
IMG_1411.JPG
IMG_1413.JPG
IMG_1416.JPG

Tuesday 4 December 2007

In the sweet Argentinian capital city

I arrive in Argentina with a few clichés in my mind: football, tango and meat. My first steps in Buenos Aires will prove me that a trip in Argentina is not only these 3 words.
However, it's true that here, the football is a religion and Diego Maradona is a legend. As such, I quickly learned I didn't have to say his name and it was better to call him "El Diego". It's true as well that a part of Buenos Aires lives at the rate of the milongas where we can watch or learn how to dance the Argentinian tango. A sensual and complex dance. It's still true we can enjoy a thick steak which covers the three-quarters of the plate without paying out more than 5 euros. But it's not for these clichés we like Buenos Aires but for its lively, fiesta-like and epicurean atmosphere. For its smiling and warm-hearted inhabitants. I don't really like the cities in general but I like Buenos Aires.
During an afternoon, I go to the Bombonera stadium to share the deep passion of the Boca Juniors supporters. A seething atmosphere where the bleachers tremble and the singings resound.

IMG_1081.JPG
IMG_1098.JPG
IMG_1100.JPG
IMG_1103.JPG
IMG_1106.JPG
IMG_1114.JPG
I wander about the San Telmo and Micro Centro districts where European architecture and rushing people match. I escape a little bit further for a colourful stroll in the "El caminito" symbolic street of the Boca district. An extract of Argentinian culture.

IMG_1119.JPG
IMG_1122.JPG
IMG_1124.JPG
IMG_1126.JPG
IMG_1129.JPG
IMG_1136.JPG
IMG_1137.JPG
IMG_1142.JPG
Waiting for heading to the Iguazu falls, in the northeast of the country, I go to enjoy a savoury steak in a black pepper sauce. A necessary fill-up of proteins to intensely live a 20-h bus trip.

page 2 of 2 -