That's all, folks

Now that I'm home, that will be the end of this blog. I could continue writing about my daily life in Mill Hall, but I think I would get bored writing it, let alone reading it.

I honestly thought no one would still be reading after week 3, so thank you to those of you who are still with me. Also thanks to everyone for your thoughts, prayers, letters, postcards, care packages, email, and happy mail that got me through one incredible experience.

I'm still uploading photos from the end of my travels. I'll also be tweaking some of my previous photos, now that I have that kind of technology.

Muchas gracias and haste luege.

South America: In Retrospect

I'm not quite sure how to sum up the last 9 months in one post, but I'm going to try. I know I'll think of other things to add long after I publish this post. But where to begin?

9 months and 6 countries. My passport is very nearly full. Only one page left. There are not many things more satisfying than a customs official searching through your passport, looking for a blank space to place his mark. But I collected so much more than stamps in a passport.

I learned more in these last 9 months than I ever have. I learned that some vegetables are not all bad, but that guinea pig definitely is. I learned alpaca burgers are one delicious meat, and that Argentines and Uruguayans know beef better than anyone else. I kind of learned the difference between ser and estar, but I never did figure out when to use por and para. I just pick one. I learned the real reason why you use "much" and not "many" and vice versa, as well as when to use the present perfect instead of the simple past tense. I learned how to salsa, but only kind of how to tango. And much, much more.

I also met more people this year than any previous years. I met some funny people, I met boring people, I met people I wish I hadn't, I met people I couldn't have lived without, I met people I forgot about the next day, I met people I won't ever forget.

People have been asking me what my favorite place I visited was, and I don't know how on earth I'm supposed to pick one. Of the countries I visited, I am and always will be the most loyal to Peru; it was my home for 6 months. One of these countries, Bolivia, is sadly on the brink of Civil War. The Peace Corps has gone so far as to evacuate all their workers. Lucky I got there when I did. Instead of picking one favorite, why don't I make a "best of" and "worst of" list. It's what everyone else does at the end of the year, so I'll do it for the end of my trip.

Best experience: teaching
Best flag: Cusco
Worst accent: Chile, I can't understand a word anyone said.
Best food: Argentina, no contest.
Worst meal: Cuy, no contest.
Best Amazing Race moment: Random Peruvian woman racing Peter and I to the bank.
Worst roommate: Templeton
Best Hike: The Inca Trail, obviously.
Best Island: Easter
Worst Name: Um, Hitler anyone?
Best Natural Wonder: This is a tough call. How do you choose between the Amazon, Lake Titicaca, and Iguazu Falls? I think I have to give it to Iguazu in a nail-biter, if only for the rainbows.
Best Moment Involving a Piece of Fruit: Feeding a banana to a monkey in the Amazon.
Worst Moment Involving a Piece of Fruit: Laying a banana peel out on the beach of Easter Island as a diversion for the flies. That was kinda gross.
Best weekend trip: Mindo, in Ecuador
Worst bus ride: Tres Cruces back to Cusco. Thought for sure I would lose my lunch.
Best dance: Salsa.
Best city: Buenos Aires

Since I've been home, I've had a few adjustments to make. I wouldn't think I would ever have to adjust to the ability to throw toilet paper in the toilet, and yet, that's been one of the hardest things to remember. It's also a bizarre thing to hear English conversations happening around me, as well as speaking English to waiters or store clerks. I have to stop myself from kissing people on the cheek when I see them so as not to seem alien. Shaking hands seems so stuffy.

What are the chances that I will go abroad for an extended period of time again? Very, very good.

The long, long, long journey home

I arrived at the airport on Thursday morning just after 4am, having not been to bed yet. I can honestly say that was a day I was not at all looking forward to. Not because I didn't want to go, but because of how long it was going to take to get there. On Tuesday night, I had had a dream where Holli showed up in Buenos Aires to give me my birthday gift- a copy of Stephenie Meyers' Breaking Dawn, which I have been dying to get my hands on- so that I would have something awesome to read while I sat and sat and sat on airplanes and airports and more airplanes and airports. Sadly, this did not happen in real life. Instead, I found a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on the book exchange shelf in the hostel. I know I've already read it twice, but it's big and fat and downright entertaining.

When I arrived in Lima, I was happy to discover that my Spanish had improved just by changing location. I had a 50 sole note in my wallet, so I headed to a gift shop to use it up. I had no problems communicating with the store clerk, who kept adding up my purchases and telling me what else I could get with my leftover soles. He even told me my Spanish was very good and asked had I been in Peru long? Ha. You have no idea.

Then I flew to San Jose, Costa Rica, where I waited an excruciating 6 hours. Actually, I was thinking that it didn't seem so bad, until I got to those last 2 hours. Then I wasn't really sure if I could take it anymore. But Harry got me through, and I boarded the plane without losing my head.

I got extremely lucky on my last flight. I was the only one in my row of three seats, so as soon as I ate my meal, I stretched out across all three seats and actually managed to get some sleep.

The plane landed on time at 2:30am. True to reputation, everyone in the New York airport was rude to me. I didn't want to be there at 3am either, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Things improved drastically when I got to Alison's apartment. She had an air mattress all ready for me.

I spent Friday in Manhattan. My first stop was Serendipity's for a Frozen Hot Chocolate. The most amusing part of my day was when the woman at the table next to me asked the bus boy "Isn't this supposed to be hot?" The bus boy looked at her as if she had three heads and just walked away. She kept asking this question to her friend/sister/traveling partner, who was wearing a matching pink jogging suit, so I decided to speak up. I asked her if she had ordered the hot chocolate or the frozen hot chocolate, and she replied that she had ordered the frozen variety.
"Right," I said, "It's frozen."
"But why do they call it a hot chocolate? This is just a milkshake."
"No, there's no ice cream in it. It's a hot chocolate with ice."
"Well, I don't understand why it's called a hot chocolate."
"Have you ever heard of an iced coffee? It's like that, only way better."
"Oh."

Then the waiter appeared. "Isn't this supposed to be hot?," she asked him. Like talking to a wall.

Around 6:00, my parents showed up, and we went to dinner at a German restaurant in Brooklyn with Sajan and Alison. We finally arrived in Mill Hall just after midnight. After sleeping on bad mattresses with bad pillows and buses for 9 months, my bed felt amazing. I'm pretty sure it's the Most Comfortable Bed in the World.

The Finale

Like I said, Wednesday was my last day in South America, and my birthday, which meant I called the shots. First off, Maribeth and I headed to the Latin American Museum of Art, since it was a free day. We had stopped in on Monday, but didn't feel like paying 15 pesos ($5) to tour, which turned out to be a really good decision. First of all, the museum didn't have all that much in it. Second, what was there was mostly modern art, a genre that neither of us care for. As Maribeth says, art should be something that not everybody can do. I can paint a canvas solid red if I wanted to, but why would I? This exhibit was particularly bad. The artist seemed to be a sugar addict who can't clean up after himself. In one corner was a pile of lollipops. Genius. An entire room was devoted to pieces of candy lying on the floor in a rectangle shape. We both managed to take pictures (which I swear I'll get around to putting up) before a man came over and told us that pictures were strictly forbidden. I'm pretty sure the whole thing is one big joke.

Afterwards, we went to a much more interesting museum devoted to Eva Peron. Everything I knew about Evita prior to this I learned from Madonna, so it was good to get a bit more background information. Then, of course, I had to go back and eat The World's Greatest Pizza for the third time during my stay.

In the evening, Maribeth and I went out for a steak dinner, courtesy of Maribeth as a birthday gift, accompanied by a few people from our hostel. We split a steak, since they serve you practically half a cow, but boy was it tasty. Following dinner, I finally got to go to my tango show. The show was fantastic. The dancers make everything look so easy, but after taking a few lessons, I know just how hard it is. The show also included more traditional song and dance. Towards the end, the stage darkened, and a spotlight went up over a balcony off to the side. On the balcony, a woman who looked and sounded an awful lot like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle, began belting out a rousing rendition of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" in Spanish. Pure camp. It was great. Maribeth kept hitting me, due to the fact that I couldn't stop giggling. When we got back to the hostel, Fredrick from Sweden made everyone sing Happy Birthday to me, in Spanish. I don't like being sung to. It's really just awkward for everyone involved, but I survived.

The show ended at 11:30, which meant I had 4 hours until it was time to leave for the airport. I certainly wasn't going to bother with sleep, since I would be so paranoid about oversleeping that I would never actually fall asleep, so Maribeth, Marc from Wales, and I played several rounds of UNO before heading to a pub for a late night snack. When we returned, it was time for me to finish packing up all my stuff.

Birthday Madness

This is it. My last day in South America. It´s also my birthday. I think it´s appropriate that my last day here is my birthday. 25 was a really, really good year for me. Best ever.

I can´t believe it´s over, but I know it´s time. The other day I took a picture of myself in front of the Casa Rosada, and when I looked at it, I couldn´t believe how tired I looked.

But first, there is fun to be had. I´m so glad Maribeth was able to meet up with me here in BA. We´ve had a super fun and exciting past couple of days- year, really. She´s been busy telling everyone else here at the hostel that it´s my birthday, so I think we´ll have some good company tonight. The next 48 hours will be crazy. Here´s the rundown.

• Museums, since Wednesday is free admission day
• Shopping
• Steak dinner
• Tango show
• Staying awake until it´s time to go to the airport, which will be around 3:30 in the morning- an early evening in this town
• Flying from Buenos Aires to Lima
• Flying from Lima to San Jose, Costa Rica
• Spending a whopping 6 hours in San Jose
• Flying from San Jose to JFK in New York
• Arriving in NYC at 2:30am
• Taking a taxi to Alison´s apartment in Brooklyn, where she has so wonderfully agreed to let me crash. Thanks bunches, and to Sajan too.
• Killing time in NYC- not too hard to do
• Driving back to Mill Hall Friday night
  

Whew. I think I´m too old for this.

A Night at the Opera

There was no need to worry about dressing appropriately for the opera. It was certainly not a black tie event. First of all, the show started at 6pm, practically a matinee, especially in this town where dinner isn´t until 10pm, and the nightclubs don´t get going until 2am.

We sat practically in the rafters, but that didn´t really matter. The show was in French. I was surprised to see that they had Spanish subtitles on a screen above the stage. I found them a bit distracting, so I pretty much ignored them. The gist of the show was that Agamemmnon- the daughter of Oedipus if I remember correctly from my Biblical and Classical Literature class in college- was very, very sad because her whole family was dead. Unbeknownst to her, she had a brother in jail. Just as she was about to execute her brother, she realized he was her brother and they hugged. Everyone lived happily ever after. Or something like that. When it was all over, there was the world´s longest curtain call. It was as if they didn´t really know how to do a curtain call, all looking at one another for when they should bow, and pulling people out of the wings. But despite the finale awkwardness, it was a delightful evening at the opera.

Like a Chameleon

While in Peru, I stood out as a gringa. Everyone knew that I wasn´t a local. In Chile, I blended in a lot more. In Argentina, everyone assumes I´m a local. I look more like a local than the locals do. All I need is a cigarette in one hand and a mate in the other, and I´m set. How do I know this? Because everyone asks me for directions. At least once a day, sometimes more. The other day, I was asked for directions twice in 20 minutes while waiting to meet someone. While waiting for Maribeth to change money on Saturday, a woman walked up to me and asked, ¿Vives aca? Do you live here? You´d think walking around with a pale blond English girl would give it away that I am not, in fact, a local, but even with Maribeth around, I´m still being asked for directions. And they go straight for me, while ignoring her. I usually just give them a blank look and say No se.

In other observations, Argentinians smoke more than you can possibly imagine. They also really really like their sweets. I can´t find a decent grocery store, but there are entire stores full of sweets all over the place. Argentina has the highest rate of eating disorders- or so I´ve heard- in the world, I guess because it´s all sugar and smoking.

Reunited

Good news: my second and third tango lessons were much more successful than the first. I´m almost ready to start dancing in the street for donations in a hat.

Yesterday morning, Maribeth arrived for a reunion of girls who prefer i´s to y´s. Quite nice to have a friend again, although without Ashley we´re not quite complete. We went into the city center yesterday to look into tickets at the Teatro Colón, a very famous theater here in BA. When we got there, however, we found out that the theater is closed for renovations for the next two years. This has been a disturbing trend in my travels. I was also unable to tour the Casa Rosada- presidential residence- due to renovations as well. I guess I´ll just have to come back in a few years. We stopped at another theater to look at what was happening there. There appeared to be an opera performance tonight, so we bought tickets in the nose bleed section. When we got back to the hostel, we googled it, and found out that it is indeed an opera. Iphigénie en Tauride, a french opera based on a Greek tragedy. I´m predicting everyone will end up dead in the end. I´m hoping we´re not expected to wear anything fancy. I had an image of arriving in my only skirt and hiking boots. Jeans will have to do.

This morning we wandered around San Telmo, the neighborhood I´m calling home during my stay. There is a huge antiques market on Sundays, so we walked around, admiring all the old telephones, cameras, gramophones, etc. and watching street tango performances. Then we hoofed it down to the La Boca neighborhood, a very colorful- literally- barrio south of San Telmo. All the buildings are brightly painted, and artists sell their creations on the street. It´s a very fun and cheerful neighborhood. Unfortunately, the areas beyond the beaten path are very dangerous.

And now, it´s off to the opera...

Deliciousness

Normally, while traveling, I don´t pay much attention to food. I forget about it really, as I´m too busy to sit down and have a meal, then I just cook myself some pasta or something in the hostel kitchen to save money. In Buenos Aires, it´s hard to forget about the food. It´s an attraction on it´s own. The steaks, the pizza, the ice cream... it´s all good. So instead of fighting it, I´m just going to enjoy it. I have 6 days left. I´m officially on vacation. They may have to roll me onto the airplane, but who cares? Argentina is no place for calorie counting.

T-A-N-G-O

Last night I went to my first tango lesson. I´m pretty terrible. I say this with the comfort of knowing that when I started with salsa, I was also pretty terrible. But the tango is not salsa.

I pretty much have to be de-programmed from salsa. The instructor kept telling me to stop moving my hips, and everytime I was at a salsa lesson, they kept telling me to move my hips more. I´m not quite sure how it´s possible to keep your mid-section straight, chin up, but to relax your shoulders. I was a bit tense. But I am very, very determined, and therefore, giving it another go tonight.

What's new, Buenos Aires?

Due to popular demand (from my mother) I decided I better update this thing. I'm getting lazy in the last days. The pictures, on the other hand, may just have to wait until I get back.

I've finally made it to Buenos Aires. My last stop. Starting in Quito and ending in Buenos Aires is not too shabby. I arrived yesterday via boat from Colonia, Uruguay. Colonia was built as a Portuguese smuggling port in the 17th century, and it's full of cobblestone streets and cute old buildings. Luckily, I had a much nicer day in Colonia than I had had in Montevideo.

After arriving in BA, I decided to stroll around the center of the city to get a feel for it. I like it. A lot. My hostel is named after Carlos Gardel, the inventor of the tango, and it has a very tango decor. (What is a tango decor? you ask. I don't know, it just is.) During my walk around the city, I grabbed a slice of pizza for lunch. It was, believe it or not, the Best Pizza I've Ever Had. And I have eaten a lot of pizza in my day. Definitely more than the average human being. It's going to be hard to avoid eating that pizza every day I'm here.

While I was walking back to my hostel that evening, I noticed a group of people gathering around something. When I got closer, I realized they were watching dancers. My first tango show! At first, they just seemed to be posing with tourists for photos. Finally, they got around to actually dancing. Now I'm hooked. I must learn how to do that in a week. Later, a police officer growled at me. That was a first.

Today I toured the Recoleta neighborhood. Recoleta is the Beverly Hills or the Upper East Side of BA. It's also where they bury dead people. So naturally my first stop was the Recoleta Cemetery. It's not so much a cemetery, but a small city. It would be very easy to get lost in there, as well as spend hours and hours just taking pictures of all the fancy tombs. I opted not to buy a map, but instead followed the crowd of people in order to find Eva Peron. Sure enough, the largest group of people was standing in front of her grave. I paid my respects to Evita, snapped a few pictures, and wandered around the necropolis for awhile, until I kept asking myself Have I seen this one yet? Didn't I already take a picture of this one? And moved on.

On Saturday, one of my other halves (wait, if there are two others, does that make it a third? I was always bad at fractions) in Cusco, Maribeth, will be arriving. v. v. excited for the reunion.

Staying warm and dry in Montevideo

Weather-wise, Uruguay has been downright miserable. On Friday, I planned to explore Montevideo. It was cold, gray, and sometimes rainy. The kind of day that makes you want to sit inside with a good book on a cozy sofa, but when you´re living in hostels, this isn´t really an option. Besides, how often is one in Uruguay?

On my venture around the city, I stopped in more shops than usual, just to get out of the cold. Or the rain, if that´s what it was doing at the time. Montevideo is a beatiful city, even with a gray background. The architecture makes it look like a stand-in for Gotham City. I wandered in and out of museums and shops and beautiful buildings that seemed to come straight from Europe, including the Theatro Solis, the city´s main theater, and poked around until someone told me to get lost (which no one ever did), so I opened a door and found myself in the theater equivalent of a luxury box. Very fancy theater, could be straight out of Vienna. I found a cafe with some tasty hot chocolate to warm myself up, then spent the evening at the hostel, chatting with the other guests on the rooftop bar, where I learned they were even forecasting SNOW for the next day. This is a very, very unusual cold snap for this region of the world. That´s like predicting snow in Georgia in late March.

It did not, however, snow on Saturday, it just rained a very cold rain all day. I went with a new German friend to Punte del Este, which is THE beach resort in Uruguay in the summer. No, it´s not summer, but we wanted to go anyway. Somehow, she managed to get us a 20% discount on our bus tickets, even though she only asked for 10%. Too bad I can´t keep her around a bit longer. As soon as we got off the bus, we saw the Los Dedos sculpture in the sand. (My picture didn´t turn out that well. No blue sky.) I realized that just two weeks ago, I was dipping my toes in the Pacific, and now here I was, looking out at the Atlantic. My multiple layers of clothing told me that dipping my toes in at this juncture might actually cause them to fall off.

This morning, the sun was actually kinda-sorta out, and it wasn´t as cold as the previous two days, so I went for a walk to take pictures of some things I hadn´t bothered to take pictures of before. When I arrived at the Plaza Independencia, there was a section of the street blocked off. First, I noticed a group of people wrapped in blankets. Then lights. Then cameras. Then a street sign indicating 42nd St. Then a... NYC taxi? In Montevideo? The people in blankets were actors, (dressed for warmer NY weather, I suppose) and they had attempted to make this corner of Montevideo a stand in for New York City. For a movie, for tv, for a Uruguayan telenovella, I have no idea. I stood around and watched for a bit, but not much was happening. I got excited when the actors started shedding their blankets, and a woman pulled out a bullhorn, but then something held them up, and the blankets went on again, and I got bored. The women all wore high heels, the men business suits and overcoats, and they found a few people to make it racially diverse. I kept thinking maybe they would point to me and say "You! American! We need you in this shot!," but I was apparently not meant for Uruguayan stardom. Maybe next time.

Summer to winter in one day

What a difference 24 hours makes. Within one day´s time, I went from needing a cold drink and some air conditioning, to needing hot chocolate and a warm blanket. Let´s back up...

On Tuesday, I went back to the park in Iguazu. There was a short hiking trail I hadn´t had time to do on Sunday, so I set out on that. I got to the park early, and was the first one on the trail. The trail ended at another "hidden" waterfall and pool. Thought about stripping down for a swim, but that was about the time someone else showed up, and I´m too much of a prude American for that. (And we really are prudes, you know.)

Afterwards, I took a boat across about 50 yards of rapidly moving water to an island in front of the falls. It was very, very hot. I got a nice shower from the mist of the falls, which felt good temporarily, but it only made things hotter once I was out of the mist.

When I had seen everything there was to see in the park, I went back to town and hopped a bus to San Ignacio. (See previous post.) I stayed in San Ignacio for the night, then hopped a bus to Posadas, where I could catch a bus to Concordia, where I could cross the border into Uruguay and catch a bus to Montevideo. Whew.

In Posadas, I had about 3 hours to kill before my bus left at 5pm. I decided to go into town and get lunch. According to Lonely Planet, I needed bus 21, so I got on bus 21. Only bus 21 didn´t go into town. It went in the opposite direction. I sat on the bus for the full loop. Luckily, it was a short route. I´m sure the bus driver thought I was an idiot, but he must be kind to idiots, because he gave me a ticket to catch another, more appropriate bus. Which I didn´t end up using, as time was ticking.

I found a paradilla across from the bus terminal. It was so hot, all I wanted was some ice cold water, but I knew that would take a miracle. I ordered a water sin gas, and the menu of the day without really knowing what it was (My, how I´ve changed!). The waiter was obviously some sort of angel, because he brought me a bottle straight from the refrigerator, along with a glass full of ice. I thanked him profusely, then ordered another. The menu del dia turned out to be a salad- with lettuce and everything!- bread, and a load of some sort of really good beef. He even offered me more beef when I had finished, but there was no way I could eat anymore. It was a good thing I ate so much, though, because I left my bag 'o food in a bathroom of the bus terminal. I´m getting sloppy in these final days...

My bus arrived in Concordia, Argentina at 1am. I couldn´t get a bus into Uruguay until 7am, so I took a taxi across the border. My taxi driver, Carlos, was super chatty. He showed me his collection of coins from all over the world. Not places he´s ever been, but from people he has driven in his cab. I didn´t have any American money on me, but I did contribute a few Chilean pesos and Peruvian soles to his collection. He actually offered me Argentine pesos in exchange, but seeing as how I had given him about 62 cents, I didn´t really think it was necessary.

I crossed the border without problems, but the bag inspection was by far the most thorough I´ve been through. The guy actually went through everything with a flashlight, taking everything out, looking through my shoes, my book, my journal, and all the pockets. This did not make me happy, since packing my bag is an exact science, and I didn´t feel like doing it again in the cold of 2am.

The first bus from Salto to Montevideo was at 6:30am, so I spent 4 hours in the middle of the night in a freezing bus station in a hard, plastic chair. It was all very glamorous, I tell you. When my bus finally arrived in Montevideo (an hour and a half late), I was starving, so I headed to the Mercado del Puerto, where they served me half a cow. (and a salad) It was definitely The Best Steak I´ve Ever Had. And that´s not because I was so hungry, it was just that good.

Here in Uruguay, it´s still winter. I went from shorts and a tank top (and hiking boots, I looked like such a backpacker!) to my jacket, scarf, and hat. But at least I don´t look like such a tourist, right?

Lonely Planet vs. Rick

I´ve been meaning to write this post for some time, but then I keep doing things to actually write about.

For this trip, I´m traveling with the aid of Lonely Planet´s South America on a Shoestring. Normally, I would be using Rick Steves, but Rick sticks to Europe, so that´s not really a possibility.
I can´t say enough good things about Rick. Holli and I have had some really really good trips thanks to Rick. He tells you exactly where to go and what to see, and even includes possible itineraries so you know what to see and when. With the exception of our dad of course, we say that he´s the only man that´s never let us down (ahem). He´s that good.

Lonely Planet, on the other hand, is no Rick. Lonely Planet has let me down several times. Take today, for example. I´m in San Ignacio, Argentina. The main attraction here are the ruins from an old Jesuit settlement. According to Lonely Planet, there are "several bizarre museums" as you enter the complex. With several museums to tour and the city worth of ruins, I assumed it would take half a day, maybe more. There were not several bizarre museums, there was one normal, very informative museum, and therefore, the whole thing took an hour and a half. It was still an interesting place to visit, and a good way to break up my trip to Uruguay, but still annoying.

The biggest problem is that Lonely Planet casts their nets a bit too wide. They publish guides for every place on the planet. Since Rick stays in Europe, everything´s more carefully researched and more recently published. My problem with Lonely Planet is also that everything´s out of date. I have the most recent book, but it´s several years old already. In Santiago, I was wandering around, looking for an English bookstore mentioned in LP. I heard two men speaking English at a cafe table, so I asked them if they knew of it. They told me it no longer existed. Turns out, one guy had spent that whole morning looking for it, while the other, who had been living there for awhile, said he tried to find it a whole year ago and couldn´t. Good thing I ran into them. It saved me a lot of Lonely Planet-induced frustration.

I miss Rick...

Poor Niagara

I feel sorry for Niagara Falls. They don´t stand a chance next to their South American counterpart, Iguazu. Iguazu makes Niagra look a bit like a leaky faucet.

When I got to town yesterday, I decided to head over to the Falls around noon, which proved to be a good move. You can spend a lot of time at that park. For some reason, something about the park reminded me a bit of Disney World. Maybe it was taking the shuttle from town, and then taking a small train to get around (because it´s that big), or all the families and strollers and the expensive food. Either way, that really didn´t diminish what I was seeing at all.

The first thing I did was take the train to the far end of the park. From there, I walked along a series of catwalks over the Rio Iguazu to the viewing point of The Devil´s Throat. I was pretty stunned at the sheer volume of water. It wasn´t even possible to see the bottom, due to all the mist being sprayed up by the falls, which also got me pretty wet. No wonder they were selling ponchos all over the place.

Afterwards I hiked two other trails to see more falls. I got really really wet in one spot, and saw lots and lots of rainbows. And thus took lots and lots of pictures.

This morning, I decided to do a little adventuring. I hiked, I climbed rocks, I zip-lined across the canopy, I climbed a squirmy rope ladder, I zip-lined across the canopy again, then repelled back down the rocks. It was pretty cool. To get back to town, we took a boat down the river. From the river, we entered the waters of both Brazil and Paraguay. If you´re wondering why I´m not going to the Brazilian side to see the falls from there, it´s because of all the stupid and very expensive visa regulations. Same thing with Paraguay, although not nearly as expensive as Brazil, I´d rather spend extra time here and in Buenos Aires. But I guess I can say I´ve been in them, just haven´t actually set foot in them. I don´t think that makes much sense.