Iguazu falls, on the river Parana at the intersection of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay, are one of the great sights of South America. We had to visit them while we were here. We looked in the guide books and travel agents and it was all looking expensive and difficult until we struck gold. A package holiday. Bollocks to traaaaaveling, this is the way to get to know a country. We booked an all inclusive 6 day trip for 55 quid!
"Fredo", our technicolour Business Class bus was waiting for us at the YPF gas station at 9am on Sunday morning. There were lots of second honeymoon types looming around, mmm, maybe this is a saga holiday. We had a coffee and tried to keep a low profile but Marina, our loud and fat tour guide rumbled us. We went from salty sea dogs to being the comedy foreigners with "no espanol" immediately. All the "tricolor/Deutsch Heute/etc" jokes rolled out "how do you do?", "my name is Marina", "wie komme ich am besten zum Bahnhof" "le singe est dans l'arbre" ok not really. We set off and Marina came around and kissed everyone hello. Then the "whatīs your name and where dīyou come from" bit on the microphone. Chris valiantly spoke for the three of us. We realised the full implications of what we had got into when friendo got up with his guitar and went to the front to kick off the evening open mike session. Bog, I knew what was coming, "inglesi, inglesi". Chris and Nell were lightening quick to expose "Parky the choral scholar". So i went up and befitting a tacky package holiday did my best MacCa impression with "yesterday". Actually, they loved it and i got two rounds of "Braaaavo, Bravo, Bravo, Bravissimo, Bravo" A few greasy roadside cafes, a shoddy mine selling shoddy crystals and a fairly interesting Jesuit mission later, we arrived at our cheap 3 star hotel. Piss in the pool, garden chairs in the bar and boarding school food , but not bad all the same. Chris passed out immediately having taken one valium too many for the bus journey.
Fredo picked us up at 8am the next morning for the first of our sightseeing tours. First to Brazil to see the Brazilian side of the falls. Absolutely amazing, Niagara eat your heart out. The best bit was the boat trip. A very cool Brazilian dude in shades drove the 300 bhp rib far too fast over rapids, and having given us a few photo oportunities (lots of new photos at http://www.traveljournals.net/parky), just drove us straight into the falls. After each soaking he asked, "mas agua?", "si, si", and we got ducked again. wicked. Day 2 was far more tame. A walk around the Argentinain side, looking down over the falls, trying to resist the urge to jump. It poured with rain so we went back to the hotel to dress up for the "traditional brazilian entertainment evening". The unthinkable happened, Butlins met New College bop. 6 busloads of tourists turned up to a big hall. The cheesy band started playing and the compare came on in a shiny suit. They played a song for each nationality there. Everyone cheered in turn, Viva espagne, chile! chile! chile! oi! oi! oi! , Arrr-gen-tiiiinaaa!, then the cubans etc. and oh.. inglesi. So they played a lame Beatles number that nobody knew. The three of us stood up, wey-hey, silence. The entertainment was a politically incorrect as possible, sexy girls in bikinis waving their breasts in the fat menīs faces, a history of brazil in dance with girls dressed as red indians going "oh-ah-oh-ah-oh-ah". It was topped off by an amazing capueira display with more back flips than i have ever seen and a guy sliding accross the whole room on his head. And then the bop. Jive bunny and the master remix are alive and well in this part of the world, and they know all the words to La Bamba, obviously. Returned to the hotel drenched in sweat.
On the last night, after another day at the falls we went out with our new argentinian tredy friends for some valentines day clubbing. Great but nothing opens till 2am, so you have to wait for ages and are obviously drunk before you get there. Spent a happy 5 hours showing the south americans how to dance to MC Hammer. Woke up in hotel, oh shit, still drunk, bus leaves at 8, donīt know what time it is and havenīt packed. Memories of choir tour came flooding back, any moment the phone would ring and Edward Higginbottem would be on the other end, "2 minutes Parkinson, donīt waste my time."
Well we survived the 28 hours back to mar del plata with new friends and invitations to go clubbing (more latino pop) and to have a traditional argentinian asado (BBQ). Chris even had a secret admirer. And to think we could have sat in the lonely planet bar talking about the difference between England and Australia.
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