First Four Weeks

Have been meaning to post something for a while, but this is the first time I´ve had relatively unlimited access to the internet. So here goes...

It already feels like a long time since I arrived in Buenos Aires, nearly four weeks ago. After a few days exploring the city I headed up to Gualegauychu for South America´s 3rd biggest carneval; then hitchhiked from there up to Puerto Iguazu with a Danish girl (Nikkoline) to visit the waterfalls. Our stay for nearly a week at a wonderfully bohemian campsite (on which more below) also saw me daytrip into Brazil to geek out at the world´s (now second-, behind China´s Three Gorges) biggest dam at Itaipú.  Having passed tantalisingly close to the Jesuit missions that give Misiones province its name, I was intrigued enough to want to visit on the way back. We therefore visited San Ignacio, before crossing into Paraguay to take in further ruins, as well as another carnaval. Having returned to Posadas in Argentina we split up, and I arrived in Santa Fe by myself on Monday to spend a few days chilling out a bit and explore the city.

Obligatory "hell yeah, we made it" photo

What I´ve Learnt So Far


1) It´s HOT. In Jan/Feb :)
2) Possibly enhanced by L1, the ice cream in Argentina tastes GOOD (as does the crap beer on offer, definitely due to L1). Italian heritage combined with Argentines´ ridiculously sweet teeth mean that seemingly every main street contains a heladeria to provide welcome respite from the Sun.
3) Probably also enhanced by L1; an Argentinian kilometre, when directed towards a main road, is a bloody long way. I thought that we Brits were notorious for understatement, but it´s lost some of its charm by the time you finally arrive at a suitable spot to solicit a ride. And then have to stagger on further to find some 30deg shade. Not that I´d ever complain about the heat...
4) Viajar con el gordo. A delightful euphemism for hitchhiking. Lit. "to travel with the fat one".
5) Un pocito mas castellano.
The first lesson was that I wasn´t going to learn any español on my travels: the people here speak instead the 16th century Castilian dialect introduced by the conquistadors, and referred to as castellano. Progress will hopefully pick up pace now that I´m back on my own. Travelling with Nikkoline, a fluent Spanish speaker (and not wanting to frustrate too many drivers with my broken, nay eviscerated, Spanish) meant that improvement has mostly been limited to my ability to work out what syllables they´re actually pronouncing. Still a good deal of improvement necessary, before I can even start thinking about building up my vocabulary; a fact reaffirmed by a series of smile-and-nod conversations in Santa Fe over the last couple of days. I was treated to a 20min tour of the port museum (there´s little to do here but culture-vulture) by one of the staff, and was able to comprehend less than a minute´s worth. Plus ça change (or whatever), I hope. The couchsurfer I´m staying with (studying to be an English translator) has been incredibly patient and helpful with my attempts to practice, and I´ll hope keenly for more of the same...
6) La gente esta muy loca
Running every weekend through Jan+Feb, the carneval in Gualegauychu attracts thousands of vacationing Argentines from the nearby cities (it´s an hour from Buenos Aires, and we met revellers from as far afield as San Luis) to get drunk, swim in the riverside beaches and party. The atmosphere in the campsite we stayed in was fantastic: people were able to drive their cars onto the site, allowing miniature-discos to form around the blaring stereos. Any Reading Festival comparison was dispelled from my mind by the fact that people considerately acceded to the campsite-imposed silence at midnight, and the cacophony of dubious Latino pop music (including the gem above) abated for everyone to have a go at recovering for the following day. With intermittent thunderstorms (so not unlike Reading after all) throughout the weekend, enthusiasm for the carnaval may have been slightly dampened, but the main event still thrilled, with impressive floats, shimmying dancers and all the works.
Unsure of what then to expect from Carnaval in Encarnaçion, we were delighted to find an even better atmosphere. Billed by the Lonely Planet as "more fun than Rio", the Paraguayan version duly featured riotous levels of audience participation: we were buried on arrival under a blizzard of spray snow, and playful ´snowfights´ continued across the stands over the course of the event; together with virtually obligatory dancing. The fact that, of all people, I was keen to head along to the discoteca afterwards, is some testament to the atmosphere and energy of the crowd, although possibly also due to some degree to the quantity of Brahma consumed (see L2). Whatever, I found the cumbia rhythms far more intoxicating than the standard fare on offer in British clubs, and happily danced away like a loon until daylight.

Carnaval Paraguyan-style

Further Highlights


Iguazú Falls. Every bit as beautiful and impressive as the guide books say. Standing at the Devil´s Throat", at the head of the series of falls was a tremendous experience. You see and hear from 10ft the roar of water throwing itself 80ft off the ledge to the water below, and having no choice but to feel and even taste the consequent spray kicked up: an utterly visceral experience. The park itself, with a series of falls emerging from the pristine-rainforest to spill into the Rio Iguazu, was spectacularly beautiful. Take away the hordes of people, add a few mango trees and leave me alone with the vivid butterflies, startled iguanas scurrying through the undergrowth, and majestic black birds wheeling around in the sky (until you make out their heads and realise they´re vultures) - the place would be paradise.

Reducciones Jesuiticas. A step up from outright exploitation, the Jesuits gathered together settlements of indigenous Guaraní people, in order to protect them from other Europeans and convert them to Catholicism. Some grew to 3-4 thousand strong, until the order was banned from Spanish and Portugese lands and the reductions were abandoned. Visiting the ruins at San Ignacio, Trinídad and Jesús by day; with about as much information on offer as I´ve just relayed to you, was fairly underwhelming. Visiting Trinídad at night was another story. We were slightly unsure of what to expect of the "sound and light show", especially having had to pay for a taxi in order to arrive on time. However, under a full moon, and with ethereal choral and Guaraní music playing from hidden speakers; gazing at the floodlit ruins, or up the Southern Hemisphere stars, was absolutely magical.

Jesús, the smallest but best-preserved of the ruins.

Riverside Fun. Puerto Iguazú, in Argentina, overlooks the Tres Fronteras, sitting as it does at the confluence of the Rio Paraná (the border with Paraguay) and Rio Iguazú (bordering Brazil); and also acts at staging post for visits to the Falls. We were delighted by our decision to stay in the cheapest campsite we could find, it´s charms partly summed up by the owner´s introduction: "you´re not allowed to be drunk, throw maté leaves on the floor, etc etc... and if you want to smoke marijuana, you have to do it over there". With tents pitched haphazardly, wherever space could be found between the trees, the price-tag meant that the camp was home, for months at a time, to the ´artisans´ who sell tat on the streets of any tourist spot the world over. They were a fascinating bunch, spending their daytime making their wares, and their nighttime either touting them or smoking weed at the campsite. Some wove bracelets, some made jewellery, and one guy made these grotesque-looking clay/bamboo bongs up to 18inches long, which he said were due for sale in Amsterdam. A massive communal pot of food was cooked every day, with the contribution of 5pesoes or so (less than a quid) entitling one to as much tasty local grub as they could eat. Forays to the river for a swim were a daily (/nightly) occurrence, and the people I met there were amongst the friendliest I´ve met so far, helping me a great deal with my Spanish.
Swimming further down the Paraná, at the beach in Encarnaçion, saw the arrival of thunderstorms produced by the broiling humidity. The sudden transition from 38deg sunshine to charcoal grey skies created one of the best rainbows I´ve ever seen; and sitting in the surf as wind, lashing rain and fog replaced blue sky was a surreal (but fortunately short-lived) experience. Our host in Encarnaçion (we met Cesar through couchsurfing) also took us to the grounds of his church, which offered a viewpoint over the Paraná and Posadas to one of the best sunsets I´ve ever seen. With low-lying cloud allowing the Sun´s disc to be watched as it gradually inched its way below the horizon, the sight of its reflection from both river and clouds was mesmerising.

All-you-can-eat Meat buffet. Another tip from Cesar, the Brazilian-style churrasqueria was every bit as good as it sounds. With two girls as companions I lacked the peer-pressure to truly let rip, but did my best to boost the local cattle industry. What I thought were kebabs looked on closer inspection like they might be intestine, and I wasn´t sure whether to be disappointed or not to find out they were chicken hearts. They were very tasty all the same, as were the steak, ribs, chicken legs and chorizos also on offer. Fortunately we did not have to walk back home with laden stomachs, as the impact of blonde hair on local gallantry meant that we were offered a lift :)

Human Nature. Naff as it is to say, and with all the usual caveats (I´ve already heard several travellers´ stories, including the two girls in my dormitory who had pack/iPod nicked whilst I was eating breakfast - touchwood I stay this lucky), the friendliness and kindness of strangers remains one of the joys of travelling. From the hospitality of the couchsurfers I´ve stayed with, the invitations to homes/asados from the people who picked us up, to the Brazilian couple who gave me change for the bus (I´d daytripped across the border hoping I´d get by with pesoes), and more; people´s capacity and willingness to help has consistently been heartening.

I head South to Rosario tomorrow, and plan next to visit Cordóba before Mendoza. Having found the level of Spanish I have is enough to make myself understood, but not enough to interpret much in reply (the usual story), I´m thinking I might look for some tuition in one place or another. Will see. Hasta luego...