ARGENTINA: Iguazú Falls & El Calafate

Saturday, March 4, 2023 - One month before departure

The most important things seem to be set, although I am leaving plenty of unstructured time for activities at my destination. Not that I'll be wandering about wondering what to do, as my general plan is fairly ambitious:

Arrive in Iguazú City

View Iguazú Falls, with water transport

Visit Iguaçu/Iguassú Falls on the Brazilian side

Visit Bird Sanctuary, Brazil

Travel to El Calafate

Cruise to Perito Moreno Glacier

Cruise Spegazzini and Upsala Glaciers

Hike Perito Moreno

El Chaltén 

Leave El Calafate

I did build-in a float day in El Calafate. It seems it will be needed, especially when you consider the weather can be as unpredictable as in Ushuaia, some 500, or so, miles to the south.

I came close to reserving some tours but after seeing how bountiful the offerings I decided to just book things while I'm there. I'm betting I'll be able to do walk-ons (only one traveler!) even at some of the more in-demand tours, like hiking on the Perito Moreno.

Making air reservations for travel within Argentina was, as usual, a challenge. It wasn't so much the language as it was just difficulty getting to a pay screen as a foreigner. Seemed like it could not be done from the primary carrier, Aerolineas Argentina, due to data field enforcements or ID cards specific to Argentinians.

I was able to at least see the flights I wanted so that made it easy to go to a third party. I chose JustFly.com, and booked the tickets there. But even then it was a bit wonky.

Saturday, February 25, 2023 - One week before departure

Just returned from a family trip to Cabo San Lucas. Gianna came home for break and rather than sit around the house and play video games, we’d decided to take a family vacation. It was a 5-night Princess cruise from Long Beach (San Pedro) to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico - $55 per night. Comparing that to the cost of hotels in Cabo just a week before Spring Break  - about $350 per night, it was an easy choice.

The cruise itself was “good enough” as the food was unremarkable (except for maybe the toasted salami and cheese on a pretzel roll from the International Cafe on the Plaza deck) and the crew seemed far less congenial than on the Carnival cruise we took 3 years ago on, essentially, the same route. 

It’ll be interesting to see how the April cruise on Holland America (another line owned by the Carnival Corporation) compares.  The three lines seem to cater to specific markets - Carnival targets families, Holland America markets to an older, more experienced crowd when it comes to water travel, and Princess seems to be somewhere in the middle.  

And to be sure, there is considerable crossover among the target demographics, or so I think, as there certainly was on the Carnival and Princess trips. I do know that Holland America has a good reputation among the more experienced ocean travelers but it remains to be seen how much that skews the demographics.

Monday, February 27, 2023 - But for now, it’s time to focus on Argentina

In the north at Iguazú Falls the early March temps are 70-90° F, high humidity, and rain.  In the south, El Calafate, only 500 miles from Ushuaia, they are 35-55° F with high winds and rain - colder at the glaciers.  I have to be prepared for both environments.

With the camera gear fitting nicely in the underseat backpack, I think it’s doable with a carry-on.  Because of the more stringent weight requirements of the Argentine carriers it will probably have to be checked for internal flights but it will help for the US and international legs.  I just hope the camera bag will pass - or that I can convince the ticketing/gate staff to let it on even though it is overweight as well. Again, no problem in the US and international legs.  We’ll see how this plays out.

Friday, March 3, 2023 - Final preparations

A busy day today. Taking MJ for a root canal - ouch! Then it is final preparations for the trip - including a check-in with Delta at 13:09 and downloading tickets from Aerolineas Argentina and FlyBondi. I'll have 10 flights in all on this trip.

Managed to get everything into a carry-on and the camera backpack - very tight fit though. It might yet need some fine tuning - and, of course, there are those weight issues.

Saturday, March 4, 2023 - Here we go

I feel a bit disoriented without having to deal with everything that comes along with traveling with multiple companions. Of course, it's also freeing - especially so with the open schedule of this trip. 

But first, cat litter out, cat fed, dog fed, dog out, plants watered. In short, leaving the house in good shape for her. She'll be fine for the 12 days I'm gone but it's still awkward for us both. Like Antarctica though, this trip has little interest to her, except for maybe Iguazú Falls.

Chores done. Bags fully packed. After reading a few stories about their inflation - it was 150 Argentine pesos when I started tracking it late last year, now the official rate is 200 . . . and the street rate is 400 pesos to the dollar. I'm bringing dollars. Lotsa dollars.

Went straight to the gate, no bags to check. Going with boarding passes on the phone. Security was effortless, although I always worry about dropping my pants once the belt comes off. Once again, I'm reminded how easy it is to get through Tucson International. It gets the journey off to a relaxing start.  Well, at least inasmuch as travel in economy can be relaxing.

A 100% full flight which means carry-on luggage is a scramble. I am in group 3 which makes no sense as I was on the Delta site yesterday as soon as I could check in. 

Bin space was pretty much full around my seat so I put someone's suitcase on end and squeezed mine in, displaced someone in the middle trying to score a window, and then listened to all the requests, and then complaints, about people wanting to switch seats. Two words: plan ahead. Actually, a few more - deal with what you signed up for. 

Incredibly, the flight attendants were coercing people to swap seats when asked. What a waste of everyone's time.

Delta is offering free WiFi on this flight for SkyMiles members. Nice little perk but really not feeling the need to stay connected, even as we were delayed on the tarmac while eight F-16s landed. Only about a 20 minute delay, I suspect we'll make up that time en route.

Arrived in Atlanta at dusk. A train ride and short walk to gate E12 to wait for my next departure. Should start loading in a couple of hours. Hopefully, this flight is not as full as the last - I'd like to stretch out a bit, maybe take the shoes off. Still 3 more flights and about 22-ish hours to go. At 10 hours flight time for this leg, it is the longest. The last two flights are only 3 hours and 2 hours long . . . at least, that's the plan.

Another full plane and another talker, Daniella. Originally from a village in the Amazon jungle, came to the US as an exchange student at the age of 12. A real success story. Got an accounting degree and now oversees 53 other accountants for a large, unnamed firm. Now lives in Alabama. Huh? Alabama? Traveling to Brazil to visit her ailing father. I actually enjoy these long flight conversations and welcome the opportunity to meet other people. She was much more subdued than Captain Phil and even though the conversation went on well past dinner, nobody shushed us!

When I told her where I was going, Daniella easily recognized Iguazú Falls (and even corrected my pronunciation), but she'd never heard of El Calafate. I found it interesting that so few people, even in the region, don't know about the massive glacier fields around El Calafate. A pretty well-kept secret I think.

Sunday, March 5, 2023 - In Transit

At first, Sao Paolo doesn't seem that big but the city supports over 12 million people and as we flew closer to GRU you could see the immensity of the city, the slums and high rise apartments seemed to go on forever. There were huge swaths of green hills around the city along with a huge amount of surface water in ponds, lakes, streams around the city. I didn't see any rivers but all those ponds and lakes ultimately find their way to the ocean.

I'm finding that I can only pick up a word of Portuguese here and there. Even though it's sometimes close to Spanish, many words and pronunciations are different. And the language itself is much more guttural with a harshness approaching German speech. Daniella assured me that if I saw printed words I'd have a greater understanding as the similarities with Spanish stand out more when the pronunciations are stripped. In walking around the airport though I had to rely on other visual clues to decipher a phrase as it still looked Greek to me.

There was a 3-hour layover, not enough time to leave the airport, besides, it would mean having to go through more checkpoints for passport as well as luggage, so I just waited by the gate. 

Slowly, more people trickled in until the area was packed - another completely full flight and I was in row 27 of a 30-row plane with a short connection in Buenos Aires. Miraculously, I found space for my carry-on and it was another unremarkable flight.

Except for the immensity of the delta and estuary of the Rio de la Plata as it empties into the Atlantic Ocean. The river separates Argentina from Uruguay. The Parana river, home to Iguazú Falls, joins the Uruguay river just upstream of the delta and creates a massive amount of water flowing into the ocean - after negotiating the labyrinth of channels, islands, and muck. 

There were many colors of water, actually, many shades of brown, tan, and yellow, flowing into the ocean. The colors depended on what channel the water flowed through and what silts it picked up as it coursed its way the ocean to become the homogeneous brown that you see from the city. The colors defined the currents and flows and the entire arabesque was mesmerizing. This is why, after half a century of flying, I still prefer window seats and always will.

In Argentina, the passengers always applaud when the plane lands - a show of appreciation for a job well done. From the sound of it, I'd say about half the passengers were Argentinian.

I patiently waited for my turn to exit the plane, walk down the stairs the ground crew rolled up to the plane, and jump on the bus to take us to the terminal. It was a short ride but with each minute that ticked by I was that much closer to missing my last of four flights of these past two days.

There were several people manning the passport control kiosks but I was literally the last person in line. Tick tock, tick tock. I was finally allowed to pass, I flew by the baggage carousel (no checked bags) and then I was outside. I had to go through the security checkpoints again just as if a taxi had just dropped me at the airport. More time.

My prior knowledge of the airport - this is where I thought I'd lost my passport last year - and the lack of a bag to check really streamlined the process. The Aerolineas Argentinas ticket counter was, as before, a jumbled mass of people. I walked by that mess and headed directly upstairs to security and the gates. 

It was hot and humid here, just as the last time I was at AEP, and the vest and jacket that will serve me well next week was, for now, a burden. And just as the last time, I was rushing through the airport, working up a sweat. Not pleasant for me or the people who will sit next to me on the next flight. Sorry.

Sunday, March 5, 2023 - Landed

Once again, the travel gods smiled on me and the flight was delayed by 20 minutes and that gave me a buffer to cool down before the last leg. We followed the Paraná river to Iguazú City, arriving as the sun went down. I was first to grab a taxi and got beat up mildly on the price - 3400 pesos but when I told them I only had dollars the fare became $20. Even at the "official" exchange rate of 205 pesos to the dollar the fare should have been no more than $16.60. She also scrutinized the $20 bill I gave her, and the next, and the next until she finally found one that was acceptable. She wanted perfect $20 bills. It wasn't until the next day when I went to the "Cambio", the money changer, that I learned why she was being so persnickety - she wanted perfect bills so she could enhance her earnings even more by exchanging them for pesos. But more on that later. So, Natali, the driver, built in her tip and was a nuisance when it came time to pay so she could squeeze a few more pesos out of the ride. Sorry Natali, I applaud you for your resourcefulness but I'll find someone else to drive me tomorrow.

A quick diversion on pesos. It just amazes me how the exchange rate, which I've been following for about 6 months now just marches higher and higher. 150 pesos to the dollar in October, 200 just before I left, and 205 by the time I arrived. It's just been a straight line slide since just before the pandemic when only 50 pesos would buy a dollar. Now, you need over 205 and as much as 400 for a street exchange. And still, planes are full and Argentines continue to spend. I guess saving just doesn't make sense with their peso eroding like it is. Soon, I think, American tourists are going to figure out what a travel bargain Argentina is right now.

The ride to the hotel took about 20 minutes. There were no shops or services between the airport and hotel, Complejo Americano, just dark jungle and occasional big yellow signs warning drivers to watch for jaguars, coatis or tapirs. Yep, not in North America anymore!

I couldn't get a sense of the hotel because of the darkness but the reception area was clean and they had my reservation. There were three prices on the invoice. One was the full price if paid in US dollars, another for a payment with a US credit card, and another if paying in Argentinian pesos. 

One of the staff walked me to my quarters for the next few days, a cottage type of building divided into four separate hotel rooms, each with their own entrance. The furnishings were sparse but the air conditioning was on and the room smelled clean, although there was an underlying base of old, old floors, old mattress, old wardrobe, old everything. It wasn't bothersome but it was noticeable. And of course, in addition to a spacious shower, the bathroom had one of the staples of Argentine hygiene - a bidet.

And everything worked. Even if everything wasn't perfectly maintained and refreshed, the staff made sure everything worked - and that works for me.

I didn't bother to shower or change clothes and strolled down the stone path, through the night, past the pool, and to the restaurant. I tend to not focus on food when traveling solo and invariably, at some point, I realize I'd forgotten to eat. Such was the case on this night.

Oscar, the maitre d', greeted me at the door and led me to a table. The restaurant was virtually empty when I arrived. It was around 8pm but too early for dinner for most Argentinians. I selected a nice bottle of local (Mendoza) Malbec ($12) and a dish of truly homemade ravioli - even the pasta was from scratch - stuffed with cheese and mushrooms ($10). Absolutely delicious with a genuine Italian flair to the sauce. I wasn't going to drink a bottle of wine on a mostly empty stomach so Oscar corked the remaining half for me to enjoy tomorrow.

Oscar was a wealth of information. He recommended a good wine at an affordable price and an excellent pasta dish. He also recommended Mr. Chino Cambio as a reliable money changer and said that the best way to get to the Brazil side of the falls was by taxi - both can be arranged at the front desk tomorrow.

About halfway through dinner, two women sat down at the next table, I noticed them checking out what was on my plate and I told them the pasta was homemade and excellent. One of them spoke pretty good English and she said that it sounded good as an appetizer but that for a main course they preferred some beef.  Argentina, where even the women are carnivores.

Monday, March 6, 2023 -  Iguacú Falls, Brazil

Refreshed. Stayed in bed until 5:00 - highly unnatural for me. At 6:11 the first birds, tropical birds, started singing to greet the day. What if we all did that? What if each and every one of us greeted each and every day with a song, welcoming the new day and all the promise it holds? Just stop and ponder that for a few moments.

Some business to tend to today. I need to exchange dollars for Argentine pesos and Brazilian reals. I thought I needed an electric adapter but, on closer inspection, it seems the type "C" that I brought will fit into the "I" type sockets in the wall. Good, I just saved a stop. 

In short, I need transportation to the Brazilian side of the falls with a quick stop along the way. But first, I have to check out the breakfast. No hurry, people eat dinner late, they get up late, their day starts a bit later than mine. 

In getting my bearings this morning, I realized I may have made an error when booking my flights. In reviewing the maps, I realized that, because of Argentina's odd northern border, I had flown more than half way back towards Sao Paulo to get to Iguazú City!  Depending on flight schedules, I could have, theoretically, flown directly to Foz do Iguacu on the Brazilian side of the falls and saved a leg of my 30-hour journey. It would have created some logistics issues perhaps but it would have been an alternative. Nonetheless, I am here now.

I strolled the grounds on my way to breakfast. Pleasant but tired - kind of like me. The pool looked a little green but the morning crew seemed to be addressing that. The complex had some deferred maintenance but other than making a difference in how many stars it got on the rankings it really didn't matter. Birds of Paradise plants, crotons, coconut, banana, bamboo, and even avocado trees abounded and the background music of tropical birds just added to the soothing ambiance.

I arrived for breakfast at 7:15 and, surprisingly, several people were already there. I guess they want to get an early start for the falls. Lively music, some North American, some South American, enhanced the place and it was that plus some caffeine that just made you want to get up and dance. Maybe I'm beginning to understand the Tango Culture. 

The buffet was not nearly as elaborate as at some of the finer hotels, especially in Asia, but it was good, wholesome food. The scrambled eggs were real eggs - you could tell by the flavor and the stray bit of egg shell. There were no omelets, but under the other chafing dish were tight rolls of ham and cheese. Jamon y queso - the staple of Argentinian cuisine. The baked goods were made fresh, again, you could tell by the flavor, there were no preservatives in any of their baked goods - breads, danish, croissants, pastries. Nada.

Seems like most of the guests are Argentinian or Brazilian but I did hear some English. There was a healthy balance of young, old, singles, couples, families. Clearly, Complejo Americano had a broad customer base.

The friendly clerk from last night was still on duty.  I told him of my plans for the day and he arranged for a taxi. About 10 minutes later, Estafani showed up.  The first thing she did was ask for my passport and she copied the information in a log book. Apparently, the taxis have to keep some pretty detailed information about their passengers - it also makes for a pretty good system to provide a margin of safety for the drivers. 

Her English was no better than my Spanish but I managed to convey what I wanted to do that day and she offered an alternative.  First, she said, getting Brazilian reals wasn’t necessary as the entrance fee to the park is handled with kiosks that only accept bank cards - credit or debit. And because of that, a trip to the Cambio, the money changer, wouldn’t be necessary until I return from the park. Great! So, first stop, the Brazilian side of the falls, the Cataratas. The drive was longer than I thought it would be.  The road was good but there was a lot of construction.  The big earth movers were digging into the red dirt that was a striking contrast to the bright green jungle around us.  

That jungle was absolutely impenetrable to a person on foot. The thick underbrush was so dense you couldn’t see more than a few feet in.  I imagine someone could hack out a path with a good machete but you got the feeling that the jungle would just close up behind you and swallow you whole. It made me think about the early explorers and missionaries of the New World.  Of course the indigenous people had their paths and game trails that were maintained throughout generations, but if those early explorers didn’t make contact with the locals they had a tough time exploring.  Very tough.

Just before we stopped at the park entrance we passed the bird sanctuary - it was an easy walk from the park.  Estefani said it would take about two hours to view the falls and another two hours to walk through the bird sanctuary so she’d be back at 3:00 to pick me up.  I said 4:00 was probably better as I will be taking a lot of photos. Perfecto.  I got out and didn’t even pay her any money for the ride.  She knew where to find me if I skipped out on her.

Estafani drove off and I tried to decipher how to gain access to the falls.  Fortunately, the National Park had plenty of multilingual people there to help.  The gentleman I connected with explained the pricing and the process.  There was a base fee, but if you wanted to take a boat ride into the falls, and get wet, you could add that on.  I opted for the basic fare (and was later glad I did) and headed straight for the double-decker coach that was nearly ready to leave.  Good timing. I got the last of the open air seats on the upper deck, no rain is predicted for today or tomorrow, and the bus was off into the jungle on a narrow but well-maintained road.  

As we drove deeper into the park, the first thing that struck me were the butterflies. They were everywhere.  It was not a dramatic horde of butterflies that darkened the sky and broke tree branches with the sheer weight of numbers, no, it was more subtle. It didn’t matter where you looked, you could always see one, but usually a pair, of butterflies fluttering through the air in search of nectar.  And they weren’t big butterflies, most were yellow and, at least on the surface, appeared to be something you’d see in your garden at home. It was pleasant to see them as they flitted into and out of view as they disappeared into that thick jungle.  

And it was a reminder that I was in the tropics.  Not that I needed one as I was sweating profusely.  I looked around at people in their shorts and t-shirts looking pretty comfortable but I had to reach into my pocket several times for my handkerchief to wipe my head so the sweat wouldn’t get in my eyes.  While the bus was moving, the breeze helped a lot but when we stopped it was just plain oppressive - and carrying a backpack full of camera gear did not help.

The bus stopped at the hotel, the Belmond Hotel das Cataratas, the only hotel allowed in the park as best as I could tell - grandfathered in.  It was a beautiful, pink colonial complex that was meticulously maintained. Staying there had the added benefit of being able to view the falls at night. But that came at a pretty steep cost - one night there cost more than my entire stay in Iguazú. Still, I'm sure the guests had a fantastic view as tonight's full moon illuminated the network of waterfalls. Although I’m not sure that strolling around a jungle in the moonlight is a good idea.

I waited for everyone to get off the bus and head down the trail to the waterfall viewing areas before I did the same - I'd rather have the crowd in front of me rather than behind so I could proceed at a leisurely pace before the next load of tourists overtook me.

Iguazú Falls, or Iguacú Falls since I'm in Brazil, is not just a single waterfall, it is a network of water waterfalls, 150 to 300 depending on water flows, so vast you cannot view all of them at once. They occur on the Iguazú River, just a few miles upstream from where the Iguazú River joins the Paraná River.

Iguazú Falls are not the tallest in the world - that honor is held by Victoria Falls. They do not have the highest mean flow rate - Niagara Falls tops that category, although in 2014, heavy rainfalls in the Amazon caused the Iguazú to increase its flow rate tenfold to about 6 times that of Niagara. They are recognized though as being the widest waterfalls in the world and in trying to wrap my head around the sights before me as I hiked the trail I can confirm that.

The trail was fairly well maintained although I always tested the railings before leaning on them and a few were a bit wobbly. With every bend in the trail, new falls would appear and you’d sometimes get a sense of what was ahead by the mist in the air at some of the bigger falls, like Devil’s Throat. It was an easy hike but the heat and humidity had me sweating nonstop.

I saw a large, well-powered zodiac in the river that would flit in and out of some of the falls so that all the orange life vested people could get their soaking - not something my camera gear would appreciate.  In zooming in on them though I could see they were packed into that boat shoulder to shoulder and the whole thing smacked more of an amusement park ride than an appreciation of nature at its best. Like I said earlier, I was glad I opted out.

It turned out the extra hour I had negotiated with Estefani was not enough. WhatsApp is a popular means of communication in Argentina so, using the app, I texted her to pick me up at 5:00 instead of 4:00.  No problem. If it weren't for the heat and humidity I could have stayed until the park closed at 6:00. The only relief I got was near the end of the trail where a stout walkway extended into the river at the base of one of the falls and the cooling mist from the cascade washed over the tourists gathered there.  Of course, it also fell on the camera equipment so I didn’t want to linger too long.

After wiping down my gear I headed up to the pickup point and the bus took me back to the park entrance. Again, I lucked out and got a seat on the upper deck - more cooling breeze. I still had 2 hours to explore the Parque de Aves - the bird sanctuary. Plenty of time.

Monday, March 6, 2023 -  Cambio

I did the short walk to the sanctuary, paid my fee, and went inside. It was not terribly crowded and the birds in there easily outnumbered the people. As the trail wound through the park you had opportunities to enter some of the enclosures. They had a typical double-door system so if a bird followed a visitor out they’d be trapped in the buffer between the first and second doors. At least that was the theory. In reality, the public, by and large, didn’t really care if birds escaped and several times I noticed someone opening a door before the inner door shut.

The park had a nice collection of birds - macaws, raptors, flamingos, parrots, etc. - but the whole experience was a little too contrived for me and my favorite part was when I heard a rustle in a banana tree in one of the open areas. I looked up and a monkey (mono in Spanish, mona for the feminine . . . puts a new spin on Mona Lisa) was inspecting the bananas, plucking out the ripe ones. I watched him for several minutes and no one stopped to observe - it wasn’t a bird, it wasn’t in an official enclosure, therefore it didn’t ping their radar. Hello? Nature anyone?

Of course, my sentiments could have been colored by an unfortunate event that occurred soon after I entered the park but went unnoticed for quite a while. At one point on the trail I heard a tinkle like keys being dropped on the ground. There were a few people around me and maybe someone had dropped theirs. I paused to look around but saw nothing so moved on. As I later discovered, the “tinkle” was not keys but glass. I had both cameras out, the 600mm Sigma on a shoulder strap and a 55mm on a wrist strap. Apparently, the camera with the smaller lens swung into the Sigma and shattered the UV filter that I have on each of my lenses. Such events always leave small pieces of glass behind that could scratch the lens or, in worst case situations, a strong enough impact could fracture the lens rendering it useless. Fortunately, the lens itself was not damaged but I could not unscrew the filter, nor could I remove the remaining pieces of the filter, so it posed a risk.  The filters are usually screwed hand tight onto the lens but this one would not budge.  On closer inspection, it appears the lens took a hit somewhere in transit and while it didn’t damage the optics, it whacked up the threads enough to where the filter, or what was left of it, was stuck. Without tools, there was nothing I could do other than carefully pack the lens away and hope it did not sustain further damage until I could remove the filter.

Estefani showed up a few minutes early, as usual, and we headed off to the Cambio - the money changer. She pulled up to a Western Union office with about a dozen sketchy looking people lined up outside. This wasn’t Mr. Chino’s but I trusted that Estefani knew what was best. She got out and beckoned me to follow. She walked up to the guard at the door, I’m sure he was armed but no gun was visible, and they exchanged a few words. In short order, the guard opened the door and waved me through - to the annoyance of everyone else in line.

Inside, there were three clerk windows and I went to the one where a man was just finishing his business.  When I got to the window I asked, “Cambio?” The clerk looked at me suspiciously, sizing me up, and then nodded his head.  Such transactions are technically illegal but it forms an important part of the Argentine economy, especially so in times of rampant inflation. I fished out $200 in twenties from my wallet and pushed them through the slot. Then the inspection began.

He scrutinized every bill, not for fakes as I suspect he could spot those in an instant - no need for those markers that clerks often use to check for counterfeit bills, but for the quality of the note itself. The slightest tear, or scuff, or stain was grounds for rejection. About half of my bills did not pass muster so I went fishing for more until he finally accepted ten of them.  He disappeared for a few moments then came back with a fistful of 1,000 peso Argentine notes.  He ran them through the bill counter twice before handing the bundle to me - 70,000 pesos was what I got in the exchange.  If I had gotten the official rate it would have been about 40,000.  My adventure just got a lot less costly as my pesos were, in reality, nearly double what I had anticipated. 

I wanted to change more but none of my remaining bills were good enough and the wad of cash I now had barely fit into my wallet,  Note to self - if I return to Argentina, bring crisp new $20 bills and I’ve heard that fresh $100 bills will fetch an even better rate.  Gotta think big picture.  I’m sure there are some logistic issues but, in theory, it should be possible to come to Argentina with the maximum amount of cash you can bring out of the country, exchange it for Argentine pesos, bring those pesos back into the US, and turn them back into dollars. The profits would pay for the whole trip - and then some. Hmmmmm.

Estafani brought me back to the hotel and informed me that she stops work at 6:00 so she can prepare dinner for her family.  She arranged for a colleague, Josue, to come pick me up and take me to Hito, a promontory in town where the Iquazú flows into the Paraná and ceases to be. From the viewpoint, also called Los Tres Fronteras, you can see Brazil across the Iguazú and Paraguay across the Paraná, which, unbelievably after I just spent the day looking at massive flows of water, is much larger than the Iguazú river.

Josue dropped me off at Hito and said he'd be back at 8:00 to pick me up. Hito is like a town square, benches to sit on, food and goods vendors, a monument to Los Tres Fronteres, a water feature where jets of water would shoot out of the pavement at random intervals. 

An enterprising old man was set up at his spot with his harp serenading the crowd to their delight. The sun hadn't yet set but it was low in the sky and the temperatures were dropping down to a comfortable level. It seemed the majority of people there were locals who would gather there to see and be seen, enjoy a beer or two, and just generally relax before heading off to dinner after the sunset.

A small group of foreign cyclists had their bicycles parked on the, unknown to them, water feature and they provided some of the evening entertainment when the jets started spouting water, soaking their bicycles and gear. The entire plaza, self included, erupted in laughter as these safety-helmeted, spandex-clad foreigners scrambled to get their bikes to a dry area. And they had to dodge a few dogs who, futilely, tried to catch those annoying bursts of water that would randomly appear.

A full moon rising in the east as the sun set in the west completed the scene. It was all very calming and a wonderful way to end a very active day.

Josue picked me up right on time and we tried to converse on the way back to the hotel. His wife is an English teacher and he's only been driving taxi for a couple of months so he was anxious to try his English skills which were about as good (or bad!) as my Spanish. The, sometimes stilted, conversation eventually got around to politics and he asked me, "Do you like Trump or Joe Biden?" Oh boy, do we have to go there?

I forgot to eat during the day today so I went directly to the hotel restaurant and ordered an appetizer and a main dish. Mistake. It was late in the day, well past my usual feeding time, my stomach shrunk a bit, and the portions were huge. The eggplant parmesan was maybe the best I've ever had, stacked high, not runny, but not dry either. And the portion was big enough to be a meal in itself. Then came my "minute steak", essentially a chicken fried steak with a ham slice on top (similar to a cordon bleu), also done parmesan style with tomato sauce and mozzarella, with some fresh lettuce, tomato, and shredded carrots on the side. There was no way I could eat it all - and I regret trying because I could not sleep at all. Maybe tomorrow I'll just go with the eggplant appetizer.

Tuesday, March 7, 2023 - Iguasú Falls, Argentina

The symphony of birds started at 6:09 today - two minutes earlier than yesterday.  The birds understand sunrise.

I ventured out a little after 7:00 and I was greeted by a fog that enveloped the complex. The temperature dropped below the dew point overnight and the morning sun, appearing as a pale, white disc in the sky, tried to burn away the mist. And, eventually, as always, the sun wins.

I was not hungry at all after the late dinner last night but I needed water. I lost so much yesterday that during the night my legs cramped up, and not the arches of the feet, nor the calves, but the big muscles in the thigh. Both of them. At the same time.

I ate a small croissant along with 5 cups of tea, 1 cup for my Chinese herb powder, and 2 cups of just plain water. I felt better hydrated although some might argue that the tea is a diuretic. There's a small gift shop on the grounds and after breakfast I bought 1.5 liters of water, that and a couple of small bottles during the day, should take me through the rest of my time in Iguasú.

I tracked down one of the maintenance guys and showed him the stuck and broken UV filter on the big lens and a picture of channel locks, explaining what I needed - for the broken filter to be removed.  And a challenge it was. Like me, he tried to twist it off with the same result I had. He got a pair of channel locks but there just wasn't enough rim on the filter to get a bite. By this time, a co-worker came over to see if he could remove it. Nada. Next came the screwdriver to try and pry it off. Nada. What finally worked was a butter knife. He slipped it in the narrow groove between filter and lens and kept working it until it popped off. Thank you maintenance superhero! 

I'll keep the Sigma 600 packed away today. It really is better for wildlife shots and I wasn't expecting any wildlife in today's outing. Besides, I don't want to put it at further risk until I get another UV filter to protect the optics. In fact, with even hotter temperatures predicted today, I'm leaving the backpack in the room and just going bare bones for capturing images with one camera, one lens, and my phone. 

Estefani arrived before 10:00 to take me to the Argentine side of the falls. When she dropped me off at the park entrance she said she'd be back at 5:00 to pick me up. It was going to be another long, hot, humid, and active day. I didn't realize how active until I was well into the day.

I purchased my entrance ticket and they needed to see my passport for some reason. Maybe it was to keep track of visitors in case there was some unexpected event like a jaguar attack or a walkway collapse. There were several warning signs posted advising parents to keep their small children close lest they be eaten by jaguars and reminding everyone that we were entering an area that was inherently dangerous due to the forces of nature. Check. Got it.

Soon after entering the park, the first wild and dangerous animals appeared - the coatis (just kidding about the dangerous part). Coatis look like a cross between a raccoon and a lemur with a longer snout. They rooted around, nose to the ground, stopping often to scratch the ground or dig with their snout, hoping to rustle up a tasty insect or grub.  They saw people as just another object to move through or around and they had absolutely no interest in us.  They tended to travel in small bands although I sometimes came across a lone coati which would technically be called a coatimundi - “mundi” being the indigenous Guarani word for “lone”. 

Slimmer than a raccoon with a brown coat and a dark brown and tan ringed tail which they usually held erect, you just wanted to pet them or cuddle them but they always managed to stay just out of reach - and that was probably a good thing for both coati and humans. Anyway, just watching them scurry about brought a spontaneous smile to your face and that made them excellent park greeters.

Unlike Brazil, there was no bus to take visitors deeper into the park. There was a narrow gauge train though to help people cut down on the amount of walking. Large maps of the park were posted near the entrance and at the three train stops; the main station, closest to the entrance, a middle station where a couple of trails converged, and the far station that set people up for, literally, a walk across the water to Garganta del Diablo - the Devil’s Throat.  

There were multiple trails to choose from, the longest being the hike to the Devil’s Throat, so that, of course, was the one I chose to do first. And, of course, I wasn’t going to use the train, so off I went on foot. I got the chance to photograph some birds and butterflies along the way but the first part of the trek was through the jungle with no water, much less waterfalls, in sight. Occasionally, I’d hear leaves rustle or twigs snap but I never was able to see any animals associated with the sound.  Well into the hike I started to hear water gurgling and sometimes I’d catch a glimpse of water through the leaves so I knew the river, or one of its feeder streams were not far away.

By the time I reached the far station I was soaking wet and pretty well exhausted.  Even though the terrain was flat with maybe a slight uphill grade, the heat and humidity was taking a toll on me.  It was a little tough going at times yesterday but today was hotter and just a few degrees made a big difference.  A miscalculation on my part, nonetheless, I soldiered on.

From the far station, my red dirt trail turned into metal grating bolted to steel I-beams which, in turn, were fixed to concrete pylons sitting in the water or sometimes in marshy soil.  Whereas on the trail I could keep up a steady cadence, on the steel grating I was slowed down by the young, the elderly, the infirm, the semi-ambulatory.  Sometimes, I’d just slow down until there was a wide spot to overtake them, other times I’d look for an opportunity to pass - just like driving a two-lane highway.  And, to be fair, I’m sure I held up some people as well whenever I lingered to take a photo.

At first there were small islands or clumps of plants between the stretches of flowing water but those eventually gave way to wide expanses of water and, finally, any semblance of land or flora just disappeared completely.  There was wreckage of old walkways and twisted I-beams sticking out of the water - that was a little discomforting but I’m sure they were destroyed by storms and not on fine, sunny days like this, right? And then I started to hear the roar emanating from the Devil’s Throat.

Visitors were jammed on the viewing platform that seemed to hang over the precipice so you just waited your turn to go out there, a couple of people out, a couple of people in.  I couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell did they build this walkway and platform.  Certainly they had to wait for the dry season, but even in the dry season the water flows.  I’m sure the history of who and how these walkways were designed and built would make a fascinating story.

I finally got my turn on the platform and I cozied up to the rail.  The sight was mesmerizing.  Water rushed into this U-shaped hole from 270°, maybe approaching 300°, of radius. It is 120 feet across, and growing - I just hoped it didn't decide to grow today. You could not see the bottom for all the spray being kicked up by the falling water but some accounts have it at over 350 feet deep. And the sound.  The sound, as one would expect, was deafening. It was one of the most astounding displays of nature I’ve ever seen.

Sometime during my time at the rail, some fat, impatient, old woman decided to elbow her way up front, jostling me in the process.  I was never in any danger of toppling over but the railing was just over waist high and this was no place for maneuvers like that.  I laid into her.  I glared at her and yelled at her using every name in the book, flaring my nostrils for effect and stopping just short of threatening to throw her into the abyss, which I could have easily done.  I don’t know how much she understood but she certainly got the message.  And the fact that no one came to her defense told me that I was just expressing what others were thinking - either that or they were all afraid of what the crazy, old white guy might do.

Eventually, out of fairness to others, I relinquished my spot and started the trek back across the water. The mist coming out of the Devil’s Throat gave some respite from the heat but as I approached solid ground again, the heat and humidity got the sweat glands going full force. By the time I made it back to the far station I needed two things - water and a ride. I bought water from the concession and grabbed a seat on the train across from a couple from Seattle.  There were so few English speakers around, whenever you encountered one the conversation just flowed forth.  These were genuinely nice people though and they were talking about taking a trip to Antarctica.  Well, that struck a chord with me and I started doing a brain dump on them.  At one point, the woman turned to her husband and said, “Honey, are you taking notes on this?” 

Just before the train pulled out of the station, a coati decided to go from one side of the tracks to the other and out of the corner of my eye I saw brown fur and a ringed tail scoot between our legs and wander off to check out the grubs on the other side.  We all got a chuckle on that. 

The train pulled out at about 5 miles per hour and soon we were at the middle station.  The water and the breeze from the train refreshed me to the point where I was ready to tackle the next longest trail - the Superior Upper Trail.  I said farewell to the couple, wished them happy travels, and was back on a jungle trail again. It looked like another pretty long trek but I figured if I really started getting tired I’d just turn back.  Another miscalculation.  When I got to the trailhead there was a big sign in multiple languages informing all that this was a one way route.  There were no turnbacks.  Commit, or turn around now.  Of course, I committed.

The trek was a mix of trail and steel grating along the rim of one area of the falls. I stopped counting how many falls we crossed and I saw still more in the far distance that the trails would not reach. When you're hovering on the edge of one of the waterfalls and you see more falls on what seems to be the horizon you start to get a feel for the breadth of this amazing and magnificent display of nature.

When I got back to the middle station I knew I was done. I didn't even think of not taking the train back to the main station. I called Estefani to change the pickup time to 4:00 and she happily obliged. My heels were sore and chaffed, I later found out that the heels of my socks had completely worn through - they were new when I put them on this morning. Later, I also learned that I had heat rashes in parts of my body where things in my pockets heated up and chaffed my skin as I walked. My nose was sunburned and my forearms were red. Some of the blemishes on my hands and head appeared more intense from feeding on UV rays all day. But I would do it again, just maybe be a little smarter about how I do it. 

When Estafani arrived she asked if I liked the Brazilian or the Argentinian side better. I told her it was comparing manzanas to naranjas - apples to oranges. And both were quite tasty.

I refreshed in the room then went to the restaurant around 7:00. Too early. It doesn’t open until 7:30. I sat outside the restaurant overlooking the pool as a three-legged dog ran back and forth, not with any particular reason but thoroughly enjoying himself. Several people were around the pool, either in the water or conversing with friends.  It dawned on me that I’d never seen so many butt cheeks in one place before - it seemed every woman under 50, and even some tweens, were wearing T-back swimsuits.  

For me, it was an odd site, but as I thought about it, it’s simply that different countries have different social and moral codes and in Argentina it’s perfectly ok for women to show off their derrieres.  I think what’s surprising though is that Argentina strikes me as a conservative country with traditional values and machismo is very much alive and well here. And that seems to conflict with women, wives, girlfriends, showing off their butts.

I went in to dinner about 7:45 and the place was still empty.  I didn’t care, I had, again, forgotten to eat during the day. I didn’t make the same mistake as the previous night, I ordered just the eggplant parmesan appetizer and nothing else.  It was just as good as the night before and there was just enough wine left in my bottle from yesterday to accompany the dish. A pleasant end to an arduous but magnificent day.

Wednesday, March 8, 2023 - the Wanda Mines

This morning, the serenade started at 6:08. Even though I slept marginally better than the previous night, I still haven't fully recovered from yesterday's trek through the jungle. I really pushed things a bit too much yesterday so I'm very thankful for a more relaxed day today.

The breakfasts haven't varied much - scrambled eggs, jamon y queso are the staple. The baked goods do change though and this morning one of the selections was an upside down pineapple cake. I don't know why they fell out of favor, this one was pretty tasty.

Estefani was scheduled to pick me up at 10:30 but I went to the lobby before 10:00. I thought I'd go there and people watch until she arrived. The lobby was empty except for the clerk on duty - the same guy who was on duty when I arrived on Sunday. He has been the best English speaker I've encountered here, well, at least among the locals.

He seemed really excited to use his English skills so we had a pretty lively conversation until other guests started trickling in. Sebastian said he's trained as a pilot but that the pay for pilots in Argentina is pretty low.  That didn't make me feel good about flying Aerolineas Argentinas. He's been to the US on a couple of occasions, visiting California, Las Vegas, Grand Canyon, and Miami. He's trying to get a student visa so he can return to the US and stay longer then possibly turn that into a green card so he can work as a pilot. I told him there's a shortage of pilots in the US and to maybe work that approach. 

His plan B was to get access to the US through a marriage visa but the going rate for those is about $20,000 and with the exchange rate dropping like it's been the last few years that goal is getting further and further from reach.

I told him Estefani was an excellent driver and that she took me to a Cambio where I was able to get 350 pesos to the dollar. He smiled lightly at that and said the going rate on the black market is 375 and that they took advantage of me because I was a foreigner. Oh well, I still came out ahead and was happy with the transaction.

Estefani, as usual, arrived early and we were off to the Minas de Wanda mines under cloudy skies. The drive took about 45 minutes and I got to see the rural side of Argentina. There were no towns to speak of between Iguazú and Wanda, just jungle and the occasional hut or shack wedged in between the road and the jungle. The locals set up make-do vendor stands in front of their homes where they sold live plants, presumably dug up from the jungle. And many had "Camping" signs set out by the road but I would not consider staying at any of them regardless of price.

As we drew close to Wanda, we passed through the small village of Puerto Libertad. Their attempt at "freedom" though appeared to have failed as empty and crumbling buildings by far outnumbered the habitable and there was no commerce to be seen except for a hotel and a couple of restaurants. In short order though, we pulled into Wanda and it was only marginally more active than Puerto Libertad. I got the feeling that if it were not for the blessings of geology, Wanda would cease to exist.

There were two mining operations in Wanda and Estefani turned into the one on the left. This was not anything like the huge copper mines in Arizona, these were family-run operations who were able to exploit the unique characteristics of their land.

Millions of years ago, lava tubes ran through this area and as the flows hardened into basalt, mineral-rich waters were trapped in the molten rock, unable to escape from the intense heat and pressure. Those pockets eventually became independent geodes or just stand-alone pockets embedded in the rock as it hardens and the crystals that formed inside were determined by what minerals, and how much minerals were dissolved in the water. And experts do not agree on what minerals create which crystals. Some researchers believe that amethyst crystals, for example, are the result of iron concentrations, others attribute it to manganese.

I paid my 800 peso entrance fee and an English-speaking guide, another Sebastian, was assigned to the tour group - which consisted of me and Sebastian. We descended a few steps into an excavated area that exposed the ancient lava tubes. To the left were four caves dug out of the rock with iron gates over the opening securing the treasures inside - that's where the miners work.

Sebastian explained that when they mine for the crystals, they follow thin lines of quartz embedded in the basalt - follow those lines of quartz and you find the pockets containing the crystals. When that vein fades out, so do your chances of finding crystals. Some of the crystals, both in the pit and in the mines, were left in situ for display purposes. You could easily see how those veins of quartz would lead you to the crystals. And there weren't just crystals there. If the trapped mineral waters contained sufficient acidity, crystals would not form but agates would.

After inspecting the exposed lava tubes containing numerous crystal cavities and agates, some of considerable size, we entered the mines. Actually, we entered the mine as the four openings were interconnected. The spaces between the openings were intentionally left to provide support for the chambers so the roof would not collapse. In fact, there were several free-standing pillars in the mine at regular intervals performing that function.

Just as outside, several crystals were left in place so visitors could see how they emerge from the rock. Dim fluorescent tubes provided enough light to see your way and they also illuminated the dust in the air. The miners work 4-hour shifts and they wear eye protection but no masks to protect them from the dust. OSHA would not approve.

I noticed a pneumatic chisel on the floor but Sebastian said that most of the work is done by hand to preserve the integrity of the crystals. And sure enough, emanating from the back of the mine, you could hear the clank-clank-clank of hammer on chisel as the miner carefully worked the rock around a crystal so it could be extracted whole.

We emerged back into the daylight and Sebastian showed me the area where the artisans polished and worked some of the minerals into art objects which, of course, were for sale in the gift shop. Before leaving for the mine, I told myself I would not buy anything there, I wanted to go to the mine for the experience of seeing it, nothing more. Besides, my suitcase was packed pretty tightly and I had no room for souvenirs.  But in the showroom I saw a pocket, carved directly from the rock that had a high concentration of amethyst crystals.  Slightly bigger than my fist, that had the deepest purple, almost black, that I've ever seen in an amethyst. I picked up the stone to inspect it and put it back. The stone was calling to me and would not be denied. I repeated that action at least five times before I finally bought it.

Estefani was waiting for me when I emerged, we jumped in the taxi and we were off. We discussed visiting the ruins of San Ignacio, a Jesuit mission first established in the early 1600s, but it was over a 100 miles away - ok for a bus ride, but too expensive to go there by taxi. That trip will have to wait for another time.

A light rain started on the drive back to Iguazú and I was thankful I did all the falls trekking during the last couple of days. Although, as I thought about it, I was soaked with sweat while I hiked anyway so a little rainwater added to that wouldn't have made much difference to me. Maybe not so good for the camera gear though.

Estefani dropped me off at the hotel after 1:00 and we agreed on tomorrow's early pickup for the airport. I was feeling hungry so instead of waiting for the restaurant to open I went to the outdoor cafe, sheltered from the rain, and ordered a Hamburgesa Super and a beer. When the burger arrived I found out what made it Super - the cook layered on some jamon y queso on top of the beef patty.

My cash was running low - those taxi rides really start to add up after a few days - and there was nothing else nearby that I was yearning to see so I just retired to my room, calling it an early day. Besides, I wanted to prepare things for a smooth departure tomorrow. My eyes felt irritated and I just assumed it was because I spent a fair amount of time getting caught up on the daily musings. Once again, I was wrong.