Showing posts with label Puerto Iguazu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Puerto Iguazu. Show all posts

April 02, 2009

Rainbows, waterfalls and butterflies...

...all we need now is Funshine Bear and we have the perfect setting for a sequel to 1987's The Care Bears Adventure in Wonderland.

For a 5 peso bus ride and a 60 peso admission charge (only 7 pesos if you are from Argentina or a neighbouring country!), we got to spend a day in Argentina's own slice of paradise – Iguazu National Park.

Located on the border of Argentina and Brazil, the Iguazu Falls are currently on their way to nabbing a spot on the New7Wonders of Nature list. And hiking through the jungle, stopping to take in the spectacular views, and taking a dip to escape the extreme humidity is a whole lot more fun than going to work, that's for sure!

The falls themselves were pretty damn amazing. The biggest, Devil's Throat, is loud, angry and powerful – and there are so many tourists around, we did well to get a couple of pics without random elbows, hats and bum bags protruding into our shot. It was also the site of my dramatic bee sting (because I have the uncanny ability to make the smallest events dramatic), which left me with a swollen leg and a wound that was leaking fluid for days (I exaggerate not).

The rest of the park is full of pretty-yet-less-impressive falls, butterflys galore and overpriced kiosks (20 pesos for a salad roll – tell him he's dreamin'!).

A day spent chasing waterfalls... TLC will not be impressed!

The glamorous – the flossy, flossy

Fergie may be sipping champagne up in the sky, but we've been sipping Coke and watching DVDs down on the road.

Introducing ' super cama', the first class of the Argentinian long-haul buses. Seats convert into flat beds, meals and drinks are served and DVDs are played. It's so much fun, we didn't want to get off after our 18-hour trip from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu. Best of all, it's only marginally dearer than a normal, run-of-the-mill coach, meaning we can squeeze a little luxury into our hostel-dwelling, backpack-hauling, bread-eating existence.

Fergie, eat your heart out!