A Tail of Two Waterfalls

24/08/2016: The thing about Paraguay is that it's not made for tourists. We knew this before we came here so we can't complain. That doesn't stop us complaining though. For example: if, like we do (loser veggies can't eat anywhere and everywhere) you search online for places to eat, a vague description on a website full of clip art will tell you which two streets the restaurant is between, and if you're lucky you’ll have a photo of the sign you can look out for when you're out trying to hunt it down. This evening we were on the hunt for a place called Don Chaco's. We had no idea what kind of food it served (probably pizza), nor the price range (it's never not cheap here), but we dropped a pin and headed out. Villarrica is set out in a grid system, like a wordsearch, but one for kids, so not that many blocks -luckily- as they all look very similar. When we got to Don Chaco's square he was nowhere to be found, which was as frustrating as not being able to solve a wordsearch made for kids. We did, however, find a little pizza (surprise) place called Veronica's and had a great, supercheap, dinner with a mystery sauce, which turned out to be mustard under a different name. There was no WiFi there but, like good little addicts to Mr Internet, especially Captain Google (pronounced googley here) we tried to connect anyway, and whose network did we find? Only the illusive Don Chaco's. About halfway through our meal the manager of the restaurant slinked off in her car. I can only assume that she was Veronica and she knew we were onto her. If I had more time, I'd like to launch an investigation into what she did with Don Chaco’s body when she killed him and stole his pizza ovens.

Not unlike Don Chaco's are the waterfalls, which are all over this region and one of which (the easiest, the cheapest, the most accessible, any!) we wanted to visit. We’d read bits and bobs online, been shown pictures of them in a fancy booklet we weren't allowed to keep by the receptionist of our hotel, but no one could tell us how to reach one.

Last night though, we hit gold when a local business owner drew us a map on the back of an order pad, told us to disregard anything googley told us, then took a photo of us playing backgammon in her bar. She posted the pic on Facebook “England vs. Holland in backgammon.” (This happens a lot as “Irlanda” sounds a little like “Holanda”. Pól should just give up and be Dutch, they do have a great public education system in the Netherlands.)

So today we took the colectivo (bus) to a town full of German Mennonites and their descendants, and found the path that would lead us to the Salto Suizo (Swiss Waterfall). The woman in the bar had promised us a walk of no more than an hour, the sign said three, and we didn't have six hours before the last micro (also bus) back to Villarrica. Plus we’re quite lazy. So we headed down another track, where a sign told us the Salto Pa’i (Pa’i waterfall) was somewhere in that direction. Googley served us well as we could see we were more or less following a stream and the road took us through a community of small farms where we saw chickens (for eggs, I'm sure), cows (they drink lots of milk here) pigs (bacon) and lots of washing hanging out to dry. It was very hot, the road was baked mud which was cracking in the heat and we almost had to turn back when Pól discovered I'd accidentally bought fizzy water instead of normal, “it’s not even refreshing!” (I was secretly very happy.) The countryside was pretty, but I repeat, we’re quite lazy and were about to give up hope when two guys on a tractor told us the falls were just up ahead, and indeed they were. Behind the trees, a little stream dropped about a metre into a dark pool of icy water which we were both too chicken to swim in. But it was peaceful, and made all the more beautiful because we’d managed to find it: despite the lack of tourist information we were two tourists doing tourism. And what (for me, cheapduck2016) was the tippetytop was that we’d only paid 10,000 guaranís to get there (about 1.60: a proposal to introduce a new guaraní where 1 new one was worth 1,000 of the old ones was dropped due to a fear of confusing the population, they prefer to confuse the tourists as there aren't that many).

It may have been small, but it was ours.

"Excuse me, I can't see the waterfall. Could you move?"

I contrast this experience with our time at Iguazu, where you pay the same amount but in dollars just to get into the park (not really 10,000$ but anything more than a tenner is considered steap by cheapduck2016). I’m not implying the entrance fee is not worth the experience, much less so: watching water plunge 80 metres over almost 3km of cliff is a lot of fun, and the position of the different walkways means you never stop saying “oooh”, thinking you've seen the best view and then finding out you're wrong, and getting philosophical about just how small humans are in comparison with the magnitude of Nature and her effortless strength... You may also spend a lot of the time needing a wee, as I did.

The waterfalls occur on the Iguazú river (Iguazú means big water. They were named by the seagull from Watership Down) which runs along the border between Brazil and Argentina. There are a lot of rivers around here which follow country borders, and mountain ranges come to think of it. That's handy. The falls are on the Argentinian side of the river, so from the Brazil parks the views are great. We got off the bus: ponchoed up, camera in hand, in full agreement with what Eleanor Roosevelt had said on seeing the falls for the first time. “Poor Niagra.” After a few minutes of wowing at the falling water I realised we were only at the very beginning and there was a whole lot more falling water down the road. We followed the path along the top of the ravine, Pól was so impressed and excited he lifted the selfie ban and took a number of photos of our windwhipped faces poking out of our plastic hoods and ruining the view behind. At the bottom of the ravine we could see idiots in boats being driven (sailed?) under the falls themselves. We immediately decided to take that boat when we visited the Argentinian side. We had to wait a couple of days for the rain to stop (it's important that when you're going to pay 30€ to get completely wet that you begin the experience dry) and this gave us chance to to pop over to Ciudad del Este in Paraguay and acquire the aforementioned fake GoPro (NoGo). Popping from one country, across a second and into a third and back in a day: incredible! If only an agreement like that existed between the countries on the other side of the Atlantic. It does? Oh. So why is the my country not in it? Ah, yes, of course. Brits prefer to stay out of foward-looking projects which promote peace and unity between nations. #imtalkingaboutschengennottheeu

When the day of the Argentinian falls arrived we were desperate to leave our leaky hostel behind, and Pól was desperate to get his selfie on. Over in Argentina your view of the falls is more from above or directly next to the falls (liquid monoliths) which either fall away beneath your feet like a falling ipad, or tower above you like an angry boyfriend when you're bending down to pick up the (now broken) iPad.* We ruined lots of lovely views with our stupid faces, and gradually made our way down to the boat-loading station. Out on the river the noise was incredible, and I really needed to pee. I mentioned before that the boat ride was quite costly so I would point out that if you're an even frugaler traveller than I am, you can easily recreate the experience at home.

Step 1: put a plastic garden chair in your under your shower (if you don't have a shower, ask a friend to hold a washing-up bowl of cold water a metre and a half above the chair).

Step 2: put on a plastic poncho or similar waterproof garment. If you're feeling adventurous, don't.

Step 3: sit on the chair.

Step 4: turn on the shower (cold setting) or punch friend in the stomach.

For even more authenticity you could place a fan on the windowsill and ask some more friends to stand close by and say “whoop” a lot. As for the visible aspect, I didn't see a thing as my eyes were full of water.

So, as you can see, the Iguazú Falls are a little different from the Salto De Pa’i, but I'd say they're equally worth visiting. Five stars for both.

*Pól was not angry when I dropped my iPad and shattered the screen. He does, however, appreciate the the need for poetic licence in this particular similie.