Sao Paulo, Brazil

We arrived in Sao Paulo nice and early and right in the middle of rush hour. The cars arriving at the metro stop beneath the bus station were packed and we had to wait 3 or 4 trains until we could squeeze our bulky selves onto one. Off the metro y caminando around, it took the usual three tries to find a hotel that wasn´t abandoned or wicked expensive. Our hotel for $25.00 each for 2 nights was on the corner of pedestrianized streets and had 3 corner windows for us to lean out and people watch on the streets below. Our first day of sightseeing consisted of walking through a beautiful plaza, checking out the few remaining historic buildings the city holds, checking out a 360* view of the lego land looking city from the top of a skyscraper and walking passed many smelly homeless encampments to one of the biggest markets I have ever seen. Just as Tony (Anthony Bourdain - No Reservations!) had ventured before, we too ventured to the busiest vendor for the ginormous y local favorite Mortadella Sandwich (yes, I capitalized it.) Previous visual encounters of mortadella made me anticipate passing on this experience until I saw sandwich after greasy sandwich pass by as we fought our way to the front to place our order. Stuffed between a baguette with cheddar, shredded lettuce y bacon is 2.5inches of thinly sliced, delicious Mortadella. We stood shoulder to shoulder at the bar to eat and sadly could only finish half. We waddled out of the market passed stalls of fruit, dried cod, cheese wheels, suckling pigs hanging by their feet, ears y testicles and spent the rest of the afternoon getting lost. We walked around the crowded streets in the hot, hot sun looking for the immigrant museum we never found. Exhausted and hot we ate dinner at a sidewalk meat stand, places we would eat at for 4 meals during our 2 day stay due in part to how delicious and inexpensive they were (2 for $1.50US!) Pork y peppers are thickly layered and stabbed to cook slowly all day on a vertical spit as the chef spins it round and shaves off a little from each side with each customer. Shoved into a crispy roll and topped with a fresh salsa of tomato y onion, he hands it over for you to add the condiments. Mayo, salt y salsa picante are your first choice but after one bite you learn all that´s required is the homemade hot sauce. Unbelievably hot, worth the burn. To bed we went after some spying and muted Woody Woodpecker cartoons. Just as we begin to snooze a band strikes up below our window. Tired, we fall asleep anyway listening to the singer belt out his off key tunes.

I awake bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6:00AM after 11 hours of needed rest. Grumpy here soon follows suit and I let him ease into his day while I opt for a cold shower. Ready for the day at 7:30 we forget about previous days rush hour and obliviously head straight back in. This go around is much worse as we get on where 2 lines cross. It´s ridiculous and we hold the line up ever more snapping photos of the sea of people. Being crammed turns into being shoved up against the people in front of us as the train approaches and a wave of pressure swells up from the back. This happens over and over until you´re finally near the doors where people press firmly against the train to avoid being shoved to where there is no room or onto the track. Alive after that experience we walk down Ave Paulista which isn´t all it´s cracked up to be but does house a thick, tropical jungle park to hide out in, wander around some more, eat more sandwiches and by noon find ourselves done way to early. We opt to journey in search of the immigrant museum once more and success awaits us this go around. After, we wander some more, hide out at a tenador libre while the sky turns black yellow and pours down rain, and go to bed - but not before listening to the neighborhood band jam out another night.

Asuncion, Paraguay

In a few days we neared the end of our time in Paraguay. After a 5hr bus through green hillsides dotted with white oxen of some breed we arrived in Asuncion on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Taking the guide books advice we opted for a taxi instead of walking to our hostel where upon exiting we were bombarded with a man who wanted a tip for opening my door, and a dirty woman and her baby begging me for the change the cab driver handed over. Our fortress of a hostel had grand, high ceilings, tile floors, huge rooms and a large common area that was half outside, half inside. I wondered why anyone would stay in hotels when you have the opportunity to stay in countless, neat, old mansions. Wanting to eat before dark we set out for the diner a few streets down and walked by a plaza turned homeless shantytown with skinny walkways between numerous plastic bag tents and dirty clothes drying on knotted together string lines. We ate at the diner where the food was amazing, as we´re finding all Paraguay food to be, and went back to watch La Lea y Orden and go to bed, grateful I had bed, room and blanket instead of a plastic bag tent.

We awoke extra early the next morning due to the time change we weren´t aware of and slowly got ready to head out. With nothing in particular we wanted to do we wandered from plaza to plaza and in and out of hammock and lace stores (of which I wanted to buy every last piece however heavy they would be to carry, but resisted and kept my fingers crossed that Rio would be full of similar treasures.) We frequently the diner again for lunch which was busy once again and had delicious regional soups of meat and fish with heavy, fresh bread. The whole afternoon was sat people watching in the plaza until dinner at the diner where we enjoyed our last Paraguayan meal, sad to be leaving the cuisine behind.

Market of the South - Ciudad del Este, Paraguay

We packed up and left the crappy city of Foz de Iguacu, Brazil for a visit to the Itaipu Dam. Once there, we watch an informative video and got on the tour bus where they told us that the weather was so bad you couldn´t see anything and if we wanted we could leave now and get our money back. Nate still wanted to go and I didn´t care so we went. It was alright and over pretty quickly as there really wasn´t that much to ooh and ahh over through the fog. After, we hopped a public bus to the aduana and hit immigration to Paraguay just before the mass of people behind us did and got it with no problem after walking across the bridge the guide book recommended not to. And I can see why as you could easily be thrown over in a robbery, especially at night. As it was daylight, fairly guarded by police and full of people we thought it okay. Greeting us on the other side was a hill jam packed with street vendors that we tried to avoid until after we ditched our backpacks. We had lunch at a delicious buffet and walked all through streets and streets of markets. After another successful dinner from a street cart we went to bed.

Though I didn´t really see the point in coming to Paraguay and paying $60USD for a visa to visit for a few days, I am glad we came. Like all corrupt, poor places there is something different, real and more alive about the place and the people who live there. They are friendly, everyone is out, it´s busy and crowded and they look after each other and it just feels.. different. That morning we walked out of the crowds through green, green parques to catch our bus to Asuncion, Paraguay.

water, water every where

Iguaca Falls - Brazil

It stormed the poured all night and we awoke the next morning during the worst of it. Not wanting to waste a day and checking the forecast only to find more rain we decided to brave the weather. When there was a slight break we made for the urban bus terminal purchasing cheap umbrellas from a tienda who had dusted them off and brought them out from somewhere in the back. 2 buses and 1 visitor center later we were dropped off in the pouring rain. With no other choice we started down the path. We walked through lush, green, fresh jungle, turned a corner and there they were. Through the mist and fog, loud and everywhere we looked were waterfalls. Our umbrellas did the job and pretty soon it didn´t matter that it was raining. The walkway on the Brazil side is brief and soon we were standing at the entrance to the Devil´s Throat, the portion that goes right out over the middle of the falls. Afraid of the spray and rain from the fall above rather than the roar of the rushing water below, sans a poncho we only made it half way out before we got soaked and our umbrellas flew inside out.

Iguazu Falls - Argentina

The 2nd day out to the falls was rain free and cloudy. We hopped 2 buses over to Argentina for one last time to find a mass of people waiting to enter the park. Once in we opted for the lower trail as everyone else headed for the upper one. The trail involved some hiking and it was great to be out in the middle of the jungle. The views from this side were much better and we agreed we would have been disappointed if we went to Argentina first and Brazil second. We spent most of the day there as opposed to 1hr over on the Brazilian side. Most of the walkways in Argentina took you right up to the falls from every angle and it was really amazing. To get to the island in the middle of the parque you climb down the hillside, mountainside really, over rocks to where men sit waiting in their boats. If you pay extra they take you whipping down the river right under the waterfalls where everyone was coming off soaked. We chose to just putt across to the island to hike some more. After the lower circuit we got sandwiches and sat in the lunch pavilion where while Nate was running from bees a cuati (fearless little creatures) jumped onto our table and stole his sandwich. With Nate pissed and me hysterical we did the upper trail and went home after a good, tiring day. For dinner we got delicious, wicked cheap sandwiches from a cena truck outside our hotel of frango, jamon, queso, lechuga, peas, corn, mayo... that we both got to enjoy.

Covering Ground

In the morning we stepped out onto her porch as light was just starting to break, sad to be leaving. We caught the sunrise over the ocean and then the bus along with a few students in uniform. We soon found out as the bus kept stopping and more and more students overflowed the seats filling the entire length of the aisle that the 7:50AM bus to Chuy was also the school bus for every kid in town. They were off before too long and the rest of the ride went quickly. Thankfully the bus stopped for us at the Uruguay immigration office outside of town (which the guide book threatened they didn´t) and we got off the bus in Chuy with Brazil literally across the street and Uruguay behind us.
Trusting the guide book (for some reason) we bypassed looking for a Brazilian bus station and started walking the 1km to the Brazilian border (because the guide book also said that buses didn´t stop there either.) 4km later we got our passports stamped. They asked us how we got there and laughed when we said we walked. With no other choice we started walking the 4km back to town when a taxi whizzed by, picked us up and took us right to the correct bus station. We had a decent meal before boarding and at 8:30 that night, arrived in Puerto Allegra. With everything in Portuguese it took us longer than usual to figure things out. Thankfully we found a ticket counter just in time and hopped on the last overnight bus to Cascavel, Brazil just as it was pulling away. At 9 the next morning we made our last connection to Foz de Iguaca, Brazil where upon entering our cheap, sleazy room, we promptly crashed.

Punta del Diablo, Uruguay

As we approached Punta del Diablo I was excited to see it was as ¨scarcely developed¨as the guide book promised. Although the hillsides are filling up with houses there is no bank in town, y not a store in sight except family businesses run out of beach shacks. We were dropped off and left alone as the bus left us in a cloud of dust. There was a woman at the ¨bus station¨and a woman in a mercado but they pretty much ignored us. Believing nothing to be open we got snacks at the mercado, checked out the bus schedule (with surprisingly frequent service) y set out down a dirt path in search of anywhere to stay or pitch a tent. At this point I was really hoping to find somewhere as I was quite taken by the remoteness of this beautiful place we were lucky enough to happen upon. Right up against the ocean amidst long stretches of pristine beach we walked among what we found out later to be the original fisherman settlement. Silly, windblown, picturesque, Dr. Seuss houses jumbled together along a sandy foot path. We eventually came out at the main dirt road where a tourist office was open! Apparently, everywhere else in town forgets to take down their "Abierto!" "50 meters mas!" and arrow signs in the winter. The lady there gave us the names of two hostels that should be open and as we set out once more we ran into the lady that owned one of them. The nice, friendly, English speaking woman led the way to her new, little hostel with enormous deck that overlooked the ocean. We dropped our bags and she showed us her secret path right down to the beach where 2 restaurants were open, their menus heavily influenced by the sea. The central beach is filled with small, wooden fishing boats still in use and hauled in and out of the ocean by old fashioned cranks. We re-walked through the original fisherman settlement and out along the shell covered beach. Crossing back through town we stopped for lunch y walked it off down the other end of the beach. We walked to a point as far as we could see from town only to turn the corner to have it unveil another endless, perfect, undeveloped stretch that we could have walked along into the night but decided to turn back. We went early to bed after a beautiful day, sharing a bottom bunk with the wind howling and the moon shining brightly in our window.

La Paloma, Uruguay

We arrived in La Paloma, Uruguay after dark, sans una mapa y sans anyone to ask for help as the bus station was deserted. We followed a dog down a path to the street where we picked a road, any road, and walked into the silent, deserted town. Along the way I saw a human! and asked her where the park was where we were planning on camping near the beach. She said it was closed in the winter and gave us directions to some hotels. Following her directions we walked down the main avenue to a beach y back finding only wicked expensive places to stay. Don´t they know this is the off season? We thought we´d try our luck at the park and see if we could sneak in which was impossible. Luckily, there was signs for a hostel which we followed to a cozy, lit place with a man y a woman inside who were surprised to see us, or anyone for that matter. They were very nice and very welcoming providing us a heater for a our nice room with TV y bano privado, the use of their personal computer y internet connection y a fresh assortment of pastries from the panaderia in la manana. Kindness is much appreciated when traveling through foreign lands. With the campground closed y the whole place simply out of our budget we walked through the wonderfully smelling pine forest back to the bus station and headed east along the coast to Punta del Diablo.