Collect my newly repaired Tevas and then Christi and I board a fast bus to our next destination, Puerto Iguazu. The bus drivers in this part of Argentina have clearly been affected by the incessant tropical heat and watching too much Nascar, because they drive erratically and they drive fast. Having said that we still arrive late into Puerto Iguazu, but we are alive as we take the checkered flag.
Accommodation in this town is hard to come by in our price range (somewhere between beggar and pauper) and the only availability is a dorm bed at the Marcopolo Inn. Fortunately, the inn is directly across from the bus station, which means we don’t have to lug our bags too far. This is just as well because the heat and humidity around here are fierce. We dump our bags in room 8 (a 5-bed dorm) and begin our exploration of the town. For a premier tourist destination it is surprisingly compact and low-key. There is nothing to suggest that one of nature’s greatest natural wonders, Iguazu Falls, is just up the road. After organizing transport to the falls for tomorrow, we look for ways to escape the heat. Not surprisingly, the siesta is alive and well in Puerto Iguazu (I mean who has the energy to do anything here?) and there’s not much open. We eventually find a restaurant, Cafe Bonafide, which has its air-con set to arctic, which is sheer bliss. I almost feel we’re back in Tierra del Fuego. Cafe Bonafide is actually more of a chocolate shop than restaurant, but the staff do rustle up some sandwiches in addition to the delicious tiramisu we order. It amazes me that in this steamy climate, cafe Bonafide proudly offers hot tea, coffee, and chocolate and people are buying it. We stick to ice-cold coca cola, which is damn refreshing.
We plan to devote the next few days to exploring Iguazu Falls so the remainder of today is consigned to doing chores, most notably continuing our frustrating attempts to organize future activities in Venezuela, travel to Colombia, and, in two months from now, flights to Accra, the capital of Ghana (in West Africa). Fail miserably. Perhaps it is the destinations I’m choosing, but US-based companies want nothing to do with Venezuela, Colombia, let alone most of Africa. Resolve to make my next vacation destination Hawaii – just kidding! The day is somewhat rescued by a delightful dinner of lamb stew (Christi) and roast pork (me). We then return reluctantly to the cozy 5-bed dorm room, where our dorm mates are all snoring contentedly.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale.
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