A Different View

Monday 26 February

Fabiano was not collecting us until 10.00 this morning, so we had plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast, writing some postcards and collecting together all our belongings. It was another brilliantly sunny morning so we also spent some time on the balcony admiring the view. The wind must have been in a different direction today, as the cloud rising from the Falls was further downstream and much flatter than yesterday’s pillar escalating straight up from the Devils Throat.

We had booked out and were ready and waiting when Fabiano arrived. The road leading to Brazil appeared to be quite new, with hardly any traffic, and although the river acts as the border between the two countries, we had to drive 25 kms away from Iguazu to reach the crossing point. This was a very low key affair – a bit like a toll stop on the motorway. Fabiano took our passports on the Argentinean side and got us stamped out, while on the Brazilian side – a few kilometres up the road – we had to present them ourselves. The man in the booth literally took our entry forms and stamped them and the passports and gave them back – no checking or scrutinizing – he didn’t even look at the photos pages – Fabiano told us that they let anyone into Brazil!

We then had to drive the 25 kms back to the Falls, but now on the Brazilian side. We stopped at a large souvenir shop to exchange some money into Brazilian reals – their currency is about 4 reals to 1 GBP – before reaching the Brazilian National Park at Iguazu. Although the National Park has been in existence since 1939, a lot of money has been spent recently on building a huge modern wooden complex at the entrance, good roads and lots of double decker buses (air conditioned downstairs and no windows upstairs – where everyone sits) to carry visitors to the various sites for activities like trekking and rafting, to the hotel – their equivalent of the Sheriton on the Argentina side – and the Falls themselves. When we arrived, we followed a concrete pathway down through the forest catching glimpses of the waterfalls through the canopy of trees and stopping at various viewing points to take a few pictures. When we reached the end of the pathway we were about halfway between the top of the cliff and the bottom of the valley, on a platform stretching out over the river. It was amazing how different the view was from this side to what we had seen yesterday. We could wave to the people up on the Argentinean platform at the Devils Throat – perhaps because the clouds of spray were moving away in a different direction today. But we got just as wet as yesterday standing over the river as the water cascaded down all around us. It was noisy too – the continual boom of the water hitting the rocks at the bottom. Out at the very end of the platform, looking down, was a large arc of rainbow as the sun glinted through the water droplets. Several boats were edging their way towards the Devils Throat and under the neighbouring waterfalls right below us, and we could hear the screams of the people as they were drenched, just like our experience. Colin managed to walk almost to the end of the walkway and together we watched cormorants sunning themselves on rocks and huge flocks of black vultures flying overhead looking for a tasty meal – of visitor perhaps? Helicopters added to the noise flying over the area – one flying particularly low – just over our heads in fact – that was apparently filming the scene.

On the way down, I was wondering how long it would take me to walk back up – there were a lot of steps and it had been a long way down. But I needn’t have worried –a glass sided lift took us up to the top – passing huge spiders and their webs on the way - where there were shops and restaurants and the bus stop. We ate sandwiches looking out over the flat calm waters of the upper reaches of the river as it made its way to the Falls, a wide shallow stretch interspersed with rocks where storks and cormorants played in the sun. It did not seem possible that this quiet lazy river could become such a dramatic scene just a few metres downstream. Fabiano told us that last year, due to the lack of rainfall, there had been a time when the Devils Throat had been no more than a trickle, and the rest of the waterfalls were dry, and again there have been years when the waterfalls are just one continual curtain of water all around the cliffs. We felt privileged to have witnessed this amazing place.

The Falls were created by lava escaping through cracks in the earth’s surface as the tectonic plates moved 150 million years ago causing pressure underground – but there was no volcanic activity. At that time the falls would have been many kilometres downstream, but with erosion and other earth movements, the Falls have retreated to their present position.

We caught the bus back to the entrance where our driver was waiting. It was extremely hot by this time – about 13.30 – with temperatures in the top 30’s. Fabiano offered to take us the nearby Bird Park, where we could walk through aviaries and have birds sit on our shoulders (uggh) – at a cost of course – but we declined, feeling that we would hopefully see lots of birds in their natural habitat when we visited the Pantanal at the end of the week. We therefore went straight to the airport – not the one where we landed on Saturday, but the Brazilian version – just a terminal building and airstrip in the middle of the jungle. We booked in with no problems, and when we went through to the departure hall where I would have about three hours to blog, as boarding wasn’t until 17.15, we met up with Monica whose earlier flight had been delayed for an hour. Another flight – Gol Airlines to Rio – had also been delayed for more than two hours – so the waiting area was heaving with disconsolate travelers. We found a couple of seats, and settled down to pass the time. Eventually two planes arrived and most of the people exited the lounge – it was amazing that there were calls for missing passengers to board the Gol flight for more than half an hour, as some people seemed to be reluctant to travel, so that flight was further delayed – I am sure if that was Heathrow or Gatwick the plane would have just gone without them.

Linda and Mike and Harry and his ladies arrived as these planes were boarding. They were traveling on the same flight as us, but all staying at a different hotel – the same one as Monica. Just before 17.00 the electronic departures screen showed our plane would be delayed by an hour as well – another typical South American Airline – this time it was TAM. The batteries ran out on the computer, but I had managed to catch up with a few entries. There was a huge sigh of relief when at last our plane landed – the few shops had already closed for the day, as our plane was the last flight out tonight. The turnaround time was just half an hour and we were on our way again by 19.15. The flight to Rio took just over two hours, during which time we were served with a small packet of peanuts and a soft drink.

Another new guide – Marco – was at the gate to greet us, and quickly whisked us away through the brilliantly lit highways of Rio, passed the darker shanty towns on the hills, to the esplanade by the ocean. Rio seems to be built on the flood plain around a series of bays, with long sandy beaches, separated by high mountains – completely opposite to most cities where the wealthy citizens have moved out of the city centre to settle on the higher ground and the poorer ones stayed down. We passed the port where in a month’s time we would find our boat to cruise home. Our hotel was the Copacabana Palace, an Orient Express hotel, a large white colonial structure facing the famous beach – strange to think we visited the original Copacabana beach all those weeks ago when leaving Peru.

The hotel was very grand, with lots of highly polished mahogany wood, glistening chandeliers and white marble flooring. The staff all wore white suits embroidered with the gold motif of the Oriental Express Hotel chain. I think the lady on reception told us we had been booked a standard room facing the beach, but had been upgraded to a luxury room – or she might have been saying that we could upgrade further to a luxury room – we weren’t quite sure. But the room we were shown to was a large sumptuous square, with very tall ceilings – about 15 feet high - and a large Persian carpet in pink, navy blue and cream, covering the wooden floor. A huge bed, a small television, and chairs, desk and other furniture fitting in with the colonial style, completed the room. As we entered there was a large walk-in wardrobe in the corridor on one side, while through an extremely tall door (10 feet or more) on the other side we found the bathroom with a huge white “wallowing pit” (sorry Barbara), a separate walk-in shower, two wash basins and a loo in what could have one time been a cupboard. It was all very opulent and luxurious – and fabby.

We didn’t bother to unpack as it was after 22.30 now, but went down to the restaurant and sat outside by the giant Olympic size pool to enjoy a late snack – well that was the intention, but the food when it arrived was enormous. We were given appetizers of slices of smoked salmon and Parma ham, surrounding a selection of marinated mushrooms, with our cocktails – Tom Collins for Colin and Bloody Mary for me - my first since our time in Thailand, and it was almost as good as those in the Happy Elephant, coming complete with celery stick and lots of Tabasco. We had chosen – a beef sandwich with fries for Colin – although this arrived as a club chicken sandwich but still with fries (they were the main reason for his choice as he was still suffering withdrawal symptoms for chips), while I had a salad nicoise – complete with anchovies and quails eggs. There was a large basket containing about ten different breads too. Everything was very scrumptious. The next few days were not going to be cheap, but they definitely were going to be delicious.

Not wanting to go to bed straight after eating, we collected the computer from our room and a password from reception and sat around the pool to catch up on emails – the only place the WIFI works in the hotel. It was therefore after 01.00 before we settled down for the night – fortunately we were not meeting Marco until 10.00 tomorrow – or should that be today!

PS – My hair: ‘Honey coloured’ meant a similar shade to “Gales” honey, not platinum blonde, so my highlights are much darker than usual. Also it has become very wavy, even becoming frizzy at the front and sides when it is damp – like from the spray at the Falls! – and refuses to straighten. I never realized just how difficult curly hair could be!