After a lovely last day in Salvador sunning ourselves on a schooner touring some islands in the bay we arrived in Foz do Igaucu yesterday for some waterfall fun and games. We spent the afternoon looking at the thundering Igaucu falls on the Brazilian side and this morning headed for the Argentinian side where you can get up close and personal with some of 175 waterfalls and stand above the devil´s throat, a mesmerising arc of relentless water. Well, that was the plan.
We cruised out of Brazil, crossed the river to Argentina whilst I sang the first of many refrains of ¨Don´t Cry For Me Argentina¨(this will replace ´The Girl From Ipanema´ which has been on the internal duke box for the past three weeks) and presented ourselves at immigration. The guy in the kiosk stamped our passports and we passed to the next guy who was checking cars for imported electronics, drugs, pet monkeys stored in the boot etc. After a brief chat with him in which we understood not one word but in which we bleated repeatedly ¨soy britanico/a¨ he issued a word back in portugese which I did understand ´voltar´. Go back.
Our taxi driver, without comment zoomed back towards Brazil and handed us some re-entry forms. At this point we began to protest to him to take us back again. ¨But we are British¨, we said indignantly to each other, as the British do so well. The taxi driver reluctantly turned around and went into the main office to argue our case. After lots of shouting and waving of arms between our taxi driver and a guy on the desk the manager was called and he waved us through saying of course we could enter. We got in the car and tried again. We were refused. We were given no explanation. He didn´t even find the monkey.
Mike and I, international refugees in the making, came up with a cunning plan to circumvent the system. The taxi driver could drive through and we could simply walk through and meet him at the other side. It worked. We spent a day in Argentina as illegal immigrants and successfully made it back to Brazil for dinner in one piece. We are going to Argentina again next week, via the slightly circuitous route of Paraguay and Uruguay and we can try our luck with the Argentinian immigration officials once more.
And the falls? Amazing. The sun shone, the water sparkled, we walked for miles to see the many little falls that make up the whole. We stood awestruck peering down into the devil´s throat, we took a boat up the base of one of the falls and got sprayed with a huge wall of water which wet us through to the underwear in seconds. We had a blast. Tomorrow the Uruguayan border - wish us luck.
We cruised out of Brazil, crossed the river to Argentina whilst I sang the first of many refrains of ¨Don´t Cry For Me Argentina¨(this will replace ´The Girl From Ipanema´ which has been on the internal duke box for the past three weeks) and presented ourselves at immigration. The guy in the kiosk stamped our passports and we passed to the next guy who was checking cars for imported electronics, drugs, pet monkeys stored in the boot etc. After a brief chat with him in which we understood not one word but in which we bleated repeatedly ¨soy britanico/a¨ he issued a word back in portugese which I did understand ´voltar´. Go back.
Our taxi driver, without comment zoomed back towards Brazil and handed us some re-entry forms. At this point we began to protest to him to take us back again. ¨But we are British¨, we said indignantly to each other, as the British do so well. The taxi driver reluctantly turned around and went into the main office to argue our case. After lots of shouting and waving of arms between our taxi driver and a guy on the desk the manager was called and he waved us through saying of course we could enter. We got in the car and tried again. We were refused. We were given no explanation. He didn´t even find the monkey.
Mike and I, international refugees in the making, came up with a cunning plan to circumvent the system. The taxi driver could drive through and we could simply walk through and meet him at the other side. It worked. We spent a day in Argentina as illegal immigrants and successfully made it back to Brazil for dinner in one piece. We are going to Argentina again next week, via the slightly circuitous route of Paraguay and Uruguay and we can try our luck with the Argentinian immigration officials once more.
And the falls? Amazing. The sun shone, the water sparkled, we walked for miles to see the many little falls that make up the whole. We stood awestruck peering down into the devil´s throat, we took a boat up the base of one of the falls and got sprayed with a huge wall of water which wet us through to the underwear in seconds. We had a blast. Tomorrow the Uruguayan border - wish us luck.
Click here for photos of Brazil and the falls
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1 comment:
Got to get one of those "duke boxes", Sarah ....! Does it mainly play regimental tunes, typically played when assuming control of a country or .. ?!
-= D & K
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