Still not fully rested, but having had a better sleep on the bus than the previous two nights, we rolled with the punches and caught a taxi from the station to our hostel, Hostel Inn Suites. The humidity was out of control and as soon as we checked in, it was straight to the pool for a rather warm, but still welcome swim. During buffet dinner Dan funnily enough ran into the girl he’d sat next to on the plane from Sydney (which occurred again the following night at a different hostel.)Our room that night had only three beds and a private bathroom, along with being blessed with aire-acondicionado. Calling an early night, things were all sweet until Dan jinxed us, joking that someone would show up in the middle of the night to claim the other bed and end up snoring. Sure enough….I was close to tearing my hair out at this point and had to laugh or else I’d cry. Sleep it seemed was just not on the menu.

We checked out early the next day as we were moving hostels, and storing our bags, got a bus over to the Brazilian side of Iguazu falls (Cataratas de Iguazu). Walking along the track above the river, stunning waterfalls could be seen across the other side, becoming more impressive as we worked our way up the trail. Though most of the some 275 indivdual falls, are on the Argentinian side, the Brazilian side gives a great panoramic view of the cataratas. Near the end of the trail however is where it becomes truly amazing as you approach the Garganta Do Diablo or Devil’s Throat. Throw every superlative at them and you still might miss the mark. The sheer volume of water crashing over this particular water fall is mesmerizing, enhanced by walking onto the catwalk in front that not only gives incredible views but allows for a nice soaking from the spray to cool off.

With the sun out there were also many colourful rainbows arcing over the tops of the individual waterfalls. With Desmond having made a premature appearance, to the amusement of the hordes of Argentinian and Brazilian weekend visitors, he was partly inflated again for some headshots in from of the Devil’s Throat. The final piece of the trail led right up to the side of the Devil’s Throat, almost to within touching distance, and it was easy to get lost just staring and cascading water.

With a sense of satisfaction for finally having seen something worthy of bringing the camera out, we headed back to the park entrance and debated whether we would make the complicated journey to Foz Do Iguacu (the Brazilian town) to book our onwards bus tickets at the Rodovario. With the sun sending the mercury close to 40, it was an easy decision, there was time to worry about that later. So we instead caught the bus back across the border, anxiously waiting to see if we would have to pay the $100USD entry fee to get into Argentina again (thankfully we didn’t!)

Unable to book it the previous night we moved over the Hostel Inn at Iguazu (Argentinian side) for what turned out to be quite the experience. We arrived drenched in sweat after walking from the hostel up the road with our packs in the searing heat. Rated as one of the best, if not the best hostel, in South America, it was easy to see. At the front of the hostel was a massive pool filled with beer drinking travelers like out of a college Spring-break movie. The reception area was flanked by a big open restaurant and bar on one side, and pool tables, couches, foosball and computers on the other. Struggling to handle the influx of people checking in, there were bags strewn everywhere and travelers and hostel alike dripping in sweat around the reception desk. A woefully inefficient check in system saw us line up, give our reservation details, get put on a list and called back two hours later to pay and be given our key. Bizarre. We didn’t let it phase us however, instead grabbing a bite to eat in the restaurant and just soaking it all in. After check –in we grabbed some beers and headed to the pool, catching up with a group we’d seen at the falls earlier, who were heading to BA that evening. Once again we were eager for any travel tips as they had already come down through Colombia, Ecuador Peru and Bolivia.

Mealtime saw us at the buffet again with one of our roommates, a travel agent from Melbourne who although lovely, seemed rather disorganized for a travel agent. (The first clue being that her friends had gone ahead because she hadn’t yet organised her Brazilian visa)

After dinner the party scene started to kick off a bit and we ended up drinking with a big group of predominantly Aussies. Turned out the Superbowl was on, so I chatted away to a couple from Pittsburgh who were watching it and was stoked to see the Saints win it as underdogs. Time began to fly by as everyone in the hostel participated in the general revelry and we ended up having a few drinks with some Israelis that were staying in our room. Between Aussies and Israelis that night, there wasn’t much room left at the hostel for other nationalities. All in all, a fun night and good to finally unwind a bit and have a few drinks.

The next day however was absolute hell. Got up early to try and book an onward bus to no avail, then headed up to see the Argentinian side of the falls. Once again it was a scorcher , and the yellow public El Practico buses were a sauna. I did well not to lose my breakfast on the ride up. We caught the train at the park up to the top of the falls first having to change trains midway, and I gradually perked up a bit as we walked out to the top of the Devil’s Throat waterfall. Again it was an awesome image to behold, and easy to see why the books recommend viewing the falls from both sides. With the Argentinian experience you get to just stare down from right at the top of the falls into the abyss below. I must have spent five or ten minutes rooted to the spot just staring into the tumbling water, though the previous nights drinking may have also had some impact on my immobility.

A group of Argentinian school kids engaged us on the way back to practice their English skills, quite amazing for 11 or 12 year olds compared to my paltry Spanish. This helped pass the time as we waited for the train down to the other trails. By this stage I was feeling a lot better and Dan was taking a turn for the worse. My rise in fortune no doubt served to accelerate his demise. There were a few interesting things to see along the Paseo Superior and Paseo Inferior particularly the wildlife, amazingly colourful butterflys, capuchin monkeys and coatis (raccoon like food thieves with sharp claws), but by now the falls were getting a little played out.

We grabbed lunch while I nervously eyed off a big thunderstorm brewing. Just as we hopped on the train at the mid-station it hit, with full force and fury. If only we hadn’t had stopped for lunch… hey DAN! Everyone on the train took it well, laughing as we were absolutely saturated by rain hurled at us in gale-force bursts of wind. By the time we got to the bus stop there was no point in trying to stay dry, and we all gratefully tumbled onto the bus like drowned rats.

Back at the hostel it was a dream to have a hot shower and get into dry clothes. We still hadn’t booked our bus that night to Curitiba and we could see online that seats were filling up fast. Grabbing our packs we made another dash through the rain into a cab and managed to reach a very reasonable price with the cabbie to take us all the way to the Brazilian Rodovario (bus station). The cab driver was a champ, and told us his cab was his classroom for learning English, though he already spoke it very well, and helped us with a few Portuguese phrases. As we crossed seamlessly through customs on either side and headed towards the station, it was easy to see just how painful the bus crossing between Argentina and Brazil would have been, particularly in the rain, as it required three different bus changes.