asunción

The border crossing we took was through Ciudad Del Este (City of the East) which styles itself as a duty free mecca. More like a nasty, dirty little dust bowl of a place. A real feel of the wild west about it. And so I was in Paraquay. The continents second poorest nation. And boy, it shows. Having come from the relative affluence of Brazil, the roads are no more than dirt tracks and there is seemingly no infrastructure. Years of corruption has seen to that. And the politicians and rulers of Paraquay have an impressive record in cocking up everything and swindling everyone.

So after a bumpy, long 200km ride we arrived in Asuncion. We would stay two nights. It was nice to get back to a hotel, albeit a shared room. I immediately liked Asuncion as it felt and looked like a South American capital. The ladies all attired in traditional dress ( a big filly shirk, colourful shirts and a strange little undersized hat that sat to one side on their head). The blokes dressed like western knackers. The music, the atmosphere and smells. The city has some impressive colonial era buildings and given its compact size, the city is easily walked and explored.

My main priority was to sort out my camera. I found an outlet run by some old geezer called Adolfo Von Kliest or something like that. When I showed up, I tried my very poor Spanish but thankfully he sought to help me by asking whether I would prefer to speak German, English or Ukrainian . So you´re a Odessa file escapee´s, eh! I knew some of nazi´s had made their way to South America. But in fairness he did fix my camera for $50 (a months salary here but it saved me buying a new one) It´s maybe unfair to label him a nazi as he was probably a just a grunt or such like. I reckon he was elderly enough to have seen some action though. And he did have an authoritive teutonic air about him. So much so that I was expecting to hear him click his boots at any moment and then I would receive a slap across the face with a leather glove!

Given the camera repair chasing thing I didn´t get that long to enjoy the place that much. I would have prepared to stay longer but such flexibility is not part of an organised tour. So the following morning at 7am we set off again on the big yellow truck.

foz do iguaçu

After a couple of random Police bribe stops (they´re always at it here!) we reached our campsite in Foz. More camping. Boohoo! Quite a distance from the city too. Not even within walking distance. But another Brazil game beckoned. The driver (fast becoming my drinking companion) and I watched the game amid all the madness that is football in Brazil. I got pretty drunk. Another street party and more craziness by the Brazilians.

In our drunken revelry we also managed to have a brush (figure of speech) with the law. While waiting pointlessly for a taxi and singing loudly we attracted the attention of the local rozzer shop. Six of them bailed out and I couldn´t quite believe my eyes when one them rushed at me while pulling out a huge baton. He then whipped me across the back of the legs. We had done nothing. The driver got a lash too. Then they realised we were foreigners and told us to clear off. Disgusted, I walked a few feet and then decided it was unacceptable and that it was proper that I file a complaint. Fortunately the driver persuaded me that it would be a bad idea. I reckon they would have bashed me to death.

Later that night or should I say early morning, I managed to drop my camera about 10 feet from my tent. Then there was a huge storm. Rain, rain, rain. Poor camera. Neglected and abandoned to the elements. An expensive one too that I picked up in Toyko. It was only in the morning when setting off for our excursion that I realised what had happened to it. After a search about the tent and the surrounds, I found her, busted, drenched, unworkable. A real pain given I was about to see one of the wonders of the natural world.

The reason for our stop in Foz is the amazing waterfalls. These waterfalls are shared by three countries, Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina. There are actually 275 linked waterfalls spread out over 3 kilometers of cliffs 80 metres high. They are wider than Victoria Falls, higher than Niagara Falls. Even though the volume of water passing over them was quite low at the time I saw them, they still made for an incredible sight. We had a tour that took us on a boat just under the falls where we got soaked. But it was great fun.

The next day was spent viewing the falls from the Argentine side. Plus later seeing the largest hydro-electricity dam in the world. Lots of concrete. There is an exhibition centre with it peppered with lots of Brazilian boasting about their first world status. Apparently most of the statistics are fabricated and inflated. But it is huge. Huge.

The next significant journey was to make it to the border with Paraquay. But before the passing could take place we would ´free camp´. This term refers to finding a spot by the road and pitching the tents and cooking up some grub in the open. Just marvellous.

I am beginning to tire of camping.

bertioga

After a longish journey along the Brazilian coast we reached the coastal resort of Bertioga. Not far off São Paulo. I was a little put out that the mega-city of São Paulo failed to feature on my route but I knew what I signed up for after all. When the Portuguese arrived, they found the Tupi Indians, and they called the area "Buriquioca" (home of big monkeys). Even though the Portugese modified its named, I was intrigued to see a place where big monkeys reside. I like monkeys. All crazy and childlike! Regrettably it was a big disappointment.

Instead I had another dose of camping. Now I don't mind camping per se but unloading a tent, putting it up, then unloading the truck, cooking, washing up, putting it all back in the truck, all that physical stuff was beginning to irritate me. I am holiday after all. What´s all this stuff about work! I have paid good money for this! Particularly when I have noticed that my other two team mates are proper lazy swines and I feel that I carry a disproportionate load of the labour.

Bertioga has a long stretch of beach but little else. I can best describe it as a nothingness. Maybe it was the weather. Overcast. It just didn´t feel like South America. More like a dodgy Meditterean resort during downtime. Even getting to use the internet was a hassle . One needs identification, a national ID card (which I do not have) or a passport (which I refuse to carry about willy-nilly). Nuff said. Boring. Or maybe it was that I was tiring of having to get out of bed at 7am every morning. Or maybe it was because some of my fellow tour-ists are just boring too.

I like to sleep in. Lazy, me.