Paraguay and Iguazú

So I spent six days in Paraguay… 

It’s a country with seven million people, and 700 million palm trees. The pope just visited in July, and I don’t think they’ve totally recuperated yet (my visit has received less publicity). They have a Hard Rock Cafe in Asunción, and some of the worst traffic i have ever seen. There is a colony of Mennonites in the Western portion of the country, and it’s hard not to giggle when you see them. In the Eastern portion they have some ruined missions. That’s pretty much Paraguay. Oh yeah, like their Southern neighbors in Argentina they prefer mayonnaise in bags.

One of the charming things about Paraguay is that several of its major cities are named for weird Catholic metaphysics: Concepción, Encarnación, Asunción. They call Encarnación the “Pearl of the South” and Concepción is the “Pearl of the North.” The fact that the country is land-locked helps to explain this; they obviously don’t know a great deal about pearls.

What’s most odd is that the second largest city in Paraguay is called Ciudad del Este. Seems to me that someone is confused about naming. "Ciudad del Este" isn’t a name, it’s a statement specifying a location. If you asked me my name and I replied, “Person Standing Right Here,” you would assume I misunderstood the question, or maybe I’m doing a comedy routine. And it’s not like there’s a shortage of weird Catholic concepts they could have used. Several options come to mind, Transubstanción would have been interesting, or they could have gone all in with something like Gran Superstición.  ...Actually, best of all would have been Crucifixión because Ciudad del Este is one of those forlorn border towns where you go to die, or buy cheap electronics. Didn’t Christ say something about looking out for a good deal on a black market computer? (Some of my liturgical knowledge is a bit rusty. In fact, I’m not even certain I’m using the word “liturgical” correctly. I don’t ever recall using it before. Writing is kind of a weird thing; sometimes words come into my head that I don’t even recognize.)

I suppose if the Paraguayans read this, they will revoke my visa so let me mention that I did stay in an interesting hotel in Paraguay on a farm school outside Concepción. In fact, I asked if I could walk around and they give me a tour. They have 72 resident students between the ages of 17 and 22. They live there for two years and they learn about raising animals and crops and running a hotel. They attend classes, but they also do all the work. It seemed to me like a great project. If I’m not mistaken it was started by someone with a bit of money and an idea to help poor kids in the area. I hope it has a long and prosperous future.

After Paraguay I visited Iguazú. Iguazú Falls (Iguaçu in Portuguese) are among the largest water falls in the world, and arguably the most dramatic. It was on the small list of places I definitely planned to visit. I first became aware of the falls watching the 1986 movie The Mission, and I wondered where they were and why I didn’t know about them. They’re on the border between Argentina and Brazil, but I don’t know why they’re not more famous. Both countries have small National Parks dedicated to the falls, and as you read in every internet description, the Brazilian and Argentinian experiences are vastly different, and both worthwhile.

Iquazú is roughly U-shaped (I wrote the same thing about Machu Picchu, but it’s true for both), and the bulk of the water pours in through the bottom of the U in a Niagara-like show of power. But where Niagara offers mainly one monolithic vista, Iguazú features as many as 300 additional falls. Most of them are on the Argentinian side of the U, and the exact number actually depends on the water flow which varies by season. In fact, Iguazú is a rather complicated place, and that’s part of what makes it interesting and attractive. You can’t take it in in a single glance. The Argentinian side is actually a maze of trails. You quickly become jaded, but it occurred to me that many of the smaller falls would be the feature attraction at most parks in Texas. 

It doesn’t hurt the presentation that the local flora is jungle-esque, or that the designers ignored any sort of concern about violating nature. They built trails and platforms and even an elevator right into the heart of the space. Of course, I shouldn’t forget the rainbows; they were a thoughtful addition. (Did you know that rainbows come in circles? I’d never seen this phenomenon before, but looking down from the Brazilian side I could see 80% of a full circle rainbow. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get far enough away from it to capture it in a photo.)

Falling water is like fire, it compels you to watch it. Standing in the “Devil’s Throat” is like being surrounded by flames. In fact, in the key spot on the Brazilian side, you’re surrounded by 260 degrees of falling water. It’s a pretty special spot. (Can I brag that on Monday morning, August 10, 2015 I stood there by myself for at least 10 minutes? This is why you need your own transportation, and a bit of a plan. I know the desire to be there first and/or alone is not necessarily admirable, but when I observed the same spot from the shore 45 minutes later it was as crowded as a Chilean subway at rush hour–which as you might recall is as cramped as a jar of olives stuffed with a guinea pig).

Anyway, I spent a day and a half at the falls, and as I hope the pictures attest, it was worthwhile.

By the way, let me plug The Mission; it’s among my favorite movies. It has Robert Dinero, Jeremy Irons and a large cast of indigenous Indians. It’s set during the 1700’s when the Jesuit missions were under pressure from Spain. It raises a number of interesting philosophical questions. I’m sure this makes it sound awesome, but it also won the Palme d’Or in Cannes and the academy award for best cinematography. Moreover, I see that in 2007 it was chosen #1 by the Church Times as best Religious themed movie of all time. If that doesn’t make you want to see it… How about a score by Ennio Morricone? And an early appearance by Liam Neeson?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mission_(1986_film)

So I’m staying at the Sheraton in Iguazú. It’s way over-priced, but it lets you drive into the park, and it gives you special access to the Argentinian side of the falls before they open to poor people. Moreover, my room has a view of the falls so I can just sit on the balcony drinking beer, and typing, rather than trudging the trails. Well, no, trudging is the best part, but it was cool to come back and sit on the balcony afterwards.

I took the boat ride. They tell you that you might get wet, and I believed them, but “might get wet" and “will be steered directly under hundreds of gallons of water" are different concepts. it was pretty neat to plunge headlong into the blinding mist, but it was just obnoxious to take us directly under one of the side falls. Yeah the stupid teenage girls squealed in delight, but that’s because they’re stupid teenage girls. Fortunately I had my wallet and camera in a plastic bag, but I did feel a bit silly returning to the Sheraton dripping water in the lobby.

The truth is, the Sheraton kind of bothers me. I brought cheap beer to cool in the refrigerator, but the fridge isn’t working right. I can see why; it’s got a huge chunk of ice in the back, and it needs to be defrosted. I told them at the front desk, and they said they would investigate, but nothing has happened. I’m not going to make a scene over it, but I’m going to think bad thoughts about them with every warm sip. Also, they charge for wifi! That disgusts me. No other hotel I’ve been to in South America has had the temerity to charge for wifi. They should be ashamed.

Moreover, they have live harp music in the restaurant, but the risotto I ordered tastes like rice made with Kraft macaroni and cheese sauce, and it’s way too salty. I can’t listen to harp music and eat bad rice with bad mac and cheese sauce.

Most disturbing of all: They have washcloths! I don’t approve. Is this South America or what? I think I’m going to use them to clean the bugs off my motorcycle.

And yet, with all these flaws, the thing that bothers me the most is that this place makes me feel inadequate. I don’t know how much to tip, and that’s more stressful than it ought to be. Moreover, I’m pretty sure that I ate my salad with the wrong fork. I didn’t even notice the fork above the plate. That’s a lousy place to put a fork; it’s just like they’re setting a trap for the uncultured. The waiter was far too sophisticated to point this out, but I noticed the hesitation when he cleared the salad plate and had to decide how to handle my utensilary faux pas.

But what really disturbs me is that there are tables here with families, and they don’t even care that they're spending way too much on crappy food for obnoxious brats who can’t possibly appreciate it. That just makes it so obvious that I’m not wealthy, and I don’t belong here. You should only be here if you can blow $25 for mac and cheese and not care if it’s good.

Yeah, I’m exaggerating my discomfort slightly, but I’m as out of place in a $400 per night hotel as much as I am in $3 per night hotel.

In Puerto Iquazú, a city near the falls in Argentina, they have an intersection where 7 streets come together without even a stop sign. The six corners create a star shape highlighted by curbs painted in black and yellow stripes. Three of the corners have outdoor restaurants. I’m sitting in one now watching the traffic. Here comes a bus… No one died, this time. The truth is, this is a tourist town and there’s not much traffic, but it’s still interesting to see bewildered tourists approach the intersection. Sometimes you can see that they have no idea where to go. Which was my experience. I’m pretty sure that I’ve never before come to an intersection which offered six virtually equivalent options. This probably ought to be a round-about, but it’s not. In the center there’s just a big expanse of street with no apparent rules. To make it more interesting the space is on the side of a hill.

One of the more amusing things I’ve seen in the last few days are attempts to improve on the traffic light. Simple red, yellow and green aren’t enough for some of these cities. In Brazil, outside Iguacu, there’s a largish town with panels featuring 10 lights, five green and five red in vertical columns. Before the light changes, it counts down from the top. So you’re sitting at an intersection and the bottom red light is lit, and then 5 seconds before it’s going to change the top red flashes, and it counts down like the Christmas tree at a drag race. The traffic responds as you might expect. As soon as the countdown starts the engines rev; at green everyone explodes into the intersection. There’s a similar count down at the end of the green cycle, making yellow obsolete. It’s all very interesting, but it’s also absurd; these 10 light panels are enormous and some are already malfunctioning. What inspired them in the first place?! Are Brazilians afraid of yellow lights? My guess is that if you look closely there’s corruption behind the scenes. I'm afraid Brazil is built out of corruption and ants.  

While we’re on the subject, allow me to point out that traffic lights in South America rarely change. “Rarely” might be an exaggeration, but apparently some South American traffic engineers conceive of time rather differently than I do. One exacerbating factor is that many lights are setup in a four-way sequence. Each direction gets its own light, whether anyone is turning or not. This makes some sense given that South Americans are not known for their ability to yield, but it’s highly inefficient. Worst of all, South Americans haven’t learned about right turn on red. I’ve been trying to teach them by example (did I already use this joke?). To be honest, there are a significant number of Brazilians who share my concern for time, and they already know about right turn on red, as well as left turn on red, and straight ahead on red. I understand their thinking, but I can’t really approve, at least not when they fly be me at 60 in an SUV on the shoulder. After three-wheeled taxis, SUV’s are Satan’s favorite vehicles.

This is probably a good place to mention juggling. In many larger cities busy intersections are frequently occupied by jugglers. The lights are so long that they can do a full routine and still have time to collect tips. I’ve seen other acts, like trombone playing and baton twirling, but juggling is by far the most common. Some of the performances have been impressive and others decidedly not, but whether they’re good or lousy, they’re always interesting. I’ve given money on occasion, and I would more often, but it’s awkward to dig coins out of my pocket wearing gloves. And if you aren’t ready to move when the light turns green you risk losing your hearing to the horns. Anyway, my experience in South America inspires me to make an offer to the Houston homeless: If you learn to juggle, I promise to start giving money.

I have discovered a new favorite fruit juice: maracuja. It’s closely related to passion fruit, but I don’t know if it tastes like passion fruit because I’m uncertain if I’ve ever had pure passion fruit juice. One of my projects when I return home is to find maracuja juice, or at least to find pure passion fruit juice, to see if it’s similar. The maracuja is yellow-orange, and the first time I had it I thought I was drinking orange juice, but the best orange juice ever made in the history of existence. It’s somehow smoother than orange juice, with a certain special extra twist. I’ve had it nearly a dozen times now, in juice, smoothies and even ice cream. Just because "maracuja" is a weird word, doesn’t mean Americans should be deprived. (For some reason in Paraguay they spell it Mbaracuja. This is another reason not to visit Paraguay.)

I have also discovered that America is getting screwed on the pineapple scene. Turns out there are pineapples which are sweet, mild, and non-acidic, and you can even eat the core. They’re delicious. So what’s up Dole? Americans aren't good enough for Brazilian pineapple?

And did you know that papaya can actually taste good? Not so good that I really care, but I was surprised.

Dear South American pizza restaurants: Please stop using olives with pits. De-pitting technology has been available for many years; it works. Huge round olives don’t belong on a pizza; they don’t make you seem more European, they just make you seem ridiculous. Moreover, I don’t like having the pits on my plate… And empanada makers, PLEASE, I shouldn’t even have to tell you this, pits don’t belong inside meat pies. Someone is going to end up dead. I don’t know how exactly, but that’s what happens when you do stupid things, somebody always ends up dead...  I don’t know what you’re going to do with all the extracted pits, but maybe you can use them to fill potholes in Brazil? Just an idea.

As the trip comes to an end, I find it harder to write. I'm back in Buenos Aires now, and the trip is all but complete; my thoughts less so.

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