Argentina To Brazil
22nd August 2012
Last night didn’t exactly go smoothly. I was up half the
night feeling ill. It must be a cold or flu coming on. Just what you want while
traveling! All I want is my nice warm, comfy bed to snuggle up in
and sleep.
We’re leaving Puerto de Iguazu, crossing the Argentinian
board and into Brazil to Foz do Iguacu. The bus ride is only eight Argentinian
pesos, about US$2. Eve and her friend Steph should be arriving late tonight.
Checking out of our little cabin at 10.15, we dragged our
cases down the road towards the bus terminal. Quickly checking in a few of the
bus companies, none had a bus route to Montevideo, or anywhere in Uruguay for
that matter. One company suggested I take three long distance bus rides, two
across Argentina and one to Montevideo. Total time on the bus: 30 hours. No,
thank you!
It’s hard to believe that no one has a bus service to
Uruguay. It’s the only South American country they don’t travel to. Ok, we
know the place is a tiny dot on the map but, come on!
First stop on the bus was to pass through Argentinian
customs. Luggage must go with you too. It’s a two minute stop, in one door,
passport stamped, out another and back
on the bus.
Two minutes later and we make our second, longer stop. This
time at Brazilian customs. All of us had to fill out Entry Visa papers, get
that stamped plus your passport and then wait for another bus. There was a large
group of us waiting outside Brazilian customs for about 45 minutes for the bus
to arrive. All of us huddled under a tree, staying out of the fierce sun.
Loading our luggage onto the bus again, we started the final
part of the bus ride into Foz do Iguacu. Compared to the Argentinian side, the
Brazilian is incredibly run down and surprisingly, there’s obviously a lot of
poverty.
Not long after we’d entered Brazil there were a couple of
surgeries offering everything from implants to botox to liposuctions! I couldn't help but smile to myself.
All of a sudden, the driver slammed on the brakes and the
bus screeched harshly to an abrupt halt. Hernan and I were standing and had to
quickly grab onto something, anything in front of us. I went crashing into a metal
railing in front of me. Turns out, someone on a push bike had cycled out from a side
street and crossed over the main road without looking! The bus very narrowly
missed him!
Off the bus we had to find out where the hell our hostel is. Hostel Klein. We didn’t have an address or contact number. Hernan popped
into the Tourist Information Centre at the bus terminal and got a pamphlet for
Hostel Klein. It looks like it’s a well-known place. We couldn’t call as we didn’t
have any Reales for the phone, so we decided it’d be best to just get a cab as it was too far to walk.
Walking down the road, looking for a taxi, we bumped into
someone who worked for the Tourist Information Centre, who took us to the taxi
rank and called for a cab. While waiting we were told a few do's and don’ts
about Foz do Iguacu and Brazil.
In Brazil, it’s illegal to hail taxis and for a taxi to pick
you up at the side of the road. This is apparently due to the large amount of
illegal taxis, many of whom will rob you of everything. The only place to get a
taxi is at a designated taxi rank.
Don’t get a taxi over the bridge from Foz do Iguacu to
Cuidad del Este, Paraguay. Cuidad del Este is a famous tax free area, popular
with tourists shopping for cheap electrical items. Many cross the Brazilian and
Argentinian boarders simply to shop for the day. Getting back to the story,
many taxis, while crossing over to Brazil or Paraguay, depending on which way
you’re going, get held up by armed gangs, half way over the bridge. When you
think of Brazil, you mainly think about thieves being tooled up with guns, but
we are told they just carry knives, big knives and they won’t think twice about
using them on you either. Nice to know! Needless to say, you’ll be robbed of
absolutely everything! Of course, the taxi drivers, some legal while others not
so legal, are in on the deal and will contact the thieves before setting off.
Fede’s Portuguese has amazed all of us. We imagined he spoke
a fair amount due to working on the Mariner of the Seas during Brazilian
season, but we certainly didn’t expect him to speak so much and have the
ability to hold a conversation about anything other than taking someone’s
photo!
Driving through the town, well, city, we headed towards our
hostel. Foz do Iguacu is a rundown mess compared to Puerto de Iguazu,
Argentina. Poor and run down. Finding the hostel didn’t take too long, but we
weren’t exactly optimistic when we saw where we were heading. The area looked
one step up from a shanty town, in fact, there were a few partially made
(mismatch tin roofs, make shift doors etc.) houses around us.
Pulling up outside Hostel Klein, we were letting off more
than a few nervous giggles and “where the hell have the girls booked us into?”
The taxi driver really knew how to boost our optimism, telling us “This place
isn’t safe. Do you want me to take you somewhere closer to the city centre? The
city is dangerous, but this is even worse. You can’t go out here during the
evening. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you somewhere else? Somewhere
better?” Declining, we pulled our bags out of the car boot and headed towards
the entrance of Hostel Klein feeling rather dubious, I might add.
Hostel Klein, the first thing that you notice about the
place is the two metre high wall surrounding the perimeter. On top of that, are
the two sets of wires on top of the wall with numerous warning signs “Electric
– May Cause Death”. Ringing the intercom with camera, we were allowed through
the large security gate to be met at the front door. As you can imagine, we
were glowing with enthusiasm!
Going to our “room” to drop our luggage off, Hernan summed
it up in one word: Orphanage. We were staying in the equivalent of an
orphanage. One large room (which we later found out was originally a garage)
with 13, small single beds lining the walls. In one corner was a small bathroom
for us.
As it’s out of season, the five of us, when the girls arrive, will
probably have the room to ourselves. Thank God! I may sound like a snob, but I
don’t fancy sharing a room with a bunch of strangers, especially with a Canon
5D Mark II stuffed into my backpack! As Hernan commented on the way over “you’re
not cut out for this type of traveling.”
Next stop was the shopping centre to change Dollars to
Reales and get something to eat. We were starving!
Imagine this room with twice as many beds!
