55. Sprinkles of pleasure in Iguazu Falls

By Filipe Morato Gomes	Where is Iguazu?
On my way back to Argentina after a short stay in neighbour Uruguay, I visited Esteros del Iberá National Park, a mixture of swamps and lagoons full of wildlife that forms a sort of a small version of Brazilian Pantanal. I prayed for the rain to end before following to Iguazu Falls, between Argentina and Brazil, where millions of sprinkles over my body were nothing but a pleasure. Iguazu Falls are truly an unforgettable site.

I was in Montevideo trying to decide about where to head off when I heard for the first time the name Esteros del Iberá. “A region of swamps, full of wild life, on the way to Iguazu falls”, I was told about it by the time of a conversation in a café as a sort of energetic incitement to a visit to the place. “Why not?”, I thought. And so, after getting on and off some other buses I settled down in Colonia Carlos Pellegrini, a small village neighbouring one of the main lagoons of Esteros del Iberá National Park.

Caimans at Iberá marshlands, Argentina

The great attraction of the park is, no doubt, its abundant fauna. One can get sight of sluggish capybaras, swimming and feeding themselves along the swamps. Snakes, numerous birds and many other animals, and the ones which are the favourite of the visitors, the caimans which stay motionless, warming up, in the slow moving waters of the lagoons.

Tourists can observe closely those creatures with a pre-historical appearance, by jumping on a boat appointed for that purpose. The trips last on the average about two hours and people who had already done it confirmed the attraction. “It was amazing! We have seen a lot of caimans, huge birds and many other animals on the banks of La Iberá lagoon”, Florence told me. She's a very kind porteña - inhabitant of Buenos Aires - who was on holiday in the region. I was longing for it.

As soon as I got to Carlos Pellegrini, I decided to go to the village camping site - from where the ships leave to the lagoons - when it started pouring with rain. The boats stopped their activity. The sun was hiding behind nearly black clouds and, in such case, most of the animals had no reason to expose themselves. I waited for the rain to pass. “If you want to take photos, you'd better try tomorrow”, a boatman told me, “Besides, we've got only a few hours of light, so we would have to do a quicker trip”, he concluded. I accepted the advice - I would come back “tomorrow”. The first day in Carlos Pellegrini was, therefore, lost.

Wildlife in Iberá marshlands, Argentina

But the next day woke up even uglier than the previous one. It rained copiously. Now and then, the skies offered a momentary pause, but some minutes after the downpour re-started. As for the sun, it kept hidden behind the black-coloured clouds. On that day, not a single boat left firm ground. And there was nothing else to do in the surroundings. Another day was lost.

I was thinking about giving up when the owner of the hostel warned me: “In the evening there is the party of the village patroness; we'll have live music and a barbecue in the church”. And she suggested: “Stay one more day, who knows it doesn't stop raining tomorrow”.

A local party in a tiny rural village, with men who arrived riding horses along the local roads, an accordion and a guitar, traditional dances, wine and meat on the barbecue is something very tempting. And so, I stayed for another day. I do not know if it was because I was silently expecting for a better weather or due to the party in the local church. But I stayed. And I was not sorry for it.

Speedboat with tourists heading for a waterfall at Iguazu Falls, on the border between Brazil and Argentina

The party was very curious. Everything happened around and inside the small church of the village. People were sitting inside the church, talking, eating and taking shelter from the rain. Outside, some men grilled meat, wearing cowboy clothes and boots and an appropriate cowboy roughness. In the middle of the church, there were long wooden tables and dozens of plastic chairs where women - mainly women - were sitting, expectant just as if they were in a former times' party waiting for the men to ask them to dance.

The sound of an accordion, a guitar and tuneless voice worked as a lulling song to curious dances performed by couples. The music was very badly played but the local tympanums did not care about that. The entire village was gathered, dancing, eating, and meeting old friends. It was a small thing - perhaps only fifty people - but it was one of the most genuine popular celebrations I'd been to. A lot of the people present in the celebrations looked at me kindly, others with surprise. But I felt as an intruder in a party where I was not supposed to be. And so I went back to the hostel and decided to leave during the following day's afternoon. Only the hope of a sunny morning was left. Or the frustration of having to give up.

In the early morning I woke up with the hostel owner's voice. “Sir, look and see how the weather is today”. It was sunny, beautiful, perfect to leave on a boat and see lots of alligators in the sun, sweet and sluggish capybaras, huge snakes and birds. It was worth waiting for - I thought, later, while a van took me back to civilization.

On the left side, Paraguay; on the right side, Brazil, the photo was taken in Puerto Iguazu, Argentina

I was going towards the Argentinean side of the world famous Iguazu falls. To tell the truth, I am not fond of waterfalls. Countless past disillusions make me not rely on whenever the subject is visiting waterfalls, pressingly presented as must-see tourist attractions of any region. Iguazu Falls would be different, it would be worthwhile - I persuaded myself.

The Devil's Throat and the other waterfalls, the air loaded with sprinkles, the brutal force of the river, the continuous and powerful sounds coming from every corner, everything was magic in Iguazu. In a week dominated by Nature, before such a majestic creation, a sensation of smallness invaded my thought. I was completely amazed. And more and more soaked, as the time passed by. After yearning so much for the end of the rain, in Colonia Carlos Pellegrini, there I was, still and speechless, looking at the white magic of the agitated waters and letting the thick sprinkles, coming from everywhere, make me completely wet to the skin.

(originally written in Portuguese)

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