Valdes Pensinular Part Two

For the next day, we were booked to go and see dolphins, a huge penguin colony and a Welsh village where you can have all the tea and cakes that your heart desires. Our guide is as equally scary as the last but in a different way - she´s a bit moody and we don´t endear to her as much as yesterday. Lot´s of people seem to be late for the tour and she keeps moaning and whingeing about it in Spanish for most of the journey. Our dolphin tour is not as well organised as the previous, the people on the boat are rude and stand up in front of you so you can´t see the dolphins. However, when we do see the dolphins, there are lots of them - everywhere. They are the smallest dolphins in the world and are very beautiful - black and white and look like mini Orcas. They swim close to the boats, playing and jumping. They follow the bows of the boats, almost touching them the whole time.

The drive to the penguin colony was long and drab. We arrived and walked for a while before we started to see anything - a couple of penguins here and there with their chicks. Then more and more penguins until there was too many to count. It really looks like a city for penguins, with some going about their daily business. You can get right up close but are not allowed to touch them and they can bite if you do so. We golt to a lookout where you can see the penguins in their thousands. They´re all walking, swimming and chatting and seeming to have a good time. The beach stretches as far as the eye can see and along the shore are huge groups of them. We continued walking around, finding some penguins with eggs still to hatch. They make lots of noise not too dissimilar to donkeys and all around you can hear the squawking of the chicks. We were sad to leave and we´d had a great time.

Our final stop was to be a Welsh Tea House in a little village on the way back to Puerto Madryn. We thought the whole thing would be kinda cheesy and a bit of a rip-off. It was expensive, but we shared all the cakes which was enough for twenty people. The cakes and tea were simply excellent and the tea house itself was kind of authentic. We managed to stuff ourselves silly and had a jolly good time!

Valdes Pensinular Part One

Our bus journey wasn´t as comforable as previous ones as all the good seats had been booked but we wanted to travel. We arrived in Puerto Madryn a bit tired but ready to get out and look at some tours. Puerto Madryn is the jumping off point to the Valdes Peninsular - an area of one of the most important marine reserves on the planet. This is place where Orcas have been filmed beaching themselves and grabbing a tasty seal to eat. Our hostel gave us great information and for all the tours we could get a discount so we booked one for the next day which would encompass whale watching and visits to elephant seal and penguin colonies - exciting. They also suggested we go to an eco centre for some in depth information. Walking along the beach was quite pretty and the town really looks like an English seaside resort. The walk takes quite a while and we arrive at the eco centre a bit early so have a couple of drinks in a nice bar overlooking the beach and city. The eco centre is just shit. There´s nothing in it apart from a couple of touch screens and a pool with starfish - thankfully we´re a little drunk which helps spice it up.

The evening was pretty quiet spent eating good food which was nice and different to what we´d eaten already. We also got a nice bottle of wine and ended the evening drinking it up and playing cards.We got up early and a scary lady came to pick us up the tour bus. It turned out she was lovely with great knowledge and care of the wildlife. The tour didn´t have a huge amount of people on it which was good and no big groups of people. The only annoying person was a girl who when passed any information, would not pass it to us but would pass it to her new friends behind us which she had recently accosted. Colin and I decided that if the opportunity arose, we would play a practical joke on her or push her over a cliff. We drove about an hour through what is basically a desert. This area receives almost no rain due to Andes to the west. The landscape is flat and bleak. We get to the boat for the whale watching an have a nice dutch girl for our guide. We have taken our full wet gear as previous experiences of company given stuff is dire. So everyone else in their big orange and yellow ponchos and lifevests look like Oompa Loompas and for once, we look good in fitted black and orange. The dutch girl comments on this and then shouts at everyone else, "sorry guys but you all look awful". We are in the good books. The boat is set up pretty well and there aren´t too many people which is good. The boat is sailing along nicely and the sea is not too choppy. In the distance we see something moving and then lots of big splashes. The boat races towards it. We find not one, but three Southern Right Whales: a mother and two calves. This is unusual as they only give birth to one so the mother of the other one has either abandoned it or died. The calves seem to be playing - diving over each other. They then start swimming very close to the boat. For the next hour we are treated to the whales swimming so close to the boat we can see all the barnacles on their bodies. They are extremely graceful and beautiful and we feel privileged to have seen them so close.

Back on dry land we head to the north of the peninsular to see the rest of the animal circus. On the way we rheas (similar to ostriches), grey foxes and guancos (similar to camels). The landscape is pretty boring with lots of dry shrub. Our first stop is an area with elephant seals. They don´t do much apart from lay around looking fat. It looks like Benidorm with a load of fat, Essex girls sunning themselves. In the car park we spot an armadillo running around looking for food. It is very cute, running to people trying to find food. Our guide informs us that they are here a lot and soon there will be an accident - not cute! Our next stop is a small penguin colony. There´s not a huge amount of them but they are all cute nonetheless and you can hear their chicks that´ve just been hatched. Both parents take turns to look after them. For lunch, we arrived at another elephant seal colony which was basically the same setup. Again, the seals were lying around lazily with a couple moving around. It was pretty boring actually. We did see a huge spider here and everyone was taking photos of it walking around. It was so close to the paths, eventually a man had to scoop it up and put it in a bush far away from potentially squashing feet. We´d had a great day and headed back home, finishing the day off with awful pasta a good bottle of red wine.

Montevideo and Buenos Aires

We decided to do a week long Spanish course in Montevideo as it has a lot to offer, mainly beaches. We took a boat and bus combination which was pretty efficient and arrived refreshed. Arriving in Montevideo on a Sunday is like arriving in a ghost town - it was dead. Foregoing food we went straight to the beach which was pretty packed and not the nicest beach as the tide was out really far leaving a load of muck behind. After walking for a while we decided we where hungry and went for the worst burger ever which did not do my stomach any good for a while after. The accent in Uruguay is the same as in Argentina but a bit stronger and it was incredibly difficult to understand anyone and our tiredness did not help at all so we headed home for an early night.The next morning was spent walking around and getting to know the city. There´s a couple of nice areas but for the most part, it´s not as pretty as we´d though it would be. Because of this we decided not to do the Spanish course and go back to Buenos Aires the next day. This put us way ahead of schedule but would give us more time to do areas we weren´t originally going to do.

Walking around, we came across a huge indoor eating area and decided to head back for a late lunch before heading to the beach. The food was not that good and it was pretty expensive compared to what we´re used to so we decided to write that off and head to another beach - more out of town. The beach was pretty nice for a city beach and it was nice to relax a little and it was nice to oggle the cute men walking by. Our evening as again, uneventful and we got another early night as we were heading back to Buenos Aires very early. The journey back to Buenos Aires was equally easy and we got there early and went back to the hotel we´d previously stayed in.

We had some time to relax so that´s what we did and when I mean relax, I mean drink lots!! This ended up with us falling asleep in the afternoon and waking up late again but at the right time for dinner here - 10pm. We returned to our favourite little restaurant where the food was just as good but all the old guys who usually work were not there which made it a little less special as they are so knowledgeable about the food and wines. We headed back to the square in San Telmo and eventually got accosted by a krusty that spoke perfect English and had lived in London for quite a while in Brixton. He was quite an interesting guy so we chatted and bought him a drink. The night was still young and courtesy of our krusty friend, we got a bit mashed and ended up in another bar chatting shit to a group of Argentines, Colombians and Peruvians which was lot´s of fun.

The night ended well with them inviting us back to join them the next evening. We hadn´t realised where the time had gone and suddenley we found ourselves waking up the owner of the hotel at 6am in sunlight. Not a good look.We were pretty hungover the next day so tried to do as little as possible. I had to force Colin to go the famous Recolate Cementary which houses the rich and famous plus Evita´s grave. The mausoleum´s are huge and are bigger than a lot of people´s houses and it really does go to show that some people have way too much money and are so vain that they have to build such huge testaments to themselves. The cementary itself was quite pleasant nonetheless and looked almost like a city. We found Evita´s grave after following people and it was pretty nondescript with some flowers on it. That all seemed like too much effort so we headed back to the hotel for a rest. Extremely bored of looking for places to eat now, we found a french place that had a more varied menu. The food was superb and not too expensive. The next day after a long sleep we caught a bus to one of the top places for marine wildlife - Puerto Madryn.

Buenos Aires

We are on another bus; but this time Argentinian styley!! We are heading to the capital which is a 20 hour ride away. We've heard loads about the service here and have decided to go executive class. What a contrast to Bolivia!! We are seated in two huge leather armchairs that fully recline 180 degrees, waiter service with meals served with wine, back to back videos playing really trashy American films, champagne served after dinner and blankets and pillows supplied for our nocturnal slumbers. I feel like a Princess. Only one slight downside,the food. There are only two foods that I just cannot eat, both making me physically sick - custard and anything made from suet. Of all the combinations of meals that there are throughout the world and that could have been served to us on the bus it has too be pretty damn unlucky that for our main course we are served a dumpling-like concoction that turns my stomach after the first mouthful - how unlucky can you be! Breakfast was also a little strange although fantastic if you have a sweet tooth - we received a plate with a cake, chocolate bar and some Smarties. Interesting. There was enough sugar content to keep a three year old in a permanent hyper-active state for at least a week.

Arriving in Buenas Aires the heat is intense, at least 30 degrees. The city is huge, bustling and a little manic. The avenues are massive with some having at least 12 lanes. The streets are lined with gorgeous trees that are in full purple blossom. The buildings are grand, colonial and imposingly big: our first impressions are of a cross between Paris, New York and Barcelona.

Our taxi drops us of at our hospedaje - which is basically a huge house where the owners rent out rooms, and where they themselves live also. We ring the bell and we are buzzed in. I'm instantly reminded of Mr Ben, the children's cartoon, where on trying on costumes at a local shop the shopkeeper asks Mr Ben to "kindly step this way", and he enters a door that transports him to a different world where he embarks on a new adventure. We have stepped into the 1940s. The reception is furnished in what one can only describe as 'grannies parlour meets the Addams family'. Mortitia comes to greet us, and shows us to our coffins... er I mean room; I have a feeling that the hospedaje may be run by the undead as I see Herman Munster cleaning the room next door.Gulp.

We are staying in San Telmo, a district of BA that is renowned for its antiques, little cobble streets, tango and good cheap restaurants. We find a great Parrilla - meat restaurant- that serves absolutely mouth wateringly, tongue hangy-outy, droolingly delicious steaks and other bits of cow. The meat is so huge that most people have it on it's own without any accompaniment. This is a vegetarian's nightmare.

Back at our room and I can't believe it!!! On going to peruse the photos that I took of Iguazu, with Ad's little camera, the fucking thing is broken!!! Whilst most functions are working the display screen, when turned on, looks like a cracked window and no images are displayed. I feel sick. Ad doesn't say much, but I know that he is fuming with me. I take the normal course of action and completely deny any responsibility and desperately try to shift the blame to Adrian, even though I have been carrying it all the time and know that it is my fault. Fucking cameras are starting to piss me off!! That now bring the count to 4 lost/stolen/broken cameras. A stony silence remains for most of the day. I'm really in the dog house; I feel depressed, sick, stupid and a right prize plonker...I know,as does Ad, that I haven't done this on purpose, but that makes little difference. Cameras are becoming a recurring nightmare on this holiday.

The next morning, with relations very nearly properly restored, but with my tail firmly between my legs we take a trip to Boca. This area of BA is poorer than where we are staying, very working class and if the guide books are to be believed a bit of a no go area for tourists outside of a couple of well policed touristic streets. Two converging streets are a riot of buildings brightly painted in vivid yellows, reds and blues; tango music is booming out from every direction with dancing demonstrations being done outside several cafe-bars; artists line the streets hawking their pictures and a squat, chubby, curly haired Maradonna look-a-like is posing for pictures. We pause for a beer and watch one of the free tango shows. A procession of tight buttocked Lotharios enter the stage with their immaculately dolled up dancing divas to entertain us with their foot-flinging flirtatious frolickings. In addition to the tango, displays of traditional Argentine shimmying - a cross between flamenco, tap and Irish dancing - are presented. One nimble hoofer throws his legs around tapping a shoe clicking rhythm faster that my Uncle Arthur can play the spoons; another particularly lithe young man dressed in a dashing Errol Flynn-esque shirt produces two ropes that he twirls, twists and twiddles, like an proficient ninja warrior revealing his nun-chuck expertise, but while dancing and striking the ropes on the floor along to the accompanying band; the tango dancers, melded together as one, ooze sexual tension, lust and desire as they smooch their choreographed moves for all to see. Wow!! What a display. It's making me feel a little amorous... pity I'm in the dog house.

With no-one else to blame I resign myself to taking full responsibility for the broken camera. Unfortunately, I now have to buy another one, which due to the lack of available brands is not going to be as half as good as the lost/broken ones and is going to cost me twice as much as in the UK. An expensive lesson, but at least relations are now normalised.

BA is fantastic. We spend the next few days eating some great meat, drinking lots of wine -I've now been converted to the delights of a glass or three of good red - and exploring different areas. The weather is scorching; I'm as brown a berry that has probably been in the sun too long and has wrinkled and shrivelled and is about to fall off the bush ( oh maybe that's not good); and apart from Ad finding a grilled maggot in his lunch, one day, everything goes smoothly and calmly. We even nurture a fondness for the never-ending different 90 year olds, looking freshly scrapped from the morticians slab, that run the haunted hospedaje, greeting us each time we arrive with a long, deep, guttural Ooooooooolas! whilst eyeing our necks and salivating extensively.

I could spend a lot of time in Buenas Aires, it's a huge city and like any metropolis the longer you are there the more you understand it and the better the time you have. But we have to move on: Argentina is not cheap, and BA even more so. We need to cut back our spending and I'm informed, to economise, instead of my usual, I need to start drinking beer - which I very rarely drink as it looks and tastes like wee - and that we are going to have to sleep in more dormitories. Yuk! Boooh! Hiss! Stoopid credit crunch!!!!!!

Iguazu Falls

As we arrive in Puerto Iguazu: it immediately becomes apparent that we have entered almost a different world than we have become accustomed to over the last 6 weeks. There are shops. There are shops with things in them. There are shops with things in them that you could possibly want to buy. I remember in La Paz there was an old lady sitting by the road selling a few knick knacks - nothing unusual in this there are hundreds of people selling things off a blanket laid on the pavement - but one of her pieces caught my eye, it was a box of table mats that had proudly emblazoned on the front 100% PLASTIC. In comparison Argentina is like Santa's grotto just before Christmas.

We have booked a good looking hostel just outside of the main town; it's main attraction being that it has a swimming pool!! The weather is gorgeously hot and the thought of being able to take a cooling dip makes my nipples go all erect and pointy at the sheer decadence of Argentinian living. This really feels like a different world.

The hostel is nice but on the downside we have to share a room with two others; also the hostel is run by adolescents, of whom a few have such long sulky faces, with attitudes to match, that I'm tempted to put them on the naughty step and let them contemplate their behaviour. The average age of the guests are also probably 20 years younger than I, which all goes to make me feel a bit like Grandpa at a teenage party. However with my trousers rolled up, a tied hankie on my head and a pint of stout in my hand I resolve to fit in as best as I can.

In the morning we head for the waterfalls. The whole of the park is laid out in such a way that you can easily access each tumbling cascade via wooden walk ways. We round the first corner and are confronted by the first of hundreds of cataracts that ceaselessly continue to flow over the 200 plus foot of sheer drop. This is a perfect photo opportunity, however when i go to my bag, the camera isn't there... oh shit! I'm a creature of habit. I very rarely lose my keys or don't know where I've put things. I always keep things in the same place. I immediately know that I've lost my camera; probably left in Bolivia before our four country-one day escapade. Oh well never mind. That takes the count to three cameras lost/stolen. We spend the whole day wandering around the falls. They are absolutely brilliant. I wasn't expecting much, just a few waterfalls, but the whole park is fantastic. There are hundreds of cascades ranging from a trickle to what looks like oceans crashing over the cliffs. I'm running out of superlatives to describe the awesomeness of all the things that we are seeing. It really is breathtakingly beautiful. Hopefully the pictures will do a better job.

the evening we venture into the town for dinner. We have one thing on our minds: Argentinian steak, supposedly the best in the world. We find a nice restaurant and order two bife de chirzo (rump steak) and a couple of bottles of wine. When the steak arrives, it's about two inches thick and just looks delicious. I have ordered medium rare and Ad rare, or as the waiter said "juicy and even more juicy". This steak is out of this world. My knife is cutting through the meat with no pressure at all and the flesh is just falling apart. The juices are flowing out of the centre, and it just melts on the tongue. It is fucking delicious. I'm not particularly a beef lover but this is definitely the best beef I have ever tasted. I don't know how they get a piece of meat tasting so good but I have not had such a fantastic masticate for a very long time. With the wine as equally as good we set of back home completely satiated. What a fantastic day.

On returning from the falls yesterday I frantically searched through all my belongings, in vain, for my camera. I can't believe that I've left it in Bolivia - it was a present; so added to the fact that I've lost some brilliant photos I'm feeling a bit down and stupid! Ad says that I can borrow his little camera -which for some reason I feel loathed to do, but reluctantly agree.This morning I woke up really early and trying to hide my morning glory from the slumbering strangers that we are sharing a room with, take a little stroll down to the pool for a ciggie. The hostel looks like godzilla and king kong were having a party here last night; upturned tables, fag butts everywhere, beer bottles in the pool - it's good to see that my fellow residents know how to respect their surroundings whilst enjoying themselves!

Eight o'clock and we are off to view the falls again, but this time from the Brazilian side. The sun is blistering down as we collect our correct entry stamps at Brazilian immigration control. We are both wary (or is it wishing) that we may be stripped searched for having obviously entered Argentina via Brazil without any immigration formalities two days previous - no such luck, you can't win them all!This side of the waterfalls isn't quite as well organised as the Argentinian side; the falls, once we have entered the park, are a further 15 minute bus ride - packed with sock and sandal wearing day-trippers eager to take videos of Chuck and Martha getting on the bus ( I'd love to be a fly on the wall at that riveting ' come-round-and-see-our-pictures-of our-holiday' party). Once we arrive there is only one route that you can take which necessarily means that it is absolutely teeming with people.

Unlike the Argentinian side, we now have a panoramic view of all the cascades. The overview is mesmerisingly beautiful:hundreds of falls smash into the turbulent swirl of the rapid running river below,surrounded by lush, dense jungle. We shove our way past all the Chucks and Marthas and head straight for the end of the route where the platform extends out over the cliffs and suspends us just feet away from the ear splitting roar of the Gargantua Del Diablo falls, where millions of gallons of water are spewed over the precipice each minute. Standing on the edge of the platform we get soaked, but the sheer power, volume, noise and consistency of this never ending deluge is spine-tinglingly hypnotising. It is almost unbelievable that each second, minute, hour, day, week and year the trillions of gallons just keep unendingly flowing. The water is so voluminous that it almost looks solid. Huge clouds of spray are sent spiraling into the air, rising to possibly 300 feet above the falls before gradually being dissipating under the scorching sun. Trying to take pictures proves a little difficult as the cameras are exposed to the constant spray and when the wind changes in our direction, it is like a bucket of water being chucked at us. This sight is honestly phenomenal.

Four Countries - One Day

Left all alone waving goodbye to Marcos and Melba, we both feel quite emotional. Ad comforts me as I feel like a heart-broken teenager after a summer holiday romance with a slightly older, long haired, flip-flop wearing, scooter riding youth that has carried me around pillion and given it to me side saddle a few times, on a blissful ten days in Toremelinos. Aaaah memories. Anyway, back to the present. We are in Uyunni after a fantastic four day tour. We're not quite sure what we are going to do next but decide to spend the night here and then head off to Sucre, the judicial capital of Bolivia.

We check into a hostel and have a wander around, however it soon becomes clear that we are in a real one horse, one whore town (apparently it's her day off) and the thought of staying here for 24 hours is comparable to contemplating sticking sharpened pencils up your nose. So off we head to the bus station and book our tickets for Sucre. QUALITY, COMFORT and SECURITY is the company slogan and after viewing the pictures of the pretty posh bus we pay over our money for the overnight journey. A few hours later we return in good time to embark. The bus is supposed to leave at 7pm and at 6.55 the bus is not here. Across the road another companies bus arrives... very nice...7pm and our bus arrives. Well fuck me, I can't believe the old jalopy that has turned up. It hardly looks as if it will reach the end of the road let alone a 18 hour journey over, apparently, some of the worst roads in South America! I ask the woman if that is really our bus.. yes, she says... are you serious?... yes, she says. Oh I'm fuming...quality, comfort and security.... the bus looks so dilapidated that I'm convinced all my internal organs will be so bruised and battered by the time we reach our destination that they will resemble a pound of strawberries after 2 minutes in a liquidiser. I tell the woman I want my money back. She scowls at me and says no. I insist! She looks away. I call her a thief and demand my money back. But the hard faced mare ain't having none of it. Shouting that I have been robbed I leave the office..... I have had my first argument in Spanish.

We run to the opposite side of the road and catch the bus with the other company. We have lost money, but at least this bus doesn't look like a reject from a breakers yard. 18 hour later we arrive in Sucre. It is a lovely city, immediately apparent is the wealth that is here in comparison to La Paz and everywhere else we have been in Bolivia. Sucre is in the East of the country where there is oil and gas reserves. Unfortunately for the rest of the country the money generated seems to stay in the region and whilst fellow countrymen are living in hovels here the terracotta roofed building are reminiscent of Italy.

We only stay a day in Sucre. After the fantastic time we had out in the Bolivian countryside we are feeling like we need more adventures and don't really feel like being in big cities- as nice as they may be. So now we are thinking of how to get to and booking a tour for the Pantanal, in Brazil. We were planning to enter Brazil via Santa Cruz, Bolivia, by train. The train only leaves 3 times a week and the next departure is two days time. Once in Santa Cruz we start researching more in depth what we are going to do next. Unfortunately we can't find a good recommended tour, that is within our price range. The Pantanal is a huge area within Brazil where wildlife is in abundance. We want a good four day trip where hopefully we will see capybara, anteaters, jaguars, monkeys, anacondas etc. There is so much bad stuff written about the tour companies on various websites that we start to get a bit despondent. To get to the Pantanal is going to take a couple of days. If we go all that way without having anything booked and then can't find a good company it's going to be a huge waste of time. To add to our indecisiveness the weather doesn't look too great there either. Unfortunately we have sorted of painted ourselves in a corner. We are in the far East of Bolivia , we don't really have anywhere else to go unless we go back the same way that we have come. We research alternatives. Finally after much angst and soul searching we decide that we are going to miss out going to the Pantanal. Instead we decide to go to Argentina. However to get there is going to be a real mission.....going through four countries in one day!!

We buy plane tickets to take us the next morning from Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Ascension, Paraguay. We are a little worried when we arrive in Ascension as we have been told by more than one person that you need to have an onward ticket when arriving in Paraguay or they wont let you in the country, which we don't have. We sail through immigration with no problems..sometimes it's best to ignore other peoples advice. We get a taxi to the centre of the city. However it's Sunday and everywhere is closed and the centre is deserted. Our idea is to go to the bus station and get a connection to Cuidad Del Este in the east of the country which borders both Brazil and Argentina. Driving through Ascension we pass some huge mansions that have been left derelict, all around is evidence of a wealthy past. Paraguay is the second poorest country in South America after Bolivia and when we reach the centre, the main square has loads of people sleeping rough under canvass sheets within a small park area. Our taxi driver tells us we need to catch a bus to the station ( we could have got him to take us but we had the distinct feeling that he was ripping us off. These are the things you don't think about too much when preparing your trip, entering new countries you have no idea what the exchange rate is or how much things should cost when you get there; invariably the first contact is with taxi drivers, they know that you are naive and I suspect all try to take the piss if they can - same all over the world I expect). After a 15 minute wait an old chugga bus turns up and takes us to the station. Ascension looks really poor and a hard place to live. There has just been a change of government here and a leftist leaning ex priest has won the presidency from a right wing party that had been in power for 67 years. The elite has been looking after the elite and you can see by the surroundings that Paraguay is desperately in need of some public finance injections.

We nearly miss our bus as we haven't realised that the time has gone forward an hour from that of Bolivia's. However happily ensconced on the the bus we look forward to the second leg of our journey to the border. The journey should take 6 hours, unfortunately after about 2 hours the bus is making a strange noise, after 4 hours the bus breaks down and won't restart. After much tinkering banging, sticking things together with glue and other technical shenanigans, the bus begrudgingly coughs to a start. An hour later and we break down again on the motorway...well the Paraguayan equivalent. The driver looks at us all and shrugs his shoulders.. I think that is the international sign for " I think it's fucked". Its now 6o'clock in the evening and we have been on the go since 4 am. We are about an hour away from the Paraguayan/Brazilian/Argentinian border. Why are things not easy? Another bus pulls up behind us and thankfully lets us all get on.

At the bus station you are supposed to be able to catch an international bus that will take us over the border to Argentina. It's Sunday and everything is closed. Our guide book tells us that we can catch a bus just after Paraguayan customs control. We make our way there, get our exit visas stamped in our passports and look for the bus. There isn't one. To get to Argentina you have to cross a bridge into Brazil first and then carry on to the Argentine border. The guide books are a bit unclear of how we are supposed to do this if there is no bus. We ask some Paraguayan soldiers if we can walk over the bridge to Brazil, they say yes no problem. We later find out that all the guide books tell you not to do this as you are almost certain to be mugged - thankfully it's Sunday and it must be the muggers day off. We cross the bridge and get to Brazilian immigration control. It's all in Portuguese and we don't have a clue. We follow the road around to a check point. It's nearly deserted. An armed soldier at the barrier is on his mobile to a mate, having a good laugh. He asks where we are going and on saying Argentina, just waves us through; no passport stamp, entry visa or nothing. We enter Brazil convinced that we are entering illegally and expecting to be shot in the back or picked up by the police at any minute. We hail a taxi and get him to take us to the Argentine border. It turns out that this is about half an hour away; another thing that the guide book doesn't tell you. All goes smoothly at the border as we enter into our fourth country of the day: Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina. What a journey. I wouldn't recommend it, but at least we have got to where we want to be in just one day.

We are now at Puerto Iguazu where tomorrow we are going to see the fantastic waterfalls strung out along the border.