And so it ends... (Homeward bound)

26–26 June 2013

This post marks the end of our honeymoon blogging journey (albeit almost three years post-actual honeymoon).

At Rio airport, after explaining our ticket situation/itinerary* at the security check before check in, again at check in, and yet again when boarding, we finally made our way onto the first of our three flights home.

From Rio we flew to Houston, where we had several hours to collect our luggage, check in again and make our next flight (in between grabbing food and finally exchanging some rogue Bolivianos that we hadn’t been able to exchange in Brazil). Then we flew on to LA, where we stayed for the day and evening in the Marriott.

The Marriott was another lovely hotel experience – great service, extremely comfortable room, and complimentary champagne, cheese, bread and fruit as a honeymoon gift! We didn’t even ask for the free food and booze this time – the lady at the front desk who checked us in had talked with us about our trip and sent it up with a card from the staff. So sweet!

We made the most of the beautiful, summery LA day by walking around the streets, taking a dip in the hotel pool, and reading and chatting poolside. We were also rather entertained by two heavily tattooed punk rockers, who were drinking beer in the pool and trying to chat up a woman on her balcony above them. They talked to her for about a minute before she decided to come down to hang out with them. I have no idea how that happened, but good on them! 

After a lack of service from the humourless wench at the QANTAS check in desk, who haughtily dismissed the very notion of putting us in bulk head/exit row seats or upgrading us (despite us having tried to book it weeks ago), we took our boarding passes to the first class/customer service desk, explained the situation, and were promptly issued boarding passes for bulk head seats by the QANTAS lady and her manager there. The lady also warned us to do our shopping this side of the gates, because there was next to nothing the other side. (Of course, we stocked up on the essentials – three bottles of top notch whisky at $20-25 per litre, and some nail polish.)

On board the plane, I drank a lot of whisky, ate a lot of chocolate, watched quite a few movies and made friends with the lady sitting next to me. She is American, but lives in Mornington with her Australian husband. We bonded over gardening (I think she has her own organic company and a very productive garden) and natural medicine (her son was studying naturopathy and I was studying herbal medicine). I even gave her my spare socks when hers got wet. It was her birthday, so the staff had moved her to the bulkhead next to us and bought her first class food and drinks and all sorts of presents, including free bottles of booze and toiletries/beauty bags to take home. I think the next trip I take will be on my birthday...

And all this while, Chris snored contentedly beside me. I think he even slept through the meals.

We landed safely, albeit a little dehydrated and hung over (perhaps that was just me). We made it swiftly through customs and out into the clear, sunny, crisp winter morning, straight into a taxi to the 'Hill.

At home, we were greeted by our two (rather grumpy) cats, and pleased to see the plants were still alive, and the house clean and tidy. There wasn't even a snail in the loo (and I haven't seen another one since that morning we left for this trip).

It took us a wee while to adjust to the Melbourne accents and climate again, to speaking English freely and being properly understood. The clothes, opulence, cleanliness, everyday waste and things we take for granted here (like road rules) were all such a contrast to our recent experiences. There’s always such an odd strangeness and familiarity – a strange familiarity – when you come home after a long time away. But how nice it is to be there, with a greater appreciation for all you have, and all you have seen and done. And for the promise (and reality) of a good shower and comfortable bed.

*The situation being we had separate tickets for the different legs of our return trip, so we didn’t have all our boarding passes and would need to check in again in LA – we weren’t planning on illegally staying in America or anything devious like that at all.

When my baby smiles at me, I go to Rio…

20–25 June 2013
 
Despite it costing a million dollars to visit, we quite liked Rio. We stayed the first few nights in a hostel and the last two in a posh hotel with a balcony overlooking Copacabana Beach.

Our room at the Ipanema Beach House Hostel was slightly more basic than we were expecting, especially for what it cost, but it met our needs – double bed, tiny shower, toilet, sink (we had to ask for a blanket though!). It was like a little cabin in the hostel’s courtyard. Right where breakfast is served every morning, so no chance of sleep ins – especially when they started playing Latin jazz at 8am (much to my delight and Chris’ chagrin). The hostel was very well situated – walking distance to everything, including shops, bars and the beach.

Our room in the posh hotel was lovely though (and we wished we’d stayed there the whole time – if only we were loaded!). It was on the sixth floor, with a balcony overlooking the entire Copacabana Beach (which we made the most of with drinks and nibblies out there each night). It also had a big king-sized bed (heavenly compared with the squishy, soft, dilapidated hostel bed that left us feeling about 50 years older than we are!), a big flat-screen TV, more robes, more Haviana thongs (in our sizes!), a mini bar, comfy chairs, tables, and a fancy modern bathroom. Oh, and did I mention the views..? We didn’t use the rooftop pool or bar though, and only hit the restaurant for breakfast (which was delicious).

Rio’s buildings and facilities seem a bit more Western (American/European) than the rest of South America that we’d seen. It is relatively clean and organised. Cars stay on their side of the road, indicate, follow road rules and have working seat belts. Fashion is slightly less tacky. People seem healthier (and are better looking) – despite all the cheesy, fast-food restaurants around. It reminds me a bit of America, but with a touch of Fiji and Thailand because of the simple buildings and roads, and all the greenery.

There’s a real tropical feel to Rio, with gorgeous palms and vines and bromeliads, and what look like kapok trees, everywhere. However, there are also a lot of concrete and cement buildings, and footpaths (broken and new). Rio's paths try to flatten and tame the landscape, whereas in Iguassu the paths are more natural, and pavers and bricks follow the curves of the land. Iguassu feels quite a bit more warm, charming and characterful than Rio.

The weather was mostly nice – a mix of sunshine and rain, slightly more humid than the other places we’d visited, and with an almost constant haze and cloudiness that seemed to prevent the sun warming us up that much. Because of that, it wasn’t quite warm enough to make the most of the beach, unfortunately. Of course, the weather was impeccable on our last day in town, but we couldn’t hit the beach then. Chris tried swimming the first day we were there, and eventually convinced me to take a quick dip. We both only went in up to our bottoms, because it was just far too rough (pulling you in and down) and cold to go any further. No one else seemed to be swimming either, although there were lifeguards on patrol.

The beaches reminded me of St Kilda beach – with a real mix of people. Some ‘beautiful’ people, with perfect abs, pert bums, pretty faces and styled hair; some overweight, less well-presented people; the young and old; families; gay; straight; all ethnicities; beggars; the rich… you name it. There are also loads of street/beachside vendors, selling everything from sarongs, t-shirts and key rings to jewellery, pictures, novelty beer glasses, drinks and food. But when we were there, there weren’t quite as many people as I was expecting on the beaches (although Copacabana Beach was obviously popular). And there was a distinct lack of g-strings and nudity! 

Along the promenades, people play volleyball, soccer or tennis; roller-blade; cycle; sun bake; read; build sandcastles (there was quite a display of sand art on one stretch of beach); or just chill in the little cafes. But again, there weren’t any pumping bars or clubs, which I had expected along the beachfront. Instead, fancy hotels and apartment blocks – with surprisingly few balconies – line the road along the beach. We did admire the Copacabana Palace – an Oriente Express hotel, the same chain as the one we stayed at in the Iguassu national park. It exudes fanciness and money – resembling the most beautiful, old majestic, stark white palace you can imagine. It looks straight out of a fairy tale and completely different to the boring grey, black or brown concrete and glass structures around it. We didn’t go in.

We walked a lot in our exploration of Rio. Up and down Ipanema and Leblon beaches, to the Botanical gardens, and up and down the shopping and restaurant/bar strips. Despite the distances, it’s a relatively walkable city (in the section we stayed in, anyway). We also felt relatively safe. There seemed to be police everywhere – on almost every street corner – which helped. It might have been because of the protests in the other parts of town (and the predicted protests in our part of town that never eventuated). We never saw or experienced any trouble, though.

The Botanical Gardens are some of the best I’ve seen (and I’ve dragged Chris to a few!). There are loads of different exotic and tropical plants, lush green lawns, and a real sense of the mysterious and beautiful. I felt quite at peace walking around there (despite Chris chivvying me along), watching the sun break through the palms and trees, breaking up the mist. Quite magical. I made a point of exploring the extensive medicinal garden, recognising some of the plants that I have growing at home. Interestingly (to me, at least), they grow their Mother of all herbs outside – a huge specimen – while I keep mine inside in a pot in the window to keep it alive. I guess their climate is a touch warmer than ours is.

Rio has a plethora of friendly cats – most of whom I believe I met and snuggled with near the Botanical Gardens. One of which was a lovely little white cat with unusual proper brown patches, who jumped onto my lap and head butted me. It seemed to live with a bunch of other strays in a car park complex, in which the owners had built little houses and feed trays for them. Another cat, who I met in a newsagent's stall in the main street, was called Mr Growler. He was a very affectionate, roughly six-month-old kitten who bounded around the shop and was clearly well-loved by the men who ran it. The hostel also had a resident long-haired beauty, who lazed on the front counter or the poolside deckchairs with considerable cattitude.

About half way through our stay, we took a day tour around the main city sights – Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer and Escadaria Selaron, a staircase in Saint Theresa covered in tiles from all around the world.

It's extremely windy at the top of Sugarloaf Mountain, but the view is fantastic – you can see the different areas of Rio below, including the big lake and an airport in the tip of a jut of land. Every time a plane lands, it looks like they are going straight into the water, before they veer hard left at the last minute and touch down on the tarmac. Big black eagle-like birds with white tips on their wings soar in the thermals, happily dipping and swooping up and down the mountainside.

Birds and other animals and plants are immortalised in the exquisite (but rather kitsch) gemstone statues, sold in the souvenir shops there (and the airport and other touristy places in Rio). Parrot’s feathers are made from a collection of different coloured, intricately carved stones, with the bird perching on a lump of citrine. Other fauna, including butterflies and lizards, sit regally atop or inside amethyst caves, quartz or trees made from different crystals. While not exactly my taste, even if I’d wanted to take one home, they were a bit out of my budget – they cost thousands of dollars.

We visited the main Sugarloaf Mountain and the mountain on the way there via cable car, queuing with hoards of other tourists and locals to get up and down. We were actually lucky to go when we did, because they were closing the mountain later for a big party to watch football or something. The lower mountain was already set up with bars, marquees, seating and portaloos.

Similar to Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer statue offered birds’ eye views of Rio and is teeming with tourists. The statue sits atop a mountain in a national park, so we parked at the bottom and got the mini bus up. It’s very lush, green and jungle-y, with cheeky monkeys and parrots frolicking in the vines and trees. 

There was a beautiful, abandoned, old building where we parked. Its walls had collapsed or been overtaken with vines, and its stairways finished in mid air, like in movies. It was quite eerie. Our guide said it was once a hotel, but when the land it was built on became national park, there were too many rules and regulations for the owners to operate it. It's such a shame – its views and setting are stunning.

The Christ statue itself is also pretty impressive, especially when you think about how they built it. But like with the pyramids, it just wasn’t as big as I was expecting it to be. However, the statue does have a sense of being ‘all seeing’, which I guess is its point. We took lots of photos and fought our way through the crowds to take in the views, then decided it was too chilly and windy for us, so headed back down to wait for the others.

Sadly, the artist who had created Escadaria Selaron, Jorge Selaron, committed suicide five months before we visited it (in January). Part of his legacy is this intricately decorated staircase, which forms the canvas for a piece of art he started creating with odd tiles he scavenged, and he said would only end with his death. As his artwork on the staircase became famous, more and more tourists visited it, bringing with them, or later sending him, tiles from all around the world. Some tiles were even especially made for the stairs, with people’s names and personalised messages – such as celebrations of marriages and bands, or ‘in memory of’ – on them. We were amazed at the variety and number of tiles he'd laid – it was an interesting and beautiful piece of art.

The area of town in which the stair case is located, Santa Theresa, is also very interesting and beautiful. I regretted that we didn’t get a chance to explore it actually. It's full of beautiful, ornate old buildings set along small, European-like streets and cobblestone alleys. It's a bit posh and very arty and Bohemian, known for its galleries and café and restaurant culture.

It's also quite a contrast to the favelas (slums) that we saw driving around town. They appeared to be a mass of ramshackle, rundown houses on a hillside. Our guide told us that the favelas we saw were the roughest ones in Rio, and that one of them is one that movies are based on (although they are lucky enough to have electricity and running water, he said...).

On our last day in Rio, we took the train into the main part of Rio's city to visit museums. The trains are surprisingly efficient, frequent, easy-to-catch, clean and modern. It's a shame we didn’t make use of them earlier in our stay. The main city is as any large, modern city – bustling and busy, filled with people in suits. We made our way through the historical part of town to the historical museum, right near the law buildings. I found it hard to walk in a straight line because I spent most of the time looking up at all of the beautiful, old buildings, covered with ornate facades, statues and art. 

The historical museum is housed in what was Rio's original fort from the 1500s. It still features old cannons from that era, and gorgeous views of the harbour from a second-floor courtyard. The museum traces Brazil’s past – from stone-age man right through to the modern day, incorporating details about slavery and its abolition, the mining boom and the Spanish invasion. It even has an old (and apparently very famous) homeopathic apothecary store that the owner had donated in its entirety. It would take hours to go around the museum properly, and Chris’ patience for such things doesn’t last quite that long… so we did a whistle-stop tour instead.

The Republic museum was unfortunately closed so some people could film a movie or documentary about past president Getulio Vargas, so we walked around the museum gardens (lovely, lush and tropical) before heading back to Copacabana for a last walk up and down the beach, and indulging in some beach-side cocktails and coconut water from a coconut (not the best of ideas before what turned out to be an almost two-hour drive to the airport, due to traffic jams!).

After exploring (and/or shopping) each day, we relaxed each evening with a couple of whiskies in the hostel lounge or our posh hotel room, reading, writing, watching the riots on TV and snacking before going out to grab tea. It seemed like the riots went from fairly peaceful protests to full blown violence with tear gas, smoke bombs, truncheons, fires and shooting in the first hour of us watching them. I did feel for the police horses. The hostel staff and their partners and friends all sat around watching them with us, in total disbelief at what they were seeing. Luckily the riots were on the other side of Rio and in other Brazilian cities, far away from where we were.

We ate well and the food was quite nice. While the hostel breakfasts were simple – rolls, condiments, fruit, tea, coffee and juice – the hotel breakfasts were an endless supply of cooked and fresh sweet and savoury delights, including cake, fruit (cacti!) and vegetables, and a range of teas, coffees and juices – one of the best spreads I’ve seen in a hotel, all with stunning views of the beach.

We sampled tapas and cocktails and wine on the first night in a little bar near our hostel (delicious); pizza and salad near the Botanical gardens; a veritable feast in a lovely Lebanese restaurant opposite Copacabana beach; tasty kebabs/felafel takeaways; cheesy pub chips; various salads in local restaurants; more salads and desserts in salad bars; an ice cream, sorbet and ganache concoction appropriately called ‘Just married’; and many, many cocktails – mainly different flavoured caipirinhas (well, the cocktail part of it might have just been me).

We also ventured to a couple of bars – Shenannigans, so Chris could watch the basketball and we could listen to a semi-decent cover band and try to work out the pub’s convoluted way of paying for things (they tick off a list of what you consume during the night, then you queue up haphazardly for an eternity so you can pay before you leave), and another random bar where we managed to find a table so Chris could watch the soccer (most of the city shops had closed down because it was such a big game, so there wasn’t much else to do but to join in!).

As with most big cities, an almost-week in Rio was not long enough to take it all in – but we made a good dint in it. It would have been nice to spend longer, to see and do more. As it would in many of the places we visited (ok, maybe not La Paz). But sadly, as with all good things, our South American honeymoon adventure had come to an end and we had to make our way back home to reality (and our two, probably very grumpy, cats).

That’s not a waterfall... This is a waterfall!

17–19 June 2013

So, when I was planning this trip, Chris and I had, shall we say, ‘a discussion’ about whether or not to go to Iguassu to see the waterfalls. I wanted to go, based on its glowing reviews and it being one of the new Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Chris didn’t see the point in going so far out of our way to see some waterfalls, when he’d seen waterfalls before, and was much more focussed on getting to Copacabana Beach in Rio. 

But you see, these aren’t just any waterfalls. These are 275 waterfalls that stretch for 2.7km and range between 60 and 82m high, with numerous islands and inlets along the way. The Devil’s Throat, a U-shaped chasm and focal point of the falls, is 82m high, 150m wide and 700m long. Overall, Iguassu falls are taller than Niagra Falls and twice as wide. They are located in the protected Iguassu National Park, bordering Paraguay, Argentina and Brazil. From the Brazil side, you see them mostly from afar, giving you a wider perspective of them. From the Argentinian side, you can get up close and personal with them.

Some things are worth the battle. I managed to convince him to go with me. And let’s just say that he was glad he did. 

These waterfalls are the most breathtakingly beautiful and powerful natural phenomenon I’ve experienced. And you do experience them. Whether that's watching them from afar, walking up the wooden platforms to the fall's very edge and reaching your hand out to touch them, or getting in an open-top boat that goes right up to and under their spray, leaving you breathless and your heart racing and blood and adrenaline pumping.

It was humid and warm in Iguassu, usually overcast and rainy in the mornings and clearing up by lunch time, leaving us with warm sun and blue skies for the rest of the day. After breakfast on our first day there, we caught a public bus from right outside our hotel to the Brazilian side of the falls, then another bus inside the park that dropped us off at one of the main lookouts (opposite the very posh hotel we were staying at the next night). It was about a 2.7km walk from there to the Devil’s throat, with the falls and river on our right, the tropical jungle on our left. 

The falls were genuinely impressive. They are huge expanses of rushing water, carving its way down the hillsides, through boulders and the few trees remaining, and pounding the river below, throwing up huge arcs of white spray and glorious rainbows. The spray is blown all over the place, like rain, and there’s a permanent mist in the air. The force and energy of the water is unfathomable (to me anyway) and awesome (in the true sense of the word). The energy fills you when you stand close to the falls, giving you a huge rush. 

The river ranges from clear to white (where the waterfalls meet it) to murky brown (where its full of silt, pushed down by the falls, sadly disrupting the fish, animals and plants).

We meandered up the path, taking it all in and stopping at appropriate touristy spots for photos. We donned our ponchos and walked out onto the platforms overlooking the Devil’s throat. We didn’t go too far out, because it was quite wet and slippery, and the spray and wind from the falls were strong. Further up near the gift shop and restaurant was another look out, where we could see the river that feeds that part of the falls. The river is deceptively still and peaceful compared with the gush of water it becomes a few metres downstream.

The jungle is full of animals, birds and butterflies – another huge drawcard for the national park. Large birds, like eagles, circle the falls, while lots of other little, colourful birds flit among the trees beside the path. They have odd colours and patterns, like yellow eyebrows or a red spot on their back. 

Butterflies swarm around you and in the trees and bushes along the path. They land on your hands, arms, shoulders, head or bag, sunbaking to dry their wings in the sun. They have the most beautiful colours and patterns on their wings: from blacks and browns to bright yellows, reds, oranges, blues, purples and greens. Some are as big as my hand, while others as small as my thumbnail. They are so friendly and game, not bothered by humans at all. I don’t quite understand why they fly so close to the falls though, flitting in and out of the spray near the restaurant without a care, then landing on the rails or tourists to dry off.

Big snails with bright yellow cone shells creep along the rails and in the jungle, again, not seemingly too bothered by the tourists. I haven’t seen snails like them before, with such strange coloured and shaped shells. 

Quatis, little, mischievous racoon-like native creatures, harass tourists for food, tearing open and rummaging in their bags, and hanging off their legs. Quatis lure you into the urge to pat them (they’re so cute!), then can literally attack you. Signs outside the restaurant warn tourists not to touch them, or feed them, for risk of ending up with huge gashes (delightfully illustrated with photos of past incidents to further deter you). They’re also getting fat and changing colour from eating human food, which is another reason park rangers try to deter tourists from feeding these animals. If you kneel down, quatis flock around you, after a pat and food. They also snuggle up to and groom each other, and have such strong personalities, just like cats do. We didn’t pat them, of course, but other (less astute) tourists did.
We grabbed lunch and finished early at the falls, so we stopped by the bird park across the road on our way back to town.
The park is a lovely mix of different-sized mesh enclosures and jungle, all mostly blending into one another. The gardens include tall trees and vines that provide a canopy for the ferns, palms, bromeliads, and smaller trees and tropical flowers below. It seems like a fairly natural-like environment for the animals.
As well as an array of stunning and often surprisingly friendly tropical birds, like toucans, emu-like birds, bright red water birds, peacocks, turkey- or cassowary-like birds (which like to pick-pocket tourists for attention), macaws and all sorts of parrots, the park is home to other animals, including turtles, tortoises, crocodiles, snakes and monkeys. The monkeys have white on their very human-looking faces, spikey dreddy hair and look a bit ‘voodoo’ – quite disturbing actually.

I fell in love with the toucans, with their sleek, shiny, silky, soft black and brightly coloured feathers, and awkward big beaks. They remind me a little of cats, with such strong, independent, playful and fun personalities, and a purr-like call. A few of them let us pat them, which was very cool. Another one was sick of tourists patting him so flew over to one of the keepers, who he snuggled up to, before tugging on the keeper’s shirt and pants’ pocket, then eating the aerial off his radio for attention!

Macaws are also incredible birds. So large and commanding (and more than a little intimidating). Some are almost as tall as me. They were spread all across the park, but we went into an enclosure where about 50 of them were kept alongside other smaller parrots (one of which landed on my head and got caught in my hair!). In the enclosure, the macaws hang upside down and at all kinds of weird angles from the mesh walls, eyeing you off rather menacingly. Some swoop, so you have to duck to avoid them. They have the most fantastic, brightly coloured feathers too – vibrant reds, blues, greys and yellows. Their squawks and cries are deafening. I think they are understandably mad at being kept in the enclosure.

On our second day there, we went on a tour to the Argentinian side of the falls (quickly organising our visa online the night before!). We had breakfast, checked out of the hotel and were picked up early. I was surprised at how quickly and easily we crossed the border in our little minibus full of tourists, our driver holding our pile of passports and visas. I guess they border guards are used to it.

The tour was great – organising the border crossing, our entry to the park on the Argentinian side, and all our boating and tour tickets inside the park. They also picked us up promptly at the end of the day and dropped us back at our hotels.

We started with a 20-minute truck trip through the jungle, with a funny guide who spoke in English and Spanish, and laughed heartily at her own jokes. She told us about the different plants that we passed, including the endangered palms, harvested for palm hearts (hot tip: make sure your palm hearts are from farms, not native forests). It takes 15 years to grow a palm, and once its heart is harvested, it dies. The jungle also has a problem with orange and lemon trees. Apparently there used to be a nearby hotel with an ‘exotic’ garden. The animals ate the fruit and spread the seeds through the jungle, resulting in the plants popping up all over the place. The locals are now trying to get rid of them to protect the native plants and animals.

The truck dropped us at a boat, which took us down the river and to some of the falls. It was exhilarating and intense to say the least! Our belongings (including cameras and a change of clothes) were wrapped in waterproof bags under our seats. The driver took the boat so close into the spray that it felt like we were going right into the hard white walls of water, although he probably kept a good safe distance back. We were absolutely drenched with spray and waves of water, and bursting with adrenaline from the power and energy of the water above and around us. Each time we inched closer to the white wall of water, hearts pumping, tossed from side to side by the waves, we braced for the soaking that seemed to come from all sides. It was like having buckets of water thrown at us repeatedly, with a really, really loud whoosh sound all around.

When the boat docked, Chris and I got changed and dried off a little, then started walking the trails through the national park. Each trail takes you to a different part of the park, to different waterfalls. We aimed (and managed) to see them all – they aren’t too long or difficult to hike. As its name suggests, the upper trail takes you through the higher ground and over the top of several waterfalls, giving you a birds’ eye view down into their chasms. The lower trail takes you closer to the waterfalls themselves, allowing you to reach out and touch them.

There’s a train that takes you, ever so slowly, to the Argentinian side of the Devil’s throat. It drops you about 1km from the waterfall, and you follow a path through the jungle and across several rivers and streams. The rivers are glassy flat, deceptively still and calm, yet the reeds and bushes growing in the water sway, betraying a strong rip of sorts below the surface. 

You can hear the Devil’s throat and see its spray – great clouds of mist and foam in the sky – long before you can see the actual waterfalls. When you reach the waterfalls, there is an almost overwhelming rush of energy, power and awe (and more than a little fear). The rush of water spills so forcefully and heavily into the abyss that you can’t see the bottom. Or even half way up the cliff. You have no sense of how deep it is, only that it is far (and lethal). When the wind pushes the foam and mist into the sun’s rays, which intermittently break through the clouds, rainbows of varying sizes, length and depth reach down toward the water, floating above the falls or hovering in the abyss below. One rainbow we saw was almost a full circle. 

All around and below us, the water tumbled and flowed over the cliff face, into the abyss in an incredible show of energy. Then it sprayed back up again, leaving all of us tourists (and the professional photographers) very wet. We didn’t bother changing again, mainly because we didn’t have any more dry clothes.

Our tour guide dropped us back at our hotel, who called us a taxi to take us back to the national park, where we waited about 15 minutes for the hotel shuttle bus to take us into the hotel in the park. It was a very dark and stormy night, and we drove through the pelting rain and thunder, through the jungle, to the hotel. The pitch black night was broken only by the headlights and the occasional show of lightening. It felt a little like a horror movie, to be honest – and rather unnerving.

But our welcome at the hotel was warm and bright. The hotel itself is a big, old mansion in the middle of the park. Strangely painted pink and white, the building looks like a cross between a classic European mansion and a little girl’s dolls’ house, with beautifully manicured gardens and a huge pool. It’s part of the posh Orient Express chain (I didn’t know there was such a chain, but I’d be happy to stay in one of their other hotels too!). It and the staff were impeccable, and the entire time there we felt very special and well tended to.
The staff were extremely efficient, polite and friendly. And obviously very well trained. I think they must have been practising my name, because they were the first  (and only) ones on this trip (and in fairness, in native English-speaking countries too) to get it right first go. Hilariously (at least to me), the staff called Chris ‘Mr Pobjoy’, because I’d booked the room. I actually think that has a good ring to it, but he disagrees.

After our personal tour of the hotel, courtesy of the concierge, we were taken down the rabbit warren of long, wide halls to our room – apparently the second best room in the hotel, with stunning views of the waterfalls (we had been upgraded on my request). We were right next door to the presidential suite (the best room in the house, of course). The bellboy brought our bags up, and while Chris showered, a waiter delivered a bottle of some fancy pants champagne (which we only got ¾ of the way through, sadly). It did go nicely with the complimentary chocolates (to celebrate our honeymoon) and the standard chocolates on the pillow. We’d also been given complimentary Haviana thongs (we changed them at reception to get the right sizes) and a beautiful bunch of pure white roses.

The room was beautiful, with lace floor mats; cushions galore; several pretty lamps; a separate entrance hall with a day bed; a huge king-size bed; a little ornate wooden table and cushioned chairs; a decadent bathroom with fancy toiletries and a built-in seat in the shower; a dressing gown; slippers; a dressing room; and thick, heavy curtains and blinds. All the fabrics were plush and oozed wealth and elegance. 

In the morning, we woke to amazing, clear and unbroken views of one of the main sections of the waterfalls from our windows – they were straight across the hotel lawns. I sat for about 20 minutes taking it all in (and photographing it and bragging on Facebook). It was such a beautiful, energising, grounding view to wake to first thing in the morning, and so special to hear the falls while lying in bed (kind of an amplified version of listening to the rain on the roof).

We dressed up for dinner and eventually found our way back down to the dining room, where we indulged ourselves with cocktails, wine and lots of delicious (really, really expensive) food – hang the cost! In case you’re wondering, there were complimentary, ornate bread rolls with various butters and foamy dips, and we had salad with fruit and bruschetta with deep-fried mozzarella for entrée; and pasta for mains (mine was layered with goats’ cheese, vegetables, tomato sauce and cheese, and Chris had buffalo mozzarella ravioli). It was far more delicious and rich than it sounds. 

Feeling rather warm and fuzzy, I grabbed a nightcap Drambui from the bar to take up to my room, had another shower so I could wear my robe, and hopped into bed to watch TV, drink champagne and eat chocolate. Understandably, I nodded off quick smart when Chris put the basketball on. That or perhaps the rather indulgent, luxurious and beautiful night in that gorgeous hotel (and several weeks of travel) had tuckered me out. 

Despite our lovely room, it was too hot for either of us to sleep well. Chris turned down the temperature at some stage during the night, but it didn’t help. I woke about 6.15am, uncomfortable in the heat, then dozed for an hour or so more. Chris slept in til 9am, when I woke him to go get some breakfast.
The breakfast spread was most impressive and we stuffed ourselves again (although we didn’t sample the champagne on ice), enjoying the beautiful garden views and letting the waiters pamper us. Everyone treated us so nicely and respectfully for our entire stay there, despite the fact we weren’t dressed the part and clearly weren’t rich (like some of the guests, including one couple with their little boy and nanny).

We checked out and had time to kill before our flight that evening, so we explored the hotel grounds – going up the tower in to the lookout (the highest point in the park, apparently), visiting the cafes and shops (where I was given free charms in a jewellery shop), walking around the pristine pool and beautifully manicured gardens, and taking another stroll along the promenade to the Devil’s throat and back again, looking at the waterfalls and jungle flora and fauna.

With the overnight rain, the waterfalls and rivers had filled, making them even more impressive than the previous two days. They were absolutely gushing and their spray was thick and drenching, making it hard to see them properly. I can’t imagine the force and energy of these waterfalls, or what they’d be like in the wet season!

Having paid so much attention to the waterfalls over the past two days, I spent a bit more time taking in the jungle. It was full of birds, butterflies, snails and quatis, who played happily among the mosses, lichen, ferns and vines, looking for bugs to eat. The gentle lush, green, quiet jungle was such a contrast to the raw, white, rough roar of the waterfalls across the river.

The jungle in Brazil and Argentina has such a energising, peaceful quality. It strengthens, revives and brightens, but calms and lightens you. You can’t help but feel joy (and slightly humbled) when you’re surrounded by such powerful, pure and picturesque nature.

When we reached the airport later that afternoon, we manoeuvred through the painful, convoluted security and bag checks to board our plane to Rio. An electrical fault with our plane delayed our departure by an hour or so, but thankfully our driver in Rio had waited for us, and dropped us safely at our hostel for the next – and final – leg of our adventure.

Granted, the entire Iguassu hotel experience cost a small fortune (to us, anyway) but, you know what? It was our honeymoon and it is probably the only time we will do it, so why not? You've got to treate yourself and live a little. (Or a lot in this case...)